I may have returned to New York City, but once the whistle blew I never looked back. Not even once.
Somewhere I still have it, that crumpled ticket with the faded black ink, passage booked to another world. My prayers and dreams gambled on big wheels–dirty, dusty, weary from the rails. I boarded an escape missile from the past and an escort to the future, armed only with what was on my back and in my heart.
Promised healers and saviors, I found travelers. Fools–genuine and fraudulent. Kings–noble and criminal. Some pure, others cursed to serve the devil–and the congregation in between.
On the day that was the last, forever there was darkness and all the sunlight past.