A Train Ride

      By Dave Karp


        This is a character I'm still developing and decided to write little scene for him tonight.  I hope to expand his story and thoughts and dish out a good world for him sometime in the future!- Dave

          The night was as quiet as a lonely road, with nothing but the echoes of far-away police sirens and whispering wind blowing through the sky. It was a peaceful night, from what I remember. I remember feeling some sort of presence as I stood on the platform. It was the presence of something sudden and final. It glowed in the streetlights and lay still on the train tracks, surrounding me with an uncertain peacefulness. It was in everything as I looked at around me; in every rooftops, every traffic signal, every billboard, every snap of a leaf, and it continued to stay with me even after the headlights of the train came roaring past me and the train car that appeared in front of me let me in with a ding.

I took a seat and watched the people around me. One taller guy was kissing his lover like it was the last day love was alive. A businessman read the headlines of the paper, spilling news both good and bad to his eyes with black, definite ink. He didn’t smile or grin; he just let the world be. A bigger homeless man slept with his mouth open, drool traveling over his chapped lower lip and hung over the seat he was lying in like a icicle off a gutter.

And there I was, coming home from work again after another night working tables and earning my tips to help pay the rent. It wasn’t ideal, no, but it’s was my job. And that was good enough for me to keep plugging through the headaches and sleepless nights in my little bed that laid cold and unwrinkled just for me to mess it up later.

I watched the city fly by me like it was in the wind itself. Light after light, brick after brick, building after building, home after home, street after street, person after person. All I was doing was watching out the window like I was going on safari through the built up beauty of an urban jungle. It kept me at peace, surprisingly. Even through the hustle and bustle of the night life that was alive in some of the areas we passed…I still felt a quiet peace. I felt like I was drifting through clouds.

Then the train went underground and the walls around me became whiter and the windows became mirrors, and there sitting next to me behind the window was a drifter; a loner; a wanderer; both satisfied and lost. He looked just like me.

Occasionally, a fluorescent light passed me by like it was in a hurry. I just watched them out the window, shining on me every few seconds like spotlights. The light warmed me up though. It felt right. It took me through station to station in the darkness of the underground and kept me sane from the darkness I was really in.

That’s when I realized- maybe that’s what God is. I saw God in the subway lights. He was guiding me through some sort of darkness and kept my life going. He was shining again and again, pushing everyone on the train through. Yes, I saw God in the fluorescent lights. And they took me all the way home as the night died behind me.

Is this faith? Is my God a fluorescent light? Do I go through this night after night like a broken record? Am I anywhere? What am I? Is this the dream I had about my city life?

And those are the thoughts that were with me as I laid my head on my old white pillow, shut my eyes, and said farewell to another conscious day. 

From My Dream Journal #1

by Dave Karp

           I was sitting alone in my living room on a green couch that seemed to be coming apart towards the ends. The lighting, which consisted of light sockets scattered around the room housing bulbs, was very dim, yet menacing. It hit me that there was nothing else in the room but this couch, a rug on the spot of floor I was on, and, next to me, a large fold out table, gray and menacing with the look of it. I could feel the cold of the metal as I sat next to it, looking down at it as if I was looking down at my own grave.

            As I looked up, I could feel eyes staring at me in the shadows of this confined amount of seemingly floating space. And out of the shadows…they came. Two men. Big. Looming. Grim.

            They sat down in chairs across the table from me and started talking to me. At first they seemed nice, talking to me about my day and how I had been feeling at the moment, but then they looked at me with harsh unsettling eyes. They told me to lie down on the table and that I would be fine. And for some reason, I obliged to their wishes. I stood up from the couch I was sitting on, crawled up on the table, lied on my back, and then just stared into space. Of course, a few seconds later, the two men’s heads came into my field of vision.

            They stared at me, gave me heartless smiles and told me that I would be fine and I would barely feel a thing. Then, though I can’t really tell you exactly what it was they had, they pulled out tools that looked almost like little drills. Again, they assured me that I would be alright, and then one of them held me down as I tried to struggle, but I was too weak to free myself. The other man then grabbed my skin and pinched it. And then, like that, it was all done in one motion…

            He took the drill, put a sharp piece into the end, and then slammed it down on the skin he was grabbing and pierced me through it. A tear came from my eye, but I was no longer struggling and decided to try to take the pain. I could see the blood squirt a little in the corner of my left eye, the incision being in my left arm. I could feel it go through me, and they continued to pierce my body in a different place every few seconds.  I could feel the pain rush over me, into my breath and through my bloodstream, to every nerve ending possible in my body. My body was solely a channel for pain, but I refused to utter a word. I would not scream.

            All I could hear is the sound of the drill, the sound of laughter from the two men inflicting me with the feeling of physical and emotional hopelessness, and the sound of haunting silence. It still lingered in the air around me, as everywhere I looked above me, I saw nothing. Absolutely nothing. Still, they continued to drill on and on.

            After about fifteen minutes, it finally ended. I was left lying on the cold metallic table, with every ounce of energy drained out of me. I was alive on the outside (at least, the half that wasn’t covered in holes and blood) and dead on the inside. I could not move a muscle. I didn’t really care.

