train 107

Scary?

Bill, the b*****d. Three hours overworked and now I sit alone in the cold at Newbury Station and it’s his entire fault. I dream of the rats on the opposite platform devouring his black heart �" too much, Brandon? Maybe, yeah. My brain decides I feel lonely and I shiver in the cold. Two-forty five A.M blinks my watch. Even the wind is still as the station stands deserted; I miss the warm embrace of noise, movement and people.

Sometimes when you’re tired your brain plays tricks on you; you know the cruel paranoia that claws its way into your consciousness when you’re alone? I do. I can feel the eyes burning into my chest but there’s no one here. You’re alone, Brandon, completely alone.

I shake the pathetic cloak of paranoia from my shoulders as the last train through Newbury grinds to a halt; “F**k Christ, we all die alone” is scrawled across the first carriage.

“Poetic” I mutter to no one.

I haul my briefcase up and enter the train, crossing the infamous gap which I minded appropriately.

The carriage hangs heavy with the dull scent of vomit and the lights flicker as sparks fly. I settle into an uncomfortable seat and rest my head on the window as speckles of rain begin to fall. Beautiful lights are caught in the drople- wait, was that a cough? Yes, it was just a cough. The hairs on my arms are standing up from the shock, though. Should I check? I’ll check.

I peek my head over the crest of the seat and search for the source of the sound: up ahead, perhaps one or two rows, is the top of someone’s head, rising from the chair like an auburn hillock. I smile, so maybe I wasn’t alone as I thought. The hair makes me feel warm and I sink back into my seat.

The second cough. This time it was guttural. With a little hesitancy, I slowly rise in my seat. My briefcase pops quietly under the pressure as I tense up: the head is gone. At first of course I blame paranoia and my exhausted brain. I search for a logical explanation as the train grinds to a halt in Bridgeton. She got up to get off. She got to get off. SHET GOT UP TO GET OFF, my logic screams. But three A.M on a Tuesday morning is no time to trust your logic.

Slowly and with a tension in my muscles I havn’t experience since…well, forever, I lower the briefcase cautiously to the floor. Using the grace of an elephant I lean far to the left and peep both ways down the aisle. Empty. The lights flicker. Panic, I always said, was a useless emotion, but right now it dominated my entire being. Fear was alright, I could handle fear, but panic hits you like a balloon of custard. It tears apart the logical defences of your mind and forces violent and absurd scenarios into your fickle human brain: it destroys reality.

Grasping at slowly fading strings of composure, I open my briefcase and grab the metal ruler from amongst wads of paper. I am going to die, I concluded. Then came the most terrifying noise of all: a low and beautiful whistle, followed by hacking coughing. I’m really going to die, just like in the films. My brain clicked. What if this is just my imagination? It made the whole thing potentially bearable �" maybe I just fell asleep at the station and this is just a dream? A sick, sick dream.

With this idea flourishing in my head, courage rises up in me like the surging tide and I get up from the seat. Together, we rise. Crossing to the doors I slam the emergency brake button, yet the train trundles on, unperturbed. More coughing and the train shakes as the lights in the next carriage alone flicker and fail. You’re dreaming, Brandon, my mind screams as I rap myself across the arm with the ruler. Real, infallible pain strikes me and I exhale quietly as the fresh bruise appears on my forearm. A combination of fear panic sweeps over me and my body shakes with incredible force.

All of a sudden I can feel my heart beating and the blood coursing through my veins. Red fades across my vision and my breathing grows faster and faster. The coughing grows louder and louder. I am the train tearing through the countryside with pure thunder at my wheels. The world shakes and spins as I take staggering steps towards the coughing. Seat by seat, row by row, the tempo of my fear grew and grew. I groan as horror rattles my body and the coughs mutate into roars and moans and there…

The girl. The woman. The beast.

She turns to me with black soulless eyes and a mouth riddled with foul teeth. I strike down upon her with such ferocity and rage that my crisp white shirt soon runs with the demons crimson blood.

And then silence.

Rage ebbed away and I fell back, exhausted. My head spins and in seconds, I pass out on the floor of the train.

Seconds, minutes, hours…days later. I am awoken by a heart-wrenching-brain-curdling scream. Eyes, tearing at the lid, open slowly and I gaze up into the face of a female business woman. Her face is so contorted with fear that it was frightful to behold.

‘Wh…at?’ I stutter.

The woman screams again. Stepping back, she slips on the…blood? Shifting slightly I glance to my left. Laying crumpled between two seats is the body of an auburn-haired young woman with a metallic ruler embedded in her forehead. My metallic ruler.

Sometimes, when you’re tired, your mind plays tricks on you.

Reviews

[KAOlmsted]

Yikes! That's some craziness right there. Our lad Brandon is in a world of s**t and all he can think to say is, "Sometimes, when you’re tired, your mind plays tricks on you."?? *laugh* Great tale, Harry, as always, I love reading you!

-kimmer

[de_maruf]

fine

[Lonely Islander]

Oh god...this was awesome and so inyeresting. the thrill to get to the end and know what really is going on and the vivid scenarios in the train and the station were mind-blowing...really really good job!
oh n panic hits me like a balloon of poop:-D:-D:-D:-).

[Harry Alston]

Thank you so much for your kind comment, I am glad you enjoyed it, and haha, custard hurts more than you think.

[Lonely Islander]

maybe i should try hitting myself with a balloon of custardXD.

[Marie]

this is some story. I started out thinking it was a dream...then knew it wasn't...then the horror built to the shattering conclusion.

Is there any way you can leave the first paragraph off? It seems misplaced.

[Harry Alston]

Thanks as always Marie, I will slice the first paragraph off. Shorter the better.

[DrD]

Well crafted, this tale builds in suspense with almost perfect timing. A hint of the supernatural blended with the ultimate need for reality. I liked the buildup very much. I am not overly pleased with the conclusion. It seems to bit too trite for the excellence of the building portion of the story. A very good job of constructing the story with superb writing, but again, I think the ending is a bit weak and does not do justice to its beginning.

[Harry Alston]

Thank you very much, sir. It's appreciated, as always. I will try and rework the ending before fully publishing this. Thank you!

[quinfinn]

whew! this was an incredible ride...some of the word choices you make are just...well, superb. for a while i thought i was in the movie "midnight meat train" but you brought me back down to hell with your own perverse twist on abject horror , terrific write!!!!

[Harry Alston]

Thank you as always quin! Love your comments.

[Adam Whitworth]

fantastic