Time Is Relative

Long ago, deep in the mountains, there was once a woman whose heart was trapped in time. She did everything she could to find it again and again.

The train’s route was 6,000 miles long, traveling for eight days and making 19 stops. The train made two stops a day before reaching its final destination at the peak of the mountain and then going back down. Despite the 21 cars that comprised it—the locomotive, 5 viewing cars, 2 dining car, and 13 sleeper cars—the train was only operated by its conductor, Sira.

It was astounding, the spells she had woven into the steam engine, the cherry wood walls, and even the gold-accented furniture. It was a marvel; people came from far and wide to see along with the snowy vistas that filled every window frame. 

Passengers savored the sight of the kind conductor. Her smile came easily as she asked for tickets and answered questions. 

All except for one. 

The woman sat in the same place every trip, in the second car on the third row by the window seat. She wore a deep red dress, her suitcase filling the seat next to her. She was very beautiful, despite her cold eyes and closed-off expression. 

“Ticket, please,” Sira said politely. The woman already had it in her hand and thrust it towards the conductor impatiently. Sira forced herself not to tease the woman about being patient or think back to the time when she looked at the same woman and thought young lady, girl, baby, dau—

“Is there anything you need?” Sira asked after she punched the ticket and returned it.

“No,” the woman answered quickly, looking back out the window.

“Are you sure? The mountains get particularly cold this time of year. We can offer a blanket if you would like,” Sira insisted. 

“I’ll be off by then,” the woman said matter-of-factly, not sparing the conductor another glance. The words felt like a fresh burn, a tear from the sudden surprise and grief falling quickly out of her eye. Still, Sira kept her smile as she wiped it away. 

“Very well,” she answered. “Enjoy your trip.” 

There was no hesitation as she moved on, no ounce of grief in her demeanor as she continued to do her job. Even as the woman’s words sat on her bones and made every movement feel heavy, she didn’t falter. 

She was used to it.

Soon enough, she was back to the front of the train. She checked the gauges, lowering them with a simple wave of her hand to slow the train down. The view of the valley below was breathtaking, the snow pristine with buildings dotting the landscape. 

Sira tried to take comfort in the familiar view when the door opened up behind her.

A man in a black coat and haggard expression filled the doorway. 

“You need to let me off,” he demanded.

“I apologize, sir, but our next stop isn’t for another few hours. You cannot be here. I must ask you to take your seat,” Sira explained calmly. The man ran his fingers through his hair, making him look more frazzled than before.

“Look, I’ve been riding this train for three weeks thanks to your spell,” he snapped. Dread filled Sira’s chest as the man stepped inside the control room. 

“I’m not asking,” he continued. “Let. Me. Off.”

“I don’t remember seeing you,” the train conductor told him. Sira, he reminded himself. Her name meant “traveler.” A little on the nose for his taste, but it was fitting considering the time spell that covered the entire train, trapping everyone on it. How did she not get claustrophobic?

“Where’s your ticket…” She looked at him expectantly. 

“Milo,” he filled in. She flipped through the list of names. Milo raised his eyebrows when he noticed quite a few were crossed out.

“There’s no Milo here,” she said. “Is it a middle name?” He winced.

“I’m…not going to be on there.” She looked up at him confused. “I snuck on the train at the stop before last. I had a family emergency, and all the tickets were sold. I was only supposed to be on here for two days.” Sira stared at him before clenching her jaw and closing her ledger.

“That’s dangerous,” she said tersely as she placed the book on the control board. Milo scoffed.

“I’ll say,” he replied. “Last thing I expected was to be stuck in time.” 

“It’s not that simple,” Sira mumbled before straightening up. “Okay. We just need to find a pocket that will take you out of the spell. You should be able to get off at the time you were supposed to.”

“And if I can’t?”

“Every spell has pockets,” she said. “There is no ‘can’t.’ Relax, you’ll get off.” 

Milo shook his head but said nothing as Sira confidently walked out of the control room. He wondered if he should follow her, but his eyes went to the ledger. He walked over and opened it. He scanned the book, his hand tracing over one of the names. 

