A life in miniature. That was
the answer Stephen would give when asked why he spent so much time with
his trains. It's true that by the age of 32, he should have outgrown
them, placed them in a box for storage in the attic and be happy with
the memories. Still, here he was, crouched down low with a piece of
broken track in one hand and a blue engine in the other. Curtis looked
on, almost antsy with anticipation but respecting his uncle's request
for both silence and stillness. Not easy for a seven year old. Spread
out before them in the basement studio was the largest railroad track
that Curtis had ever seen. It seemed to go on for miles and miles,
twisting through tunnels and moving over mountains and careening around
buildings, slicing off at various junctures to create two trails out of
one and then one out of two. Stephen ignored the boy. He was angry at
Karen for allowing his nephew to come down here. The boy had no
business here. So Stephen kept at his task of restoring order through
repair. A life in miniature and also, a world completely under his
control. Curtis, though, could feel something rising inside of him. He
kept it contained, whatever it was, and continued to eye the tracks.
Everything seemed so perfect. Everything in its place. Curtis' world
was never this neat and ordered and despite his love for his uncle, the
only thing Curtis could think about was ripping up this entire world
and feeling the power of destruction. It would be like King Kong! Or
Godzilla! Stephen remained patient with the track. A small screw was
coming loose. "I need to get a screwdriver, Curtis. Upstairs. Don't
touch a thing." Curtis nodded and watched his uncle go up the stairs.
It was the moment. The moment when Godzilla came alive and wreaked
vengeance on an unsuspecting world.
