Dead Violets

TW: Suicide

This is the story of a broken man. A soul ripped; heart-torn man.  

He was always intrigued by trains. How they moved. How they tiptoed through the railroads. No one could love them more than he did. Every dream was filled with trains speeding by.  

 He would beg his parents to go on the train every chance he got, and he would always pick the window seat. On bright days the trees would run past as he tried to count each one. When it rained, he watched to see each raindrop fall to the bottom of his window. They looked like tears to him. 

He would only watch cartoons that had trains in them and only be interested in a conversation if they were about trains. Everyone knew he was fascinated by them. Some would even say weirdly fascinated. 

 “He’s so obsessed” they would say, but he wouldn’t mind.  

“He’s such a baby” they would say, but he would just laugh.  

“When will you stop playing with those toys?” they would ask, but he would reply with a bright smile and say “Never!”  

The love of trains grew as he became older, and he drove his parents crazy with it. Every birthday, he would get a toy train. By the age of 12, he didn’t have enough room to store any of them. He didn’t have many friends growing up, but his trains comforted him.  

He took the time to learn each and every part of the train. Each little thing he would know. 

“Oh, that’s the smokebox!” he would say, pointing to the top part of the train. 

People walking by would give him weird glances, but he would pretend not to notice. 

He grew up and became a locomotive engineer which meant he could drive trains. With his smarts, he could have done anything else, but his heart led him to the train station.  

It was the first day at work. All the buttons on the control panel made his eyes light up and his heart race. Excitement electrified his body.  

His first stop was to Bilderpoint. A small town near the great Michigan lake. The town was known for its amazing burgers. He loved them!  

The sky was filled with nothing but a layer of light blue jam spread across. He took a deep breath and sat down. His smile was bigger than his face. He had been waiting for this moment forever.  

The trip was going smoothly. He loved everything about it. The sound the train made to the beautiful view. Eyes ahead the whole time he could see a woman who was walking near the railroad. She looked as if she was waiting for something.   

When she saw the train approaching, she looked him in the eyes and stepped onto the tracks. He could see the pain in her eyes. The terror on her face. Suicide.  

He pressed the breaks as hard as he could, but it was no use. The wheels of the train kept rolling. The trees kept running past.  

He screamed for her to move, but she wouldn't budge. He yelled at the top of his lungs. His eyes started to burn. Her brown hair flew as the wind drifted past. Her tears were shining as the sun beamed down.  

His foot still pushed against the break sealed his eyes shut. There was a scream, then a loud bump, and when he opened his eyes the woman was no longer there. That was the moment where he turned into a killer.  

The only thing on his mind was the woman's face. He was a killer. He murdered her.  

The thing he had loved his whole life helped him kill a woman with frightened eyes.  

They said it was suicide, but he will never be able to call it that. He tells himself every day that it was murder.  

Years later he dug a little deep into the paperwork and found out her name was Violet Ring. She was an only child with perfect grades. She was only a couple years older than he was when she died. He just wanted to know who he killed.  

He never drove a train again and he tried to forget it altogether. Her eyes haunted him his whole life. Her last scream echoed through his mind. 

Many years later he married a beautiful woman and had a baby girl. There was no question about it, they named her Violet. Violet Ring Nathy. He knew it was the right thing to do.  

Growing up, she didn’t have a clue what trains were. She never had a toy train to play with. Nobody in that house talked about it. They never took the train always the bus. She even had a few toy buses.  

 “T is for Train” Her teacher would say. 

“What's that?” She would ask confused. 

Her teacher would just stare at her with amazement. 

Years later she passed away. She was just 23 years old. She had died in a terrible accident. A bus slammed into her car.  

She never found out about his past.  

He could only imagine her eyes. The terror. In his mind, he matched her eyes to the woman he had killed years ago. It was karma he would tell himself just to numb the pain.  

Time and time again the memories would strike his mind like a clock striking midnight. He grew violets in his front yard. They would perfectly bloom in the summer, but in the winter, they would crumble up and die. 

Both Violets had died. Both their eyes the color of the flower. Both their eyes filled with terror as they took their last breaths.  

It's been 62 years since all of that has happened and he still sees their eyes in his dreams. He’s 89 years old now and still dies a little every time he thinks of everything. Every nightmare is filled up with their last moments. Their last look.

I am that man.