“Milo.” He looked over his shoulder to see Sira looking at him with narrowed eyes. 

“Close that before you break another part of the spell, and follow me,” she commanded. Milo did so without question and left the room. 

People don’t learn from their mistakes easily and Sira was no different. She had made many, which made her powerful and meticulous. Every spell she crafted was a piece of armor hiding one of her flaws. But even the best armor can have cracks. 

The last car was empty of all passengers, making it perfect to check. Sira looked high and low in every room, even peeking out the back door. Nothing but sunlight and howling wind were there. She sighed before closing the door. 

“I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to check the other cars,” she told Milo, who had been following her aimlessly. 

“What am I supposed to until then?” he asked. She scowled, remembering once again he snuck on. She picked an empty room randomly and slid the door open. 

“Enjoy,” she said. “I’ll come get you tomorrow and you can help me inspect.”

“You won’t kick me off then?” Milo asked. Sira bit the inside of her cheek to keep her face neutral. Truthfully, she wished she could kick him off without another thought. But she wasn’t heartless, despite what one passenger may think.

You’re thoughtless! The only time you love me is when I’m walking away from you. It must have been really disappointing when I came back.

“Sira…Sira, what wrong?” The train conductor snapped out of her thoughts and looked at Milo before remembering they were still in the empty train car, not a home she would never go back to. 

“I need dinner,” she told him. “You need rest.” 

She walked away before another word could be exchanged. She waited until she was near the front of the train before resting against a window. She looked up at the sky. Oranges, reds, and purples painted wide sweeps of it and Sira wish she could rewind mere moments instead of days.

Milo collapsed into one of the seats in the dining cart. Sira sat next to him far more gracefully.

“This will never end,” Milo declared. “We checked all the sleeper cars and nothing! I would be impressed by such a flawless spell if I didn’t have to live in it.”

“Unfortunately for you, I had a lot of practice,” Sira sighed. 

“What do you mean?” 

“My daughter was very imaginative,” Sira explained. “After her dad left, I made spells for her to enjoy the world as she saw it to distract her from the loss. She loved them.” Sira looked around the car. “You’ll get off eventually. Maybe this is no more than a side effect of the spell.”

“Must be a pretty elaborate time spell. To go on this long…” He blinked a couple times as he realized what was happening. He turned to her quickly. “You’ve been stealing time.”

“…only some,” Sira said. “Just from some passengers and just within the train. A few moments here and there.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

“Long enough.” 

“Why? What’s the point?” he asked. She shrugged.

“I need to say goodbye.”

“To whom?” 

“To…Iman,” she reveals. “My daughter, who grew up without me realizing it. She once told me that illusions were her mother. I just made them.”

“Why would she say that?”

“Iman says I’m obsessed with them, so much that I don’t know what’s real.” Sira was quiet for a moment before looking at him somberly. “Iman’s father was the love of my life. He fit in every part of me without trying and understood me in ways I could never express. Have you ever been in love like that, Milo?”

“Only with potential,” Milo confessed. She smiled sadly. 

“Good for you,” she told him. “Our life together was beautiful. All those years and all I remember is his winter coat, his suitcase, and the hat he wore when he left. And how he didn’t look back once…Iman is like her father. She’s most memorable in her goodbyes.”

“Have you tried convincing her to stay?” Milo asked tentatively. Sira shook her head.

“I can’t blame her for leaving me behind. I know she needs to.” Sira frowned. “I just need more time. I need the ending to be a little longer. That’s all I want.”

“Sira, this won’t change the end,” Milo told her gently. “There won’t be more time.” Sira grew weary at his words. She opened her mouth to speak but her eyes shifted to look over his shoulder.

“Where are we?” Milo looked out the window to a familiar village.

“We should be—”

“No.” Sira jumped up. 

“Wait.” Milo grabbed her hand to stop her. Sira looked at him with bewilderment. “Stay with me. Let’s keep talking—”

“Get off of me!” Sira ripped her hand out of his grip and took off.

