"The Leader" by Paul McCarthy & Scott Forrest-Allen

(READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.)


     "Mr. Baxter! Come quick!"

     "Yes, Tommy? Did you find Matt?"

     "No! He's still missing! I can't find him anywhere!"

     "Okay. Calm down. Breathe. We'll find him."

     "He was just here a few minutes ago. He said he was going outside the cabin to get more wood. 

He was gone such a long time I went to search for him. Remember?"

     "Yes, I remember."

     "I took my flashlight--"

     "As all good scouts do."

     "--and went outside. I circled the cabin. Twice. It's dark. DARK out there! I thought he was 

playing one of his usual jokes, but now I don't know." Tommy places his flashlight in his jeans

pocket.

     "I heard you call his name. He didn't -- he hasn't answered yet. I'm sure he's just playing one of

his usual tricks on us."

     "You always say a good Scout would never play a harmful trick on his fellow Scouts, Mr. Baxter."

     "Yes, I did, but not everyone listens to me like you."

     "What's the big deal about Matt?" Spike interrupts. "He's just playing a joke on us like you said! 

That loser will show up soon. Why the panic?"

     "Because we're out here in the middle of nowhere!" Tommy shouts. "He's been gone for over an 

hour!"

     "He's been going for ten minutes, you Nancy!"

     "That's enough, Spike!"

     "Sorry, Mr. Baxter."

     "Now, there's no reason to panic. Matt is out there somewhere, and we will find him, as good 

Scouts do!"

     "What if he fell down and hurt himself or got bit by a snake and lying dying somewhere, or--"

     "Will ya stop it, you drama queen?"

     "Spike! That's enough! We will discuss your punishment later!"

     "Sorry, Mr. Baxter."

     "Tommy, you stay here in the cabin with Jack. Spike, you and Kris take flashlights and search 

for Matt. Good Scouts always stick together and help each other in need. We will find him!"

     "Mr. Baxter?"

     "Yes, Spike."

     "If good Scouts always stick together, why did Matt go for wood alone?"

     "We will discuss that later! In the meantime, I will circle this cabin and keep a close eye on 

all of you," Mr. Baxter promises.

     "Yes, sir," the Scouts reply in rehearsed unison.

     And with that, Spike and Kris go out as bravely as they can into the black to search for Matt. Jack

stays inside and does his best to comfort Tommy. Mr. Baxter steps outside, and locks the only door to 

the cabin. Jack and Tommy see Mr. Baxter's flashlight reflecting and bouncing off the four 

windows on all sides of the cabin.

     Mr. Baxter checks his watch. It is almost 11PM.

     A lonely wind brushes Mr. Baxter's face. 

     Inside the cabin, the only source of light had mysteriously distinguished not long ago along with 

the dying embers inside the potbelly stove. Less than a handful of candles try in vain to illuminate the 

interior to no comfort to Tommy. Or the other Scouts. Or their leader. Though none will admit to that.

Except, of course, maybe Tommy.

     Outside the cabin, the wind can barely make itself audible in the density of the woods. Leaves 

and branches rustle against the starless sky. What animals that are lurking behind the trees are 

remaining still until the proper moment.

     Even Mr. Baxter could not have predicted how loud silence could be. In the still of the night,

the quiet is anything but soothing. In the middle of nowhere, the lack of sound threatens.

In the not too far distance, the two boys' flashlights dance in the darkness. The two Scouts are 

careful not to holler the name of the missing boy so as not to arouse any critters.

     "Everything will be alright, Tommy," is the cliche that exits Jack's mouth. "Matt will show

up. I promise."

     A high-pitched scream pierces the air.

     Jack and Tommy shudder together on the floor.

   "MR. BAXTER!" It's Kris's voice. "MR. BAXTER!"

     The leader arrives to find one flashlight on the ground, shedding its beam along the blades of

grass and dirt patches. He also find Spike's companion trying desperately to explain what just

happened. He places his hands on the boy's shoulders and attempts to interpret the words 

escaping the youth's mouth.

