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The Train

A short horror--Throwing around a new genre

By Zae JohnsonPublished 12 months ago 1 min read
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The Train
Photo by Roman Fox on Unsplash

The screech comes from above us, louder than anything you could've ever imagined. We hear it 4 times a day, 7 days a week. It's the train. It crawls above our home and scratches my ears until they bleed. The sound of the monster is the main cause of death in the place I call "The Dungeon". People stab out their eyes, others' too. The pain never ends, and neither does the flow of blood. It is a incessant fountain.

A man dead here, a woman dead there.

Hundreds die a day.

Here comes the train, inching closer and closer.

It scratches my ears until they bleed and pokes my eyes until they pop. It scratches my ears until they bleed and pokes my eyes until they pop. It scratches my ears until they bleed and pokes my eyes until they pop.

"Or maybe that's just me." I think, as I put an end to my suffering.

surreal poetry
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About the Creator

Zae Johnson

Hi! I'm a young writer in the process of writing a trilogy. I write fiction, non-fiction, and stories based on my life experiences. I write to entertain so I hope you enjoy all of my work!!!

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