Milo got up to follow her, stumbling as the train stopped. He regained his balance and hurried after Sira as she sprinted to the front of the train. He watched her rush through passengers before peering out the window of an empty seat. She tried to let it down, her nails scratching against the glass in a panic. 

He looked out the window, wondering what could make the normally, composed woman so frantic. His eyes immediately went to a young woman wearing a bright red dress, commanding the attention of the crowd around her as she walked towards the platform exit. Milo saw who she was in her stride, her cheekbones, the color of her eyes, and a composure remarkably similar to her mother’s.

“You made me miss her!” Milo jumped before facing a furious Sira. She stomped off towards the control room.

“I’m sorry,” Milo rushed to say. “Just restart the loop.”

“I can’t! Not for another five days. I—” Sira clenched her fists and crouched to the ground, covering her face. Milo retreated at the first sob, closing the door behind him. He sighed as practicality and guilt raged in his mind. How could I? he thought. 

Grief is a heavy thing, much heavier than any train and yet, it’s so easy to become used to its weight. Sira had been dragging grief so long she had forgotten about it until she watched her heart escape. No matter how much Milo tried to keep her company out of guilt, Sira felt like she was drowning.

Sira’s feet crunched through the snow towards the frozen lake, the crown jewel of the train’s journey. The lake was said to bring back what was lost, a miracle that kept Sira going when the world threatened to swallow her whole. The dying sun rays made the landscape glitter and it amazed Sira how much of the world could be beautiful and so hard to bear. 

Footsteps approached her and she wasn’t surprised to see Milo step in front of her. 

“How much time is left?” he asked. She looked at the sky. 

“Less than 20 minutes,” she guessed. 

 “If you don’t break this spell, I’ll be trapped,” he reminded her. She bit the inside of her cheek nervously.

“Just…one more time. I—”

“I have to go home,” he told her, his voice small. “If you want a chance to see Iman again, to move on, you have to let this go.”

Sira closed her eyes to hide the shame in her eyes. How did she get here? 

She heard Milo step closer, his warmth entering the cold she’s felt for longer than she could remember. He placed his forehead against hers, took her hand. She squeezed it tight, letting Milo take her burden just for a moment. Goodbyes were hallowing and while Milo couldn’t take that away, his understanding made it easier.

Still, Sira pulled her hand out of his. 

“I can’t,” she whispered.

“I know,” Milo told her as the wind picked up, blocking out everything and consuming them both.

“So, what happens next?” the kid asked. 

“With what?” Liam asked. 

“With Sira. Does she repeat the spell? Does the corrector stop her?” The kid continued.

“The corrector?” he asked, feigning ignorance. The kid rolled their eyes.

“The person who’s supposed to fix the spell. Milo is supposed to make sure she doesn’t do it again,” the kid explained obviously. “So, does he?” Liam contemplated his words before speaking.

“Yes,” he lied. “Milo helped her. She got to see her daughter again. She was happy. Therefore, the lesson is…” Liam looked expectantly at the child. They rolled their eyes.

“Let things go,” they said with a pout. “I’ll still miss my brother.” Liam laughed. 

“Good. That means you’ll keep the memories safe.” He reminded them, ruffling their hair. “Now, off you go. I have a train to catch.” The kid jumped off the bench and waved before running over to their parents nearby. Liam shook his head with a small smile before checking his watch.

Liam Milo Brooks had five minutes to board his train. It was something he used every time he boarded, 23 times at this point. 

Still, he pocketed his watch, making 23 into 24, as he boarded. With a wave of his hand, a masquerade morphed his face and a forget-me-not spell fell over the passengers as well as the conductor that took his breath away every time, he saw her.

He sat in the second car and watched Sira talk to his daughter, who wore a bright red dress. The conversation was painful, but Sira moved on professionally. He waited until she returned to the control room before getting up. Here we go, he thought. He walked to the control room and opened the door.

Long ago, deep in the mountains, there was once a man whose heart was trapped in time. He did everything he could to find it again and again.