     Amidst puffs and pants, the leader hears the words "man," "cloak," "grabbed," and "Spike!"

     Mr. Baxter's mouth goes dry.

     GET KRIS INSIDE!

     GET KRIS INSIDE NOW!

     GET THE BOYS TO SAFETY!

     Another high-pitched scream pierces the air.

     The leader grabs the boy's arm, and they race in the darkness toward the sound. Toward the cabin

where the sound is coming from.

     Mr. Baxter and Kris stumble into the cabin where Jack had been.

     As the leader rushes to Tommy's side, Kris slams and locks the door and joins his

companions, dropping his flashlight on the bare, wooden floor.

     The leader must decode again, after he turns off his flashlight and places it carefully on the floor

next to him. 

     Amidst sobs and breaths of terror, Tommy manages "man," "cloak," "grabbed," and "Jack!"

   

     911! THIS IS A FULL-BLOWN 911 EMERGENCY! THIS IS IT! Why didn't I take action before?

Because before -- oh, I wish it was "before" again -- I thought -- I KNEW I would find these boys, and

we'd all return to safety! But now -- things are different. Where's my phone? Where's my cell phone??

When I was these boys' age, we didn't have cell phones. When I was there age. I want to be their

age again.

     Mr. Baxter pulls his phone out of his shirt pocket.

     He flips it open.

     He turns it on.

     He waits for a signal.

     He waits.

     And waits.

     The two remaining boys wait.

     Nothing.

     No signal.

     Mr. Baxter throws the phone against the wall, and shattered phone pieces fly and land on the 

floor.

     Mr. Baxter apologized for his behavior. The boys understand.

     The two boys shriek in response to something behind their leader's head.

     He turns around and feels every hair on his body stand on edge.

     The face.

     There is a face in the window!

   

     The light from on the remaining candles cast shows on the expressionless face.

     "Who are you?" Mr. Baxter commands. "What do you want?"

     The face turns to its side.

     The left eye darts at them.

     The mouth alters into a puckering position.

     "What doo I want??" the face taunts.

     Mr. Baxter feels his stomach drop away from his body, which turns cold. 

     "You already gave mee what I want! But I want moore!!"

  

     "GO AWAY!" demands the leader. "GO AWAY!"

     The face turns and faces the leader. "Okay!"

     The mouth puckers and blows against the window as if to blow out a candle.

     Which is exactly had happens.

     The candles extinguish, leaving the remaining troop members in the black, save for Kris's

flashlight, which he has dropped after his final entry into the cabin.

     "Are you guys okay?"

     "No, no we're not," whimpers Tommy.

     "We'll get through this," the leader promises.

     "Enough, guys! The joke has gone too far! Come back! Come back now!" Jack demands.

     A confused leader looks ahead to find Matt, Kris, and Spike entering sheepishly from the back

door of the cabin.

     "So," begins Mr. Baxter, "this was all some elaborate prank to play on your leader!"

  

     The five Scouts hang their heads in shame. Even they know there isn't any use in apologizing.

     "We will all go to bed and return home in the morning. Your punishments shall be severe!"

     The Scouts remain silent.

     "Just one question. Which one of you was at the window? I didn't recognize the face."

     The Scouts look around at each other, giving Mr. Baxter more chills than he has already

experienced so far.

     "We don't know," answered Tommy.

    Mr. Baxter and his Scouts pack it up for the evening and never speak of that night again.

Copyright 2010 Scott C. Forrest-Allen & Paul McCarthy

     

NUTS by Tom Topor at The Burlington Park Playhouse

NUTS, the1979 courtroom drama by Tom Topor, dares to blatantly address issues of mental illness, sexual abuse, misogyny, and exploitation of the court system. One might be familiar with the 1987 film of the same name headlined by Barbara Steisand, but one might not be familiar with the emotional impact the current production at Burlington Park Playhouse will create.

