Bizarre Grins

 Penelope was six years old. There were two things about this sentence she would loudly complain about, if anyone told her about it. One, was that she hated being called Penelope, and insisted that everyone call her Penny. The second was that she considered it to be a horrendous insult to be called a six-year old, and would tell anyone that would listen that she was ‘almost seven!’. She neglected to tell those people that her birthday was in seven months.

At the moment, Penny was swinging her legs and pouting. She kicked the seat in front of her in boredom, and stopped when she heard cursing from up ahead. The girl had long since finished her lunch and apple juice, and the tablet was out of charge.

“Stop fidgeting so much,” Her mother scolded, but she lacked heat in her words. Penny had always been an energetic girl, and her parents were well aware that it would be difficult to get her to sit still for an entire two hours in the train ride. “Why don’t you draw something in your colouring book?”

“I don’t want to!” The little girl cried. Her voice grew louder as other passengers looked over, and her parents winced at the sound. They tried to placate her and apologize to the other people, but nothing seemed to work.

Penny suddenly grew quiet. It had nothing to do with her parents’ best efforts. Instead, her eyes were inexplicably drawn to the oddly-dressed man sitting on the other side of the train. He wore the robes of a fantasy magician, yet his costume drew no stares. His eyes were twinkling with laughter, and his odd smile drew her in. The corners of his lips had curved upwards in a way that was only seen in cartoons.

She giggled slightly, and became silent. Her eyes drifted to the beautiful scenery outside the train window. Trees rushed towards her, paused by the window, and ran far away behind the train. The green grassy fields seemed never-ending, and the occasional people were so far away they seemed like ants.

A train conductor walked past her seat near the back of the compartment, towards the door which led to the driver’s room. He paused there and knocked sharply. “Is everything ready?” He murmured, silently enough that nobody but the person inside could hear him.

“Yes, yes,” The driver replied, sounding rather harried. He didn’t open the door, yet his voice could be heard clearly. “Are the bombs all set? I’m not going to be responsible if you guys forgot to prepare them!”

The young conductor snorted in disbelief, rolling his eyes. “What do you think we are, stupid? Everything is ready to blow the moment we reach the Midcity Bridge.”

There was a slight pause, a moment of silence, before a sigh resounded. “This is for our country.” The driver whispered, seeming to be comforting himself.

The man on the other side of the door said nothing in response, heart already steeled. He walked away, and looked around to make sure nobody had heard what was said.

Only one person could have eavesdropped on the conversation. His eyes fell on Penny, who was looking at the scenic view in awe. His pace faltered from his confident speed, drawing the little girl’s gaze.

She smiled widely at him. His eyes seemed to be moving wildly, filled with panic. The conductor’s fingers were twitching wildly, and his neck was strained. Suddenly, he relaxed and returned her smile. It was an odd smile. The corners of his lips had curved upwards in a way that was only seen in cartoons.

He continued walking away, and Penny began chattering with her parents. The train zoomed past wheat fields, lakes, and the Midcity Bridge, before entering the capital city. The child enjoyed all the views along the way.

When the train stopped at the final station, she got off onto the platform, hand-in-hand with her parents. The oddly-dressed man from earlier was no longer in the compartment. Perhaps he had gotten off at a previous station.

The train’s staff bid farewell to all the passengers, smiles plastered on their faces. When Penny looked back at them, their grins seemed to subtly change, looking rather odd. The corners of their lips had curved upwards in a way that was only seen in cartoons. She smiled back at them.

That night, as Penny slept in the hotel room, a teddy bear clutched in her arms, her parents were furiously arguing outside the room in hushed whispers.

“Let’s just fly back by plane! I’m not risking taking the train,” Her mother declared, mouth set. She glared at her husband, but he didn’t falter immediately.

He was barely holding on with his feeble arguments, and had almost given in. “It was just a coincidence, and nothing even happened to us!” He complained, gesturing wildly at the room. “It’ll be fine on the way back. I’ve travelled by train several times prior to this, and I’m still here!”

His wife’s eyes welled up with tears. Her firm-set features crumpled, on the verge of crying. “It’s just,” She gasped, trying to hold back her sobs as her husband faltered and gave up, moving closer to comfort her. “We could have died! We were in that compartment.” Penny’s mother gripped the newspaper tighter in her fist, crumpling it.

“Hush,” The father whispered, holding her in his arms. “Fine, we’ll take the plane. Whatever makes you feel better, darling.”

The newspaper slipped from her firm grip, and slid to the carpeted floor in a rustle of papers. The wife sobbed harder and clutched onto his shirt, letting out her fears and worries as he softly murmured reassuring words.

As the pale sheets covered the floor, a solid black headline made itself visible. ‘50 Train Staff Members Killed on the Evening Train to the Capital! All Victims Wearing Bizarre Grins!’