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The Train

He sat next to me and my throat ran dry

By Leah DeweyPublished 2 years ago 4 min read
The Train
Photo by Jordan Steranka on Unsplash

The storm ranged wildly outside. With the fast pace of the train the rain drops almost looked like razor blades slicing through the wind and the trees. It was difficult to see much beyond what was right outside the window. It was hot in the train cab, muggy. I could feel the beads of sweats starting to form around my scalp. I leaned my forehead against the window and let the freezing glass calm down the uncomfortable feeling.

I turned back towards the center of the train as a giggling gaggle of teenagers walked past sipping on their drinks from the fake Starbucks in the front. A few of them glance at me and continue their judgmental laughter. One of them looked more closely at me and I could tell from her expression I was doing it again. I quickly turned away from her and back towards the violence of the rain outside. I pulled my hood up over my face to cover my face from anyone else who might see and crossed my arms over my chest.

I needed to get a handle on things. I needed to learn to control myself if I was going to make it through this, make it out alive. I never wanted to know what it was like to disappear. I closed my eyes and focused on the sounds of the train. The slight scratching of the mental pressing painfully against the tracks. It sounded like howling cats in the night. I wasn’t exactly sure where we were but in the howling of the night, it seemed pointless that the horn was still going off sporadically.

I could see behind my eyelids the changing colors and I opened to see we were approaching another stop. I could see several people gathering up their things in order to exit the train. I closed my eyes again and hoped no one would see me clearly. I waited, listening intently to the screeching against the tracks as the train paused. Only an hour to go. I still wasn’t sure what I’d find when I arrived at her house in the dark but it had to be better than my options back home.

I opened my eyes abruptly as I felt someone take the seat next to me. I glanced quickly before turning away. A sharply dressed man who looked like he belonged on a river boat in the 1920s. His crisp white hat was two sizes too big but he wore it with wonderful confidence. He managed to give me a sharp wink before I was able to turn away. I looked back at the rain.

“It’s nasty out there. I’m glad I’m safe here,” he started with a nervous giggle. I smirked at him and turned back to the window. I wasn’t sure I could handle any conversation, even a meaningless one like the weather. “So where are you headed?”

“To my Aunt’s place in the Bayu,” I muttered.

“Lydia, right?” he asked and my eyes snapped open again. I glanced back at him but he was staring forward as if he hadn’t just spoken to me.

“Who are you?”

Now he turned to me with glossed over and hollowed eyes. I clenched the armrests of the seat and tried to hold back a scream. I knew my eyes were giving me away when he gave me a curled sneer.

“That’s not important. The real question here is who are you?”

“I’m nobody,” I answered, unconvincingly. I glanced back out the train window into the wild storm outside. A moment ago I was grateful for the cover and warmth of the train, now I felt I’d rather be outside at nature’s mercy. Nature would do far less damage than the curiosity of men. The man lowered his head and chuckled a little, letting the hat fall and cover his terrifying eyes.

“We both know that’s not true. You might not know what that thing is inside of you, but you certainly aren’t nobody. You’re very special,” he replied, tilting his head back. “I’m sure your Aunt Lydia would agree. Did you think she could help you? Hide you perhaps or help you figure out what’s taking control of your body?”

I sat frozen, listening to him. My knuckles were sore and white against the armrests. I could feel the tears starting to swell up. They reflected the over powering light shooting my eyes and I could barely see him through the glare.

“To be honest, I’m a bit curious, myself, what she could do for you. I’m supposed to just bring you back right away, but I think we have a little time to visit your Aunt Lydia. I’m sure she’s excited to see you.”

He sounded so genuine and sincere, it was almost hard to remind myself that he worked for them. Now there was no way out. The muggy train continued to pull out beads of sweat and my tears fell parallel from my glittery eyes. The storm was still going strong as I leaned my head onto the frozen train window.


About the Creator

Leah Dewey

I am a novelist with a Masters in Forensic Psychology. I have experience writing in many formats. Follow me down into the dark corners of imagination. Experience thrills & chills through poetry & short stories.

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    Leah DeweyWritten by Leah Dewey

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