The story focuses on Claudia Draper, a woman who exchanges money and gifts with gentleman callers. When she is accused of manslaughter, she is brought before a judge to see if she is mentally competent to stand trial.

Wow! Just wow!

Tom Astore as Office Harry Haggerty is never out of character with reactions both subtle and believable. The same can be said for Cathy Merlo as the Recorder. She is always in the moment but never steals focus. Paul A. D’Onofrio is perfect as Judge Murdoch who perfectly balances his professional objectivity and personal frustrations with the proper amount of sensitivity and impatience.

Dr. Herbert Rosenthal, played by Lou Fuoco, portrays his character’s infuriating one-way opinions with impeccable credibility and consistency. The tug-of-war between Prosecutor Franklin MacMillan (H. Webb Tilney) and Defense Attorney (Lee Pallotta) is a courtroom battle to be witnessed. Both actors know how to their get points across with credibility rarely seen on stage.

Tim Vincent and Christine Connor as Arthur and Rose Kirk bring amazing dramatic texture to their portrayals of the defendant’s stepfather and mother. Both actors launch their individual testimonies and slowly build to emotional climaxes on devastating levels.

But this production of NUTS belongs to Kerry Rosen Moe as Claudia Faith Draper. A local favorite in the musical theatre circle, her stellar performance flexes her theatrical muscles with an explosive performance that is to be experienced. Hers is a complex character that Kerry brings to incredible life with controlled intensity and solid understanding. The first two acts allow her to react silently to her doctor’s and parents’ statements. When it is her turn to take the stand, people sit up and take notice.

Robert Hallisey’s direction is has an acute attention to detail and subtlety. This is evident by his impressive set design (along with Jason Toppan) complete with realistic EXIT sign and an actual working clock.

This production and Kerry’s performance are emotionally wrenching and thought provoking. This rarely performed piece receive due justice.

burlingtonplayers.com

ALLEGIANCE @ SPEAKEASY STAGE COMPANY

The production of Allegiance - A New Musical by SpeakEasy Stage Company is nothing shy of Magnificent! 

This difficult material that shall not be overlooked anymore transforms amazingly into a musical that will make you angry, think, laugh, and cry. 

The performances are stunning, and the direction by Paul Daigneault is meticulous. 

THIS is what theater is about!

TOP TEN OF 2017!

10. WORKING
(The Umbrella Community Arts Center)

Updated and more relevant than ever, Director James Tallach shows us the grit and the grime of everyday people doing the very best they can. There is comfort in knowing that we are not alone. The thru-line of Construction Man documenting everyone's stories is an impressive way to anchor the production. A stellar cast coupled with rock-solid music direction by Gina Naggar showcases the ups and downs of the 9 to 5 life and how everyone is still working for the weekend.  

9. FUN HOME

(Broadway Across Boston)

Reworked from in-the-round presentation to the proscenium only makes this intimate story that much poignant and important. In a world where
Traditional Family is both changing and being challenged, this Best Musical Tony Winner shows us that things are not always what they appear to be but that Love still remains.

8. SOMETHING ROTTEN!
(Broadway Across Boston)
There is nothing rotten about this clever, witty, sophisticated, hilarious take on everything Shakespeare and Musical Theatre! Headlined by Bob McClure, Adam Pascal, and Josh Grisetti, this production is overflowing with non-stop inside humor and word play. "A Musical" is just about the most exuberant number in Broadway history. This is a welcoming reminder of why we do and see live theatre.

7. THE CURIOUS INCIDENT OF THE DOG IN THE NIGHT-TIME
(Broadway Across Boston)This Tony Winner for Best Play is everything it promises to be and more. Based on Mark Haddon's novel we go into the mind of Christopher Boone and understand his world of overstimulation. Adam Langdon is superb in the title role. The complex choreography and lighting design that is Act Two are to be marveled and appreciated.

