CHARLIE'S STORY

Abraham Lim

I climbed out of bed that morning with much difficulty. As I rolled myself off the mattress onto the floor, I took a peek at the old grandfather clock on the far wall. Eleven o'clock!! *@#* I was going to miss my train!

It was a beautiful summer morning in Vancouver. The year was 1897. I was supposed to get up at 9:30 that morning to catch a train to Oshawa for my father's 70th birthday celebration. My sister had sent me a telegraph saying that this celebration was going to be big. I was about to find out,... or was I? -Now that I've slept in, I might even miss the last train to Oshawa. I haven't even finished packing yet!

The heck with it! I grabbed my coat and stuffed my hat over my uncombed mass of hair. I ran down the cobbled streets, looking back every once in a while to see if I could hail a coach. I stopped only once to get a cup of coffee. Finally, I arrived at the train station. I looked up at the clock 11:45am. I might still make it. The last train for Oshawa leaves at noon.

I hurried over to the ticket booth only to find a ghastly long line up. I could have bought my ticket a day earlier but the weather was less than pleasing so I opted not to. Now I was regretting my decision. As I slowly moved up the snail-paced line, I felt the sudden urge to flush my morning coffee down the toilet. I grabbed my pantaloons and started hopping up and down like a mad man. Needless to say, there were people staring.

Just when I felt the first trickle of wetness, I made a mad dash for the outhouse. I clumsily found my way into a cubicle and slammed the door behind me. Aaah! What a relief. I did up my pantaloons, flushed the toilet and walked out of the cubicle. Then, I saw a...

© Copyright 1998 Writer's Very Limited

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