<div style="background-color:#443266; border:1px solid black; margin:10px 10px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px;"><div style="background-color:#C3C3E5; border:1px solid black; margin:10px 10px; padding-left: 5px; padding-right: 5px;"><span style="color: #443266"><img alt="" src="http://orig09.deviantart.net/715f/f/2016/072/4/f/rsz_1woman_308590_960_720_by_lordwizardhat-d9v0ayw.png" style="float:left; padding:6px;"/>★<span style="font-family: Edwardian Script ITC;"><span style="font-size: 200%; line-height: 116%;">V I V I E N N E</span></span>  ★<br/>"<span style="font-style: italic">Maman?</span>" <br/><br/>Vivienne tensed up her body as the young man croaked out the word. This wasn't her son. Her son was safe, far, far away from Amersham. And yet she had seen her son's eyes in his, and he had seen his mother's face in hers?<br/><br/>The world was full of coincidences.<br/><br/>The woman didn't have time to think before the train car was again plunged into chaos, this time worst than the first. It lurched and spun with a horrible screeching; glass exploded, darkness came, and someone screamed. Vivienne was faintly aware that the scream was her own. <br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Why did I get on the train car?</span> was Vivienne's only thought that went through her mind as she tumbled, her shot nerves barely registering that the man was now holding to her tightly.<br/><br/>The question posed to herself brought no answers, only silence. Vivienne couldn't answer for her own actions. Did that mean she had lost control of herself? She had never been impulsive, nor intuitive. She didn't follow intuition, go around corners with only faith to guide her.<br/><br/>So what was this?<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">I am going to die.</span><br/><br/>But it wasn't her time, not yet. Vivienne found herself against the train car's wall in the corner, sitting on the ceiling. Was the world upside down? No, the train car was. <br/><br/>It had all been a terrible accident. There was no demon, no dark, hungry, inexplainable force. There was a derailment, or perhaps they had gone too fast or missed a signal, hit another train or a car. That seemed right. <br/><br/>Vivienne pushed herself up, using the walls to help balance herself. She walked, as one in shock, to the front of the train car, with perfect posture and glassy eyes. Zombified. She saw the giant tear in the metal of the train car, twisting and ripped as if some savage animal had taken it in their jaws. Her shoulder was screaming in pain.<br/><br/>As soon as Vivienne stepped through the hole and onto the pebbly ground, she tilted over and began to heave. Gone was the Honey Nut Cheerios she had had for breakfast, the Hungry Man lunch, the coffee with too much sugar. Even after its contents were expunged, it seemed that her stomach insisted on removing itself, trying to crawl up her throat, leave her body, escape the feeling of tossing, turning, breaking.<br/><br/>Vivienne put an arm on the side of the car, letting out a few choking spittles before slowly standing with a shudder of revulsion. She didn't look at the mess she had made. She would just begin again if she did.<br/><br/>The ground didn't feel right. It wasn't possible to be near the beach, or anywhere with such smooth stones.<br/><br/>Her children. Vivienne had to call them, tell them she was okay. The crash would be on the news. Reaching into her pocket, Vivienne retrieved her phone. She scrolled blindly through her contacts, clicking the first name she found. Sam. She pressed the green phone icon and pushed her bushy hair away, raising the device to her ear and looking forward.<br/><br/>"<span style="font-style: italic">Your call cannot be completed at this time. Please try again later,</span>" the automated message was ignored as Vivienne slowly lowered the phone to her side, taking in the environment around her.<br/><br/>Gone was the train, gone was the tracks. Gone was the city and the countryside. Instead, it was replaced with an endless sea of bleak grays and blacks. A literal sea. She could hear it lapping against the shore, and another noise, not as distinct. Voices, speaking—no, chanting in a foreign tongue. The longer she listened, the more fear grew in her heart.<br/><br/>"—please try again later."<br/><br/>The classroom, with its cheery yellow and chalkboard, was forgotten. Vivienne couldn't find it. She was trapped where she was, listening to the horrible voices, and she was all alone.<br/><br/>No, not alone.<br/><br/>"—cannot be completed at this time."<br/><br/>There were voices in the train car, not the ghastly chanters, nor the automated message. Vivenne turned and ran back to it, like someone trying to run and escape the dark. It was the only place that seemed safe and natural, familiar if only for a few moments before this hell. As she climbed inside she fell, her legs finally giving out. The phone clattered out of her hand, still playing that damned message.<br/><br/>"<span style="font-style: italic">You all right, ma'am?</span>"<br/><br/>Snap, snap back together. Vivienne struggled to find reality. Someone was asking her a question. Focus on it. She looked up. It was the young man.<br/><br/>"I-I can't move my legs, I think," Vivienne managed. Her voice felt tiny and foreign. "There's nothing wrong with them, but there's something wrong with me." She took his hand in order to push herself up, leaning against the wall as she did so. <br/><br/>"What is this?" Her voice was only a hoarse, cracked vessel of sound. She coughed. "What is this?" she said again, stronger but still uncontrolled. "Where are we, and—who are you?" <br/><br/>"Your call cannot be completed at this time. Please try again later."<br/></span></div></div>