6. DESIRE - PLAYS BASED ON SHORT STORIES OF TENNESSEE WILLIAMS

(Zeitgeist Stage Company)

The only thing that is more brilliant than a collection of short plays inspired by the brilliant Tennessee Williams is how this company coordinates several different works by several different playwrights and assembled them into one cohesive piece. David J. Miller directs a superbly talented cast taking the audience on journeys we did not anticipate. Relying less on elaborate set pieces and more on each other only strengthens the quality of this piece.

5. THE CURIOUS INCIDENT OF THE DOG IN THE NIGHT-TIME

(Speakeasy Stage Company)

Streamlined for a more intimate space? I think not. The three-quarter thrust approach with stage covered in mathematical equations and non-stop lights and Eliott Purcell in the title role make this a powerful portrayal of stimulation and the world in which we live. Everything adds up to an evening that is both entertaining and education. 

4. EVITA 

(North Shore Music Theatre)

Briana Carlson-Goodman's multi-layered portrayal of Eva Perone and Constatine Maroulis's salty, gritty Che is only the beginning of this jaw-dropping experience. NSMT favorite Nick Kenkel directs and choreographs every number and moment as a Tango - representing the perpetual tug-of-war of both politics and emotions.   

3. next to normal

(Arts After Hours)

Kayla Cantrall's linear set design that is Diana's mind is a bold, brave choice that works perfectly. If one is sitting on the sides, we experience the tennis match representing her emotional struggles. If we sit on the edge, we experience the tunnel vision with which she struggles. Katie Picket in the title role explores and demonstrates her character's anguish that is as heartbreaking as it is frustrating. Corey Jackson's by-her-side sufferer is an honest, broken husband. Director Adrienne Boris still discovers new levels in this story that dares to go there.

2. 42nd STREET

(North Shore Music Theatre)

This musical is a personal favorite of mine, and this production is every reason why. From the very first beat, the audience is taken on a ride of non-stop high-octane energy that just gets better as the performance progresses. Director/Choreographer Kelli Barclay gets it. Yes, this is a tale of how dreams can come true, but it is also about escapism in a bleak world. Ultimately, it is about the chorus -- the unsung heroes of Musical Theatre that are doing what they truly love for as long as they can. It's great when you love what you do and do what you love, so embrace it!

1. COME FROM AWAY

(Broadway, Gerald Schoenfeld Theatre)

This is a portrayal of actual events of how residents in a little town in Newfoundland embraced scared, lonely strangers when the attacks of 9/11 altered everything. With bold honesty and refreshing humor, it is a welcome reminder that there is still good in the world, and there is still plenty of time to be good. This brilliant ensemble portrays several real-life people and how just a few days changed their lives permanently. The score by Irene Sankoff and David Hein is inspiring and moving. 

Thank you, Jason, for a birthday I will remember and treasure!

"The Conductor," by Paul McCarthy & Scott C. Forrest-Allen

(READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.)

           “Gimme a ticket for an aeroplane,” the car radio sings.

            “Ain’t got time to take a fast train,” I join in, solemnly.

            “Lonely days are gone…I’m a-goin’ home…My Baby, just a-wrote me a letter,” the radio continues on its own as I drive into the parking lot and pay my five dollars. Damn! Wasn’t it only yesterday when it was just two dollars to park in this dump? Oh, yeah. It was yesterday.

            Yesterday.

            What a beautiful day.

            I wish it were yesterday.

            As I park my heap in this dirty, pothole-ridden money trap, my mind returns to the letter I received yesterday.

            We have your little girl.

            Come and get your little girl.

            No police.

            No authorities.

            Or no little girl.

            I have the address they gave me but not the ten thousand dollars they demanded. I don’t have ten bucks to give these bastards. Forget the ten thousand.

            How did this happen to me?

            Why did this happen to me?

            I make my way through the slimy turnstile and onto one of the ugly cars on this deteriorating train.

            It seems like yesterday the fare was a dollar instead of two.

            Oh yeah. It was yesterday.

            What the hell am I sitting in? Nice to see the price increases are put to good use.

            It is a sunny Saturday morning, yet I am full of gloom and misery.

