



There was a typical day coming home from work, catching the train in a timely manner was no surprise.

Sitting on the one available seat before me, however, was a hand-written message, no, possibly a memento that was left behind from the previous occupant.





I, along with the rest of the domesticated people-pushers, take my seat silently and proceed to analyze the note with its cryptic etching.













The linear repetition taking the entirety of this eerie transcript sparked my interest for the remainder of train ride home.

The one word, hard to distinguish, phonetically puzzling and almost questionable penmanship…





T.U.R.M.E.R.

T.U.R.N.E.R.

T.U.N.N.E.L.









































Hand-drawn boarders occupying every centimeter, written in sequence that is mirrored on the bottom half in equal measure.

Additionally, the paper itself carried a different kind of weight, metaphysically speaking.





Not because of a handwritten note existing in our isolated e-culture, rather some energy source began to become more transparent throughout every pen stroke.





































In my eye(s), every letter began to emit a “glow”, becoming an emotional signature, akin to the Light Writing technique found in digital photography (thanks Picasso !).





Going further, I would place my hand on the paper itself, allowing the sensitivity of my palm to rake across every handwritten indentation.





























Internally, waves of stress, frantic urgency and excitement began to consume within my shell; no doubt the emotional imprint left behind from the anonymous author.









Was this really happening? Or has this experience become the result of excess fluoride intake effecting brain functionality.

I began to fish the idea to friends and colleagues, showing the parchment to those who could be more receptive toward empathic inquiry.



T.U.N.N.E.L.





















One friend reinforced an original assessment that I aspired to be true, mentioning the possibility of “TUNNEL” being maniacally spelled from beginning to end.





Naturally I gravitated towards that possibility, this in part of the Sci-Fi short story entitled “ TUNNELS:The Darkest Nexus ” I developed, of which my friend alluded, indicating this being “some sort of sign” (insert corny ghostly sound fx here).

























Why did I find this orphaned handwritten note, on a commuter train filled to near capacity, that appears to (aspiring empathic accessibility implied) exude a wavelength of transferable energy?





This note, of which has become a personal keepsake and continues to travel with me.