Midtown Reader Blog

Story Slam Winner Rachel Weaver: "Spirits"

I’m sitting on a train. It is quiet. I sit alone holding a grey book, at one end of an empty car. The world around this miniscule, individual world in which I sit is moving quickly, chugging by, spinning round, wearing us down. Is the train moving, or is the earth? Is time moving, or am I? I’m sitting on a train. It is quiet. I sit alone holding a grey book, at one end of an empty car. An old lady boards. I cannot see her face. She wears black, her face covered by a shawl. She shuffles in, hunched over herself, moving like an umbrella against the wind in the middle of a hurricane. She is full of care. She pushes against this invisible force for minutes, hours, months, years. Time does not ex

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