            I check my watch. It’s 10AM. It tell myself – no – I convince myself that this nightmare will be over soon.

            I forget everything about my life and anything that has ever happened before today as I prepare and wait to meet with them. There are probably other passengers around me, but I don’t notice. And I don’t give a damn about any of them. I hate them anyway. I hate them all. I hate them because they are on this stupid train, and they are probably on their way to a ball game or to go shopping or to walk about town while I am on this train waiting to meet some bastards who have my little girl.

            I hear the sounds of the bell signaling the doors will close soon. I look at the open doors and cement that image into my mind before I close my eyes. I hear the doors close but I don’t see them. It’s a trick I taught myself in an attempt not to feel trapped. I don’t fly in planes anymore. At least I feel somewhat in control on the ground in something that will hopefully not be a long ride. My claustrophobia kicked into high gear after my wife and I got trapped in –

            Okay, Robert, stop thinking now. Stop thinking. Calm down. Shut op, for God’s sake, Robert! Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Another trick that works. Sometimes. Feeling a little better. But not much. Something is better than nothing.

            I should’ve called the police.

            I should’ve called the authorities.

            But, I didn’t.

            And now it’s too late.

            A few stops later.  I feel drowsy. I feel my head start to bob. My eyes become heavy, and my head feels heavier.

            That’s when she approaches me.

            My little girl approaches me. Is this really possible?

            “Tina? Is that you, Sweetheart?”

            “Hi Daddy, I have something for you.”

            My daughter hands me a folded piece of paper. It’s a letter. But, something is wrong. She appears younger than she actually is. Tina is thirteen. But she looks five or six.

            “Read my letter, Daddy.”

            I carefully unfold the paper that reveals words etched in pencil. The lettering doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t look like a thirteen-year old girl wrote this letter. It looks like a five or six-year old wrote it.

            I read.

            I miss you, Mommy and Daddy. I love you, Mommy and Daddy. Tina.

            I have all I can to keep from breaking down, especially at the word “Mommy.” I miss her so much. I’m on a train surrounded by strangers, and I don’t want to break down in front of them, and who cares, because I will never run into them ever again.

            “You look so sad, Daddy. Don’t be sad. I’m okay. I’m right here.”

            I reach out to touch Tina and feel my entire upper torso jerk back up into an upright position.

            DAMN IT! I was dreaming. Are you kidding me? I am sad. I am cold. My face is tight. I feel a lump in my throat. I can’t swallow. Robert, don’t cry. Don’t cry on a train filled with strangers.

            I look around me.

            Where the hell is everybody?

            I look around and realize that I am alone on the train.

            And it’s dark.

            The emergency lights are on, casting eerie shadows throughout the car.

            It’s supposed to be a sunny morning. Why the hell is it so dark? Why are the lights off? Why are we going so slow? We must be pulling into the next station. I don’t recognize anything outside the windows. That’s because I can’t see anything outside the windows.

            We’re in a tunnel. 

            No, we’re not, I try to convince myself. We’re outside. I just can’t make out the shapes. We are not stuck in a tunnel.

            We’re in a tunnel.

            Breathe in.

            Breathe out.

            Breathe in.

            Breathe out.

            As the train continues to slow down, it gets even darker outside the car.

            And darker inside.

            And colder.

            My stomach drops.

            And I am having a hard time breathing.

            “Attention, passenger,” the voice begins over the speaker. Why did the voice say “passenger” and not passengers”?

            Now the train is not moving at all.

            It has stopped.

            It’s so quiet.

            Silence hangs in the air as if suspended by a noose.

            I feel the silence envelope me as the last of the emergency lights fade out completely.

            “…this train is being taken out of service. We are sorry for any inconvenience.”

            Out of service?! What the hell is going on?!

            I have to meet those bastards who have my Tina!!

            I have to save my little girl!!

            I can’t tell the difference between my eyes being open and closed.

            If I could see it, I would reach for the emergency call box.

            “Hello?” I yell out.