            I heard one final bout of laughter before the two men flipped the table over. I fell with a thud to the hard wooden ground, but as I fell, I realized that I was alone in the dark room once more. No men. No table. No couch. Just my naked body and the snow falling from the empty sky. I just stared off into the distance until I woke up. 

Spunky (Part 1)

By David Marcus Karp

“I don't believe in accidents. There are only encounters in history. There are no accidents.”

-Pablo Picasso

I knew the first time I ever laid my eyes on Spunky that she was the perfect girl for me.

That day is still as clear to me as every yesterday is. Let me paint the picture for you.

I was walking down one of the plain blue and white corridors of the Metropolitan Art Gallery, lit by bright florescent lighting. Windows were scattered here and there, allowing me glimpses of the busy city outside. The old, dark brown wooden floor creaked with every step I took. All seemed calm and normal around me. It was just me and my best friend, Jimmy, who was, at the time, interning there at the Gallery. It was a gig he got when we both got out of art school two seemingly long years ago.

            I had just got out of a meeting with Gil Clayton, a potential sponsor of my work. He was one of the heads of the gallery and, with that, Jimmy’s boss. During the meeting, Clayton seemed really intrigued with the pieces I showed him, along with the things Jimmy had said about me to even get an interview. At the end of the meeting, I was invited to a gala that was taking place that night for some other new artist, and he insisted I should come so we could “discuss a few possibilities”. After a long, nerve wreaking meeting, these were positive words to hear and it made me feel like I was getting a chance to go somewhere with my art.

So, the meeting ended on a good note. I told him I’d try my hardest to make it to the gala and then, a minute later, I was on my way back home to relax, eat lunch and return to my latest painting venture.

            We were about to turn the corner to a staircase that would bring us to the street exit, when I saw her.

            Her tight, denim pants matched her beautiful, dark red hair in color, with a black and white striped belt to hold them to her petite body. She was short, irresistibly cute, and had a smile that would make even the coldest person light up. Her eyes also had a sort of smile to them, and when you looked into them, they made you glow and hoisted you up into the clouds. She had a long, black overcoat on, covering a white shirt which housed a peace symbol on the front of it, with the word “love” written in black below.

            I felt my eyes widen as I caught sight of her, and it made me wonder if she noticed my sudden, shock-filled glance, as she looked back at me and it made my heart feel like it had frozen in time. I felt a bit foolish, but sometimes when you’re stuck in that kind of shock that penetrates the heart and the mind in unison, you lose control of everything for a minute without realizing it until the moment is far from passed.

            Anyway, I was stuck looking at her for a second or two before getting control back of my thoughts. When I did, I quickly turned and went down the staircase, a bit red from embarrassment, to the street exit, catching up the little distance to Jimmy. I could hear her talking to her friend as they walked behind us. Her voice was high, but not squeaky. It had a bounce.

            We walked out the door and onto the street. We were greeted by a beautiful day, with the sun beating down from a cloudless blue sky and there, surrounding us, was the pleasant, cool autumn wind, hinting that winter was not very far away.

            She walked parallel to Jimmy and I for a minute. Her voice seemed at ease as she talked to her friend, a slightly taller blonde girl, about something she seemed excited about. I didn’t catch what it was, but it made her voice glow a bit more, whatever it was. She seemed to be in a happy mood. I waited until she walked a little bit past us, and then I turned to Jimmy.

            “Why can’t I meet someone like that?” I said.

            “Huh?”

            “Why can’t I meet someone like her?”

            “Like who?”

            I softly gestured to her. “Like her!”

            “Who is she?”

            “I wish I knew, that’s what I’m saying!”

            “You don’t know who she is?”

            “No, I just noticed her when we were walking out of the gallery.”

            Jimmy gave out a bit of a cackle.

            “I can tell,” I said, “She just seems like the kind of girl I would fall for, you know? I mean, she’s cute, sounds like a nice person, likes black, seems happy, and seems…spunky. She might be…I don’t know…like… the girl of my dreams. I can always tell these things.”

            To tell the truth, I could never really tell those kinds of things, and who knew what she was really like if you got to know her. Hell, I DIDN’T know her. But, still, she seemed to have this kind of positive vibe to her, and it was certainly uplifting.

            “Go right now, Seth. Catch up to her and say something!” Jimmy suggested, giving me a little push and then laughing.

            “Funny.” I said. It would have been a different story if we were stuck in an elevator together or in the same waiting room together. Maybe, then, it would seem more logical to me, and I would get the balls to talk to her. But no. Not now.  She was a random person on the street who I just found beautiful and interesting from afar. Running up to her was probably not the greatest idea in the world.

            Jimmy teased me for the rest of the walk home, and as we made our way down the street, the beautiful girl was turning into a distant sight, walking off into the sunlight that was reflected on city windows.

            “I really like that word… spunky.” I said to Jimmy.

            “Yeah, it’s a fun word."

            “Spunky.” I repeated.

            That is the moment I dubbed her the name Spunky. It fit and Jimmy found the infatuation amusing to say the least. I had no idea what her real name was, and was never sure if I’d ever find out but, nevertheless, she seemed spunky. I liked spunky. I deemed her the name Spunky.

            Then we turned the corner, and she was out of my sight and into my memory. That was it; like that she was gone, and life kept on going. We walked home and made some lunch.

(SEE YOU NEXT TIME FOR PART 2!)