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chocobanal · 8 years

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Suicide Express

Writer’s note: I have decided to publish my stories in the internet so that I could receive some feedback about my writing. Here is the first story I will publish for everyone to see. When I stayed in Japan, I heard the news in church that a teenage girl committed suicide on the train station. As a person who often had suicidal thoughts, I was inspired to write a fictional story about a seventeen year old who committed suicide on the train. I hope you appreciate the story and give some feedback after.

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Koemi had lots of time in her hands. Seventeen years old. Indeed, everybody would agree that she had a long way to go. Seventeen years old. Heck, she's just about to enter her last year in high school, take an entrance exam to a good university, meet new friends, get drunk, smoke weed, drive without license, have a boyfriend, sleep in some frat man's apartment, lose her virginity, shift to another course, have sleepless nights, cut classes to write a report for her other classes, graduate college, get a job not related to her course, receive a low salary, break her expectations, decides to build a family, get married, have a honeymoon at Bali, get pregnant, give birth, wake up three o'clock in the morning to breastfeed her infant, take a video of her first child walking, send her kids to school, get a divorce, marry again, have a fight with her teenage daughter who would want to attend a house party, have grandchildren, visit her friends' funerals, get hospitalized, write her last will and testament and finally, see the face of God and exhale her final breath.

She had a long way to go.

But Koemi was impatient. Of course, what would we expect? This child was born in the twenty first century, an age where one click of the mouse could bring you to different places, where one word can give you an infinity of information, where one “hey” can start a romantic relationship, where one press of a button can record a thousand moments, where basically the world could complete a whole revolution in a day. To wait for yesterday was to wait for a year.

She had a lot of time in her hands but she did not want to waste her time waiting.

Koemi Nobu. 心笑延. Koemi meaning “smiling” and Nobu meaning “extension”. Whenever she would write her name, she would smile and shake her head. Koemi Nobu. She learned once from her sensei that words were arbitrary. She could not agree more. The name of something has nothing to do with its essence. A house is not called a house because of its “houseness”. The first speakers of English unanimously agreed that indeed such object was to be called “house”. In the same way, Koemi's parents agreed to name her Koemi not because of her being “Koemi”. They just did, hoping that she would be faithful to her given name. But if she were to be named because of her essence, she would have been called “Tsukare”. Tired.

And she was tired writing her name.

But she needed to have a name or else she would not exist. That's what names are for right? To recognize our existence? Names are the simplest ways to describe ourselves. That is why we introduce ourselves with our names first. Then we venture on to explanation.

“Watashi wa Nobu Koemi desu. Yoroshiku onegaishimasu”, she would usually introduce herself. She'd follow it with a little smile. Then people would think that she was being faithful to her name. But in fact, she was smiling because she knew she was lying.

Words are arbitrary.

But she was faithful to her last name though. Nobu. Every time she would go to the train station, she would miss the train and would have to wait a few minutes for the next one. She was used to missing rides. It became her habit. And she liked it. It was a metaphor of her being. Everybody was on time. Everybody knew their way through the train. Everybody would ride the same train but would drop off in different destinations. Basically, everybody knew what they were doing.

But Koemi didn't. She was always late, always lost, always undecided.

She would be rushing to the station. She would look at the map and be overwhelmed with the colored lines and the numbers. She would be holding her ticket tight. She would look around and see everybody rushing towards the gates. She would put the ticket inside and grab it again. She would look up to check the platforms. She would take the stairs. She would hear the short music from the speakers. A few random notes from a nursery rhyme. She would run faster. Dowa ga shimarimasu, she'd hear. And as she reaches the platform, the train door closes and leaves in a haste. So she would have to wait for the next ride.

When will be the next ride? She would always ask herself.

