The Carriage

Tom could feel his vision blurring as he stared at the fuzzy pixels on his computer monitor. His mind drifted until a jolt of slumber brought him back to reality. His body reminding him it was getting late. He checked his phone and was able to confirm just how late it was. 3 missed calls from his wife. Another indicator that he’d been getting his work-life balance all wrong. He closed his laptop,  stowed it away in his bag and grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair. He headed towards the office’s exit. Nodding at the security guard who looked at his watch and gave a physical tut gesture.

Wondering the streets of London. He watched