ONCE ANGELS

'Darkest thoughts trouble my mind. And for fear of the scorn they would embirth in others, I dare not share them. Even now, I look at this world as though a stranger, my heart is numb and it has always been so.
If any would open the door, they must first possess a key. And this key is all that this world has given me.
On the bleak october morning, upon which they found me. Stuffed awkwardly into a cracked and twisted wicker crib, only a tattered fleece blanket to warm my infant body. The sisters of St.Winifred's children's home also found that key. Laid out carefully beneath my chilling body.
An ancient looking thing, even then, of a browny gold metal and adorned with script of an unknown tongue.
It almost seemed that whoever had deposited me there was less concerned for my survival than its own.
And I was the guardian of this object, my own barely born body chilled with the winters air and exposed an entire night to the elements.
Had I died, the key at least would have survived and been discovered. But the reason for this was unknown, for no note of instruction or revelation was accompanying the key.
Just its envoy.
A child.
As I write...'
TICKETS!

Jason stopped his script abrubtly, and with thin hands and dirty fingernails he gently folded the note and slipped it into the interior pocket of the puffa jacket he wore against the cold.
For a teenager of 15 years, his eyes were heavily ringed with dark shadows which betrayed many sleepless or disturbed nights. But the light grey eyes which sat in their midst were also aflame with an intelligence and depth far beyond his actual age.
Those eyes were the sort of which elderly women, cooing over a newborn, would invariably comment 'He's been here before'.
And in every likelihood they may be correct, but he could not be certain. He certainly saw things of late which could be explained by no other measure, other than having lived another life. And yet, these to may be signs of the madness which he feared may actually be creeping up his spine toward the core of his haggled brain.
TICKETS!
Jason half turned his head, and looking up the carriage of the train, a ticket master was peddling his wares or clipping tokens with a shiny set of snips. Jason softly fingered the key which now hung about his neck by a strong silver chain. It was beneath the blue jumper and as safe as it could be. He had no idea why it carried such a weight of importance to him. Since the sisters had surrendered it to him from the safe storage at the age of 14, he had jealously clung to it. Maybe as it was the only remaining relic (or clue) to who he was, and who had left him to die or triumph alone that night?

The ticket master now stood directly behind him, fiddling with spent stubs from numerous tickets. Clumsily he stuffed the wad into a pocket on his black uniform jacket and looked toward Jason.
"Afternoon young sir.Do you have a ticket?"
The man wore a broad and welcoming smile. Almost fatherly. Within him Jason bit down hard on that track of thought. It rose to many unpleasant questions, which had dogged him for as long as he cared remember.
Still, if he could choose a father figure this man was to old. Somewhere between 50 and 60 by looks alone.
With his strong Canadian accent, He also reminded Jason (in part) of Father Rachels. A man best forgotten for more reasons than one.

"I have no ticket" Jason replied.
"OK, then where are you going to?"
For a moment jason fully considered the question. And had to admit that he really did not know.
"I do not know where I am going, sorry"
A look of bemusement crossed the ticket masters face. And within his mind he had seen Jason's type before. Probably some runaway carrying money stolen someplace, or a reformed junkie who may be clean, but only ever a wink away from sticking you with a blade if only for the kicks alone.
Something about this young man caused the flesh to crawl on your arms, and even all the way up your back. Those eyes. Clawing right through your mind.
The ticket master visibly shuddered.
"Well this line ends in Manstown, Right before the alaskan border country. So what's it to be friend?"
Jason gave a moments thought to that enquiry.
And with an ingenuine smile he said.
"Take me to the end of the line".