And while waiting, she would observe the people in the platform. The men were wearing their usual long sleeves and neckties, khaki pants and brown shoes, while the women wore their black cardigans, beige colored dresses, stockings and heels. Some of the men were wearing shorts and their usual t-shirts, but the women seemed to always dress well. Like it was unusual to see them in shirts and jeans. Usually, they were in skirts or slacks. Yet one thing common, whether man or woman, was that their feet were hidden. Either they would be wearing socks or closed sandals. But you'd hardly see a toenail. One time, when she noticed this, it roused her curiosity. What's in the feet? Why are they always hidden?

She tapped her feet to the ground then she kept on doing it with a random beat. Then she closed her eyes and pressed her feet on the pavement. She suddenly felt the gravity of the earth pulling her down. But how far could she be pulled down? She was already on the ground! Unless, the pavement breaks and she'd be dragged to an abyss, that's another story. She opened her eyes and looked at the feet of everyone again.

They were all touching the ground but nobody was keeping eye on their feet. Step, step, step. Like the feet could never ever be detached from the ground. One would raise its foot but it would always end up touching the ground. And she wondered, “How come we are so sure in every step? How come nobody ever feared that there is that big possibility that we could fall down to the next step?”

She smirked. It was a habit of expectation.

And when she thought about it more, yeah, in fact, Japan is a world of predictability. You wake up in the morning, you go out in the streets and you'll see the same banana from yesterday—still a hundred fifty yen. You see the stoplights turn yellow, you would know the cars will slow down and stop at red and you are given forty seconds to cross to the other side of the road. You leave your wallet on the phone booth, the next day it is still there, or if not, it probably is in the police box. You wait for a ride, you'd know that it would arrive exactly at 4:45. The consequences are limited, almost fixed and predictable. You do this, this will happen. You don't do this, this won't happen. One plus one is two. Black and white. Men's toilet, women's toilet.

Indeed, it is foolish to worry over a predictable step.

She would see her friends carrying their planners. Classes from seven to six, homework after school from seven thirty to nine o clock, project making on the following hour, sleep for five hours, lunch with the club at eleven thirty to one o'clock, tennis practice from four o'clock to six o'clock, homework after school from seven thirty to nine o'clock, another class project on the following hour, sleep for five hours and the list goes on as if their whole life seemed to be written on it. Ask what time they are free, they would fish out their planners, scheme through it and give an answer of,

“I have class from twelve fifteen to one thirty, and then I would go home at around two o'clock so maybe we can meet at three o clock but we have to end at four forty five because I have to meet a friend by six o'clock in Tokyo”.

Everything is predictable. Everything is according to plan.

Koemi would open hers and put a cross mark on each day. “Mata nobita” Postponed again, she would murmur. So there was one point in her life when she sighed and said, “Until when will I be postponing my plans? Will this actually go on forever?”

Then she began to think, “Well, it is not necessary to keep on postponing. I mean, we always have that option to cancel everything.” Then she watched the people rushing towards the platform, “Why are we so crazy in wanting to live longer when in fact, every day is always the same thing?” and she looked at the clouds from afar and thought, Do we actually long for pain?

And then she delved deeper into her thoughts. Perhaps, deep inside, humans are actually masochists finding pleasure in the pains of life. She shook her head. Of course not, she thought. There are also lots of good things about life that we long for. But then she realized that just like the train ride, there is an end. We may all ride the same train but in the end, we have to go down somewhere. And so every ride is a pain. We may enter a ride of happiness, but that happiness itself is a pain, for in the end, we have to go down and face a whole new sadness of reality.

She watched the people rushing towards the platform. Yet why do we still yearn to ride the train? She asked herself yet she could not answer the question.

Kiiroi sen no uchigawa ni sagatte, omachi kudasai. Chugchugchugchugchug chugchug chugchug chug chug chug. The train has arrived. Everybody was walking briskly towards the train door. She stood up but then stopped herself. The short tune began to ring from the speakers. Dowa ga shimarimasu. Then she watched the door close in front of her. The train left.

Then she realized, the world wouldn't wait.

The world will leave you.

