The Toll Collector
He sat still on the train looking out to the passing by world.
He was thankful in a bigger picture that he was finally alone and not bothered by the countless stresses he had sustained from the long and challenging week. He soaked in the solitude of the whistling wind that grazed past his window and the low toned lights that glistened off the shiny wood finish that he was surrounded by.
He looked around from his singular seat of old designed polyester material with the course material stitched around the outer rims of the cushion he was sitting on. I guess the Train company wanted to preserve some of the original history of the current train to help drive in some of the proud “Historian Types.” He did not care too much for it, but it was a detail to add all the same.
He adjusts his Blue Under armor hoodie and the light orange under armor hat on his crown as a fear of being seen seemed to bother him. the reputation he had created for himself after a long hardship of a life and the many sacrifices that he had obtained had come to fall back on him. falling on him like an avalanche and he had no coat.
As growing up he had fascinations with the idea of “being known” out in the world for the simple choices he would make like a politician or be an inspiration for being relatable to his own, hardships from the eyes of others he does not know. Instead of either one of those being the destination he had sought he somehow was gifted with a rare gift of a strong right hook.
Known from all over from the age of 16 and up, Ernest Jade Helms a.k.a “The Toll Collector.”
A proud Young Black Kid that went on to become a young golden globe winner from the mean streets of Ashley Bane. Used to always get into fights to demand his respect and welp find that way to establish his name amongst his fellow young men a form of security. As he grew up dirt poor with his two sisters and a junkie of a mother- (who sadly had died from an overdose of fentanyl) out in the toolshed on his older sister’s birthday. So Dear Ernest was used to always being so defensive over himself and his siblings from the constant threat of orphanages and the cops breaking in their home to steal them away from each other. A traumatic forging he must have undergone to perfect that “right hook.”
A right hook that had punched he and his two sister’s tickets of staying together and ranking in a considerable amount of money. Professionally fighting in the boxing ring for a living and earning his legacy under a little over five years or so sitting on top of a mountain of his own creation of jaws he has cracked to earn him a 3x world champion notch under his belt, being undefeated for 3 out of those 5 years, and lastly a 2x midweight boxing champion.
“The Toll Collector” was the name that the B.W.P- (Boxing. World. Press) gave him due to the raw nature of his athletic prowess to the other boxers that would approach him.
A reference to the idea of “everyone pays the toll” but, in this case “Everyone Pays him.”
So there and now in his sports apparel from under armor (one of his many sponsors) after the grueling week he had from leaving his wife and two sons to travel for a fight overseas. He was on his way home after a solid victory. Taking the last train ride to the local airport to transport him back home to Ashley Bane. He was happy as his Trainor and longtime friend “Robert Pinks” along with his security team allowed him to break away for at least an hour or two. It was a lot to dodge the cameras with all the attention to be focused on him.
He looked out again into that window captivated by the scenery instantly becoming reminded of a simpler way of living that was still out there. “Excuse me sir”
A young and beautiful stewardess that was walking by with the concession cart had an ice-cold alcoholic drink in her hand waiting on the fighter’s response to take it off her task list. He smiled and obliged appropriately smiling and nodding into her blue eyes and barbie like complexion. “Thank You miss I appreciate it. Boy you have a beautiful train here... this is like Some Call Backs to when I was a kid on a train...”
“Oh, really sir?”
“Yeah, I was always so fascinated by trains in movies and shows. One time I boarded a train to get away from some cops since I was trying to get back to my sick sister. So, I hopped on the back of a last car like a wild western and somehow got in... snuck in through the other cars and what not and took in the whole different world that lied on tracks such as the one this train is traveling on now… I was blown away.”
“Wow… that’s crazy to hear that from such a proud Fighter”
“Yeah, we all have those roads we must travel to get somewhere. Am I right?”
“Sure...”
The woman’s confident customer service answer was met with an abrupt silent reply as she looked at the darkened car door ahead of her. as if her boss was there to give her a stare down on doing something she should not be doing. Ernest noticed that too but he could not get a visual as, she was getting. He just had to take her expression for it and understand.
“What did I get you in trouble?”
Ernest asked kindly as he then slowly moved his opened hand that was not holding the icy cold alcohol drink. He figured a best course for her to know was a sense of security being that he was a softy for a damsel in distress.
The blonde hair Cart tenant of the car looked slowly back into Ernests eyes and slowly replied.
“No Sir, but you are...”
“Excuse me?”
“Listen the end of the line is coming up, ok? Do not get off! They will tell you it is YOUR stop, but it is not! You see We are, about to Pass OVER The HELLRAISER, it is the Hellraiser that tricks and cheats the Natural Law by bringing “Unknowing” over to his dimension and not letting them go! Its this Train that will protect you! DO NOT GET OFF!”
His rant attracted a sudden emergence of Conductors/ Security men to appear from the opposite sides of the car running at her with a form of vengeance. Ernest stood up defensive of what was about to proceed in regard to this troubled customer service worker. He was balling up his fists and trying to place his hands up for the men coming to calm down. As he was crowding the woman who started to have affright when she had noticed the men coming. Suddenly a welcoming strong hand distracted him long enough for the men in blue to snag her away from his protective grasps.
She started to scream and holler as they had restrained her and started to take her away opposite from them. “REMEMBER WHAT I SAID!!!! REMEMBERRRRR” the final word she was able to mutter before she had disappeared into the blackness.
Ernest felt bad for her outcome. He then turned back again slowly to look at the owner of thus hand.
“I am so sorry sir for that Rude behavior of our dear Beatrice. She has been struggling recently with a recent loss of her husband Dante. He was from a local village this set of tracks pass by and we, have noticed she has not been albe to take his death well at all...”
Ernest turned around to look at a short White man with a nicely trimmed mustache. He wore a dark navy-blue suit with a white buttoned up underneath to showcase his leisure fitting. His hair was a slight combover with a spiked mesh. Ernest
was not sure if he was in a for of power on the train until he caught a glimpse of the small golden name tag on his upper left chest. So, he spoke his name out loud once more to help make the right proper introductions.
“Well Mr. Duncan…perhaps a vacation for Beatrice would go along away with an escort to her cabin first, right? I mean you guys do stay on here for these long travels across these different lands of mine, right?”
“Oh yes I can totally tell you Mr. Helms she will be WELL taken care of...”
