164 Barred's Way

He stands there waiting,  waiting for his train. His senses then begin to heighten. Every foreign noise whether internal or external permitting from inside him. The ever changing wind that passes by him switches from cold to hot then back again.  The dull  colors become vibrant,  every variation of color becoming noticeable.  His thoughts are clouded, it's his train. His vision becoming distorted,  images becoming bent. Bent by him. "I wonder if it will be like everyone says" he whispers to himself. "What if it's worse?" he utters. "What if it's better? If there's a possibility of it being worse than it can also be better." As the cool breeze hits his face, a sudden sense of euphoria lays itself upon him. With a brief look of relief on his face he began to get nervous about what was to come. Compared to the things he did before, this should be a calm-walk. He can see the smoke of the train in the distance and the closer it got, the more nervous he became. He glanced down "164 Barred's Way" was engraved into his forearm. He nodded and looked back up, the train roaring even closer now. "I hope she knows where to look," he says to himself as he stares down the oncoming train. With the nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach growing he stuck out his left arm and waited. Before he knew it the train had come and all nervousness and feeling had been lost. He was free

Mars One - Launch date 7-8-1

Approximately two weeks after the crash...
She put a finger to his lips "stop" she said "we shouldn't."
"..."
"No! You're crazy!"
Her once well nourished body is now a decrepit bag of bones. As she staggers through the stream of blood, corpses lie in her wake. Nearly falling as she kneels down she picks up the arm of her now deceased captain.
"Do you promise you won't mind"? She whispers as she slowly lifts the rotting limb to her mouth.
"..."
"Okay, but remember, this was your idea."
She opens her mouth and the flesh connects with her teeth. Without hesitation she takes a chunk out of the limb as if it were an apple. The smell putrid, the texture coriaceous, the taste outré. She starts chewing like she's never chewed before until she gets to the bone. She whispers, "Thank you" and waits for a response.
There is nothing.

masterpiece interviews

When talking to people about their masterpieces there was a lot of I'm focusing on this followed by a slight hesitation when asked what exactly what they were doing. The confusion part that was there makes sense especially when it comes to this masterpiece.

beginnings

The masterpiece hasn't been serving a purpose.
 I'm not really sure how it's supposed to.