She stepped on the yellow line, her feet shaking and her heart beating fast like a drum. Then she heard a loud voice, “Abunai” and she looked to her side and saw the train man moving his hands to signal her to move away from the yellow line. She looked down in embarrassment and took a few steps back.

She looked around. With Japan's population of a hundred and twenty seven million, who was she anyway? She was too small, so small she might as well be invisible. Watching the people come and go, she imagined an empty train station. What if everybody has already ridden the train and she was the only one left in the platform? Will the world actually wait for her? She closed her eyes and imagined the train arriving and its door opening in front of her and there was just this one seat in the aisle. “Still not riding?” the train would ask her.

Her breath echoed in the station. The place was too silent. Even the sound of her breathing, the simple gulp to her throat, the blink of her eye, the popping of her ears, the beat of her heart, the shuffling of her hair as the gentle swift of the wind pass by, the sound of her finger joints folding surrounded, the thumping of her head, the flow of blood in her veins—all these sounds surrounded the station and so she felt that she was in this monster's mouth crushing, munching, dissolving and swallowing her one by one. “Stop!” The voice shouted inside her head. But that voice itself echoed the whole station. Then the melody of the train music started to ring.

“But if I ride, where would you take me?” She would ask the imaginary train in her head.

“It's up to you, dear.”

Then she paused for a while and said, “But what if I get off the wrong place?”

“You can always ride the train again,”

“Until I find the right place?”

The train did not answer.

“I can choose not to ride, right?”

“But you can't be waiting forever, dear.”

There was silence.

Dowa ga shimarimasu.

When will be the next ride?

The train door closes. And as the far sound of the wheels striking through the rails echoed in the station, Koemi's eyes opened. Mamonaku ni ban sen ni Chiba yuki ga mairimasu. The voice from the speakers said.

How come we are so sure in every step?

She took a step further. Her shoes already stepping on inches of the yellow line. Chugchugchugchugchug…her heart was beating fast like the train. It was getting louder and louder. Kiiroi sen no uchigawa ni sagatte, omachi kudasai.

Everything was according to plan. No more crossing the dates. No more postponing deadlines.

Abunai! Abunai! A deep voice said from afar. Chug chug chugchugchugchugchugchugchuchuchuchuchuggggg...the beating of her heart was too loud, every other sound around her faded. She could only feel the shaking of the ground. She closed her eyes. Tears flowed down her cheeks.

But if I ride, where will you take me?

Chugchugchugchugchugchugchugchugchugchugggggg….

Then as if for a moment, she was scooped up by a grand gust of wind and was locked in an impenetrable vacuum that even time, the most powerful element of the world, cannot go through. And as she was alone in that vacuum, she only had one thing to do and that was to decide once and for all. Shall I ride the train? She shook her head. Nope, she said. I can't keep on postponing. No more crossing dates. No more extending deadlines, right? Nobu Koemi. I can't forever live with the name.

“Tobikomi”, she muttered.

As she hits the ground, she could only feel the shaking of the rails under her feet. As if the ground was trying to shake her feet off the rails. Then she heard the echoes of the shrieking voices around her. The screech of the wheels of the train as it breaks. The shrieks of the people were getting louder. She opened her eyes and saw the light of the train swallowing her sight. Then in that moment, cold air swept in front of her and froze every millisecond of the moment. She thought about the smiles of her mom whenever she arrives home from school, the laugh of her dad when she says something funny, the touch of her friends on her shoulders when they greet her, the bright morning sun light that wakes her up in the morning, the first time she saw a waterfall, the moment her baby cousin stopped crying, her first A+ in her report card, the time she won in a volleyball match; she thought about graduating from high school, passing the entrance exam, meeting new friends in her college, marrying someone she loved, having wonderful children, witnessing her son's wedding, taking care of her grandchildren—every possibility of her future, she thought. Why do we still yearn to ride the train? She smiled. She finally had the answer to the question.

Nobu Koemi had a long way to go

But she chose to take the suicide express.

#short story #suicide #japan #in the mood to write #train #writing #sad

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