(Originally published at http://www.journeymouse.net/ on 28th August 2007)
It's only a short walk - fifteen minutes - from my flat to the station, so I thought I'd walk fast, you know? I should have known better. Do you know how hard it is to walk fast through a town centre? Do you have any idea of the distractions?
The worst thing has got to be the elephants. Big, small, African, Indian, maybe even the odd woolly mammoth. All pink. Everybody who wants a drink has one. They follow people around, trunks wrapped around appendages like they're holding on to the leader of their herd. Everyone else just walks through them because they're imaginary. But me? I can see them even when I'm sober. It doesn't half hurt when they step on me. Walking into them is almost as painful. I could strangle Disney or whichever employee of his it was that made them popular enough to appear. At least theirs were cute and danced like something out of Fantasia.
Ok, I've changed my mind. I'll stick with the slow, plodding ones that wouldn't dream of dancing.
Anyway, I moved out of the way of this great African bull elephant that was clinging to a haggard looking business man and stepped into some charity worker. I really wasn't sure whether he was real or imaginary for a while but he was quite aggressive. Every time I tried to move away and go around, he blocked me. It wasn't until I saw the collecting tin that I finally realised he was real. It was such a relief to know that passers-by wouldn't think I was mad, that I hadn't been waltzing around the pavement on my own, that I gave him some money. Imaginary beings don't need money, you see, so an imaginary charity worker wouldn't have a collecting tin. I managed to escape and carried on down the street.
Outside the shopping arcade was a man with a penny whistle and a dancing imp. No-one else saw the imp, but they all managed to walk around it, leaving the space in front of the tramp empty. I saw it, though. I saw it juggling its curses in its bony little hands as it hopped from foot to foot. I swerved quite a way to avoid it. Imp curses are minor things really, just a toe-stubbing or a small trip, but I didn't have time for it, you see? But the tramp must have seen me looking at it and given it the wink because one of those curses came flying right at me. It sent me stumbling into a nice young man who picked me up. As I smiled and said "thank you", he gave me a glacial look.
"Bit early, isn't it?"
He was gone, lost in the crowd, before I could ask him what he meant.
Thankfully, there was nothing else but real people between me and the train station. I bought my ticket from the machine - and thanked it nicely because there's no point being rude, just because it's only a machine - and made my way to my platform. Just in time to see my train leave. Well, not quite. I was still on the bridge between platforms when it started to move. On the overhead screen, the next one, which should have been in half an hour, was delayed by an hour. I sighed and rang my supervisor.
"Tom? Yeah, it's me. I'm at the train station. No. No. I'm going to be late. Train problems."
I was putting the mobile back in my hand bag when I felt a tug on the shoulder strap. It was a little pink elephant. It was a sweet young thing, really. It was the same height as me and still with its baby fuzzy top. I wrapped its trunk through my arm and took it to the nearest pub. The poor little thing was thirsty and I had nothing else to do until the next train came, after all.