            No response.

            “Hello? What’s going on?”
            I can’t stay calm.

            After a long, long while, I hear breathing coming from the speaker. Someone is there. Someone with answers. I hear and feel breathing in front of me. I stop breathing. Robert. Get it together. It’s just your imagination.

            Someone is going to tell me what the hell’s going. Someone is going help me.

            Help me. Please help me.

            Help me. Please help me.

            It’s so cold.

            And so dark.

            The voice crackles from the speaker, “I am so sorry, sir, for the inconvenience, but this train is coming out of service, and we will be delayed for some time.” Calm. The voice is too calm.

            “Where the hell is everyone?” I finally shout. “Why am I the only here? Why didn’t someone wake me when the train was coming out of service?”

            “I am terribly sorry, sir,” the voices teases. “I somehow missed you. We should be out of here in no time. Just relax.”

            Relax?! There is no sincerity in this voice. Boy, is headquarters gonna hear it from me. He doesn’t care. He didn’t wake me on purpose!

            He knows I’m here, but he did not wake me up!

            Am I sure this is a “he”?

            WHAT THE HELL?!

            “I demand to know what’s going on!!”

            No response.

            “HELLO!”

            Breathing returns from the speaker.

            “HELLO!!”

            Breathing from the speaker.

            “DAMN IT!”

            “Now, sir, is that any way to talk? What would Tina think?”

            My whole body turns to ice. All sense of reason stops.

            I can’t move. I can’t think.

            “Oh, yes,” the voice continues, “I know all about Tina!”

            “Who are you? How do know Tina? What kind of sick joke is this? I demand to speak to the conductor of this train!!”

            “Oh, sir, didn’t I tell you? I am the conductor of this train!”

            “DAMN!”

            “Now, sir, what have I told you about language? You watch your mouth, and maybe – just maybe, mind you – you will see your little girl again!”

            “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? WHO IS THIS? HOW DO YOU KNOW TINA? WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?”

            “Oh, sir, you haven’t figured that out yet?” The voice slows down. “WE are the ones YOU are supposed to meet!”

            Before I have a chance to let that sink in, I feel someone grab me by my shoulders and force me to stand up. I want to scream, but I can’t. I want to breathe, but I can’t. My attacker is now behind me, and I feel an arm around my neck. My legs tremble, and my body is ice. My mouth is dry, and my head is blank.

            My attacker’s other arm reaches around my face and produces something right in front of eyes.

            Even in the darkness, I shut my eyes.

            As I do, my eyelashes feel it.

            It’s sharp.

            It’s cold.

            I feel the icy cold blade rest gently – too gently – against my nose.

            It’s a knife.

            I feel the knife with its sharp edge directly in front of my eyes!

            I want to open my eyes.

            But can’t.

            I want to blink.

            But won’t.

            The blade teases the bridge of my nose.

            I start to wonder how it will feel when it happens. I start to wonder how it will feel when the blade punctures and slices through my eyes. I can picture it. I can see it. I can feel it. I can taste it.

            I sense light in front of me.

            I want to open my eyes.

            But can’t.

            “Go ahead,” the attacker hisses. “Open your eyes, Robert. Don’t you want to see your little girl?”

            I can’t believe this.

            I slowly begin to open my eyes, and the sharp blade tickles my eyelashes.

            I make out the blade in front of my eyes. Even with the double vision and blurriness I make it out. I somehow also make out the sight of Tina sitting directly in front of me. She is staring up at me. I am too terrified to move or say anything to her.

            “Go ahead,” I am instructed, “reach out and hug your little girl. Reach out and hug Tina!”

            If I were any other kind of person, I’d fight this bastard, get the knife away from me, grab Tina, and get the hell off this train.

            But I am not that person.

            I am frozen.

            I want to scream.

            I want to cry.

            I want to get Tina.

            But can’t.

            I am paralyzed with fear.

            I am numb with horror.

            “You’ve been a bad boy, Robert! Tina will be punished! YOU will be punished!’

            Breathe, Robert!

            Move, Robert!

            Help me!

            Someone, please help me!

            Help me!

            Someone, please help me!

            “Robert, my dear, YOU now make the decision of who dies – YOU – or TINA!!’

            I scream! Damn it! I scream!   

            The knife is released from my face.

            The arm is released from my neck.

            I am free. I think. I am free to move and rescue Tina. And me.

            The lights go out again!

            I fall to the floor, and I attempt to make my way back up in the pitch-blackness.

            Did the knife cut my nose? I think it did. Is it my imagination, or is that blood oozing from my nose? No time for that now.

            I can’t see a damn thing in this train.

            I collapse again.

            I’m tired.

            I’m weak.

            Where’s my attacker?

            What’s worse than seeing someone attack you?

            Not knowing where they are two seconds later.

            Get a hold of yourself. Breathe in. Breathe out.

            “Daddy?”

            What? Is that Tina?

            I hear Tina’s voice from the speaker.

            “Tina? Is that you, Sweetheart? Daddy’s here! I’m here to get you!” I need water. I need Tina. I need Tina to be okay.

            Be strong. Be strong for your daughter.

            I hold back tears as I hear running to my left. Someone is running towards me. Or away from me. I can’t tell. I hear a door slam somewhere.

            Did someone leave me or join me?

            I sit on the floor and cradle my head in my hands. I have to convince myself that both us of will be out of here soon.

            In the darkness I wait for my eyes to adjust and try to look at my watch. I don’t really know why I want to know what time it is. I guess I just want to know how long I’ve been in this Hell.

            A large thud.

            It’s the train. It’s starting up again. Please tell me this son-of-a-bitch will pull into some station somewhere with Tina and that everything will be over soon.

            I hear the voice hiss over the speaker.

            “I apologize for any inconvenience, lady and gentleman, but this train is out of service. I apologize for any inconvenience, lady and gentleman, but this train is OUT OF CONTROL!”        

            The train moves. But it’s moving too fast. I slide across the floor. I slide across the floor and hit the opposite wall. Or is it a door into the next car?

            The train is moving too fast for me to describe. I feel the train leave the tracks. It’s going to careen out of control even more. I feel every bump and every thud as we speed through this tunnel. Or are we outside yet? I’m too scared to open my eyes.

            HELP US!

            SOMEONE PLEASE HELP US!

            HELP US!

            SOMEONE PLEASE HELP US!

            The train speeds down the tracks, out of control as promised, and I cling against the wall. Or door. I want to die. No, I don’t. I don’t want to die. But I sure as hell don’t want to live like this.

            I hear the train screeching, and my voice screeches in unison. How long is this tunnel? We have to stop! We have to stop somewhere! We have to stop sometime! And someone has to know we’re here!!

*     *     *     

            I wake up. I’m lying on the floor staring at the ceiling. The lights are on. No, they’re not. The train is outside and strong sunlight beams through. My blurry eyes see someone in front of me.

            “Sir! Sir! Are you alright?

            Are they kidding me with this?

            “I am the head of public transportation. The paramedics are on their way to make sure you and your little girl are alright.”

            My little girl?

            That’s when I realize Tina is cradled in my arms.

            Asleep.

            She’s asleep but okay.

            She’s asleep and okay in my arms.

            I want to cry.

            I want to cry from relief but don’t have the strength to do it.

            I’ll cry.

            I’ll cry later.

            The speaker crackles again.

            “Give me a ticket for an aeroplane,” the voice hisses. Even this man who identified himself as the head of public transportation looks concerned.

           Sweat trickles down my spine, my breathing becomes labored...again.  What the hell just happened?!

            “Ain’t got time to take a fast train,” the voice continues. “Lonely days are gone. I’m a-going home. My baby, just a-wrote me a letter…..”

“The Letter,” Copyright 1967, written by Wayne Carson.

"The Conductor," Copyright 2010, written by Scott C. Forrest-Allen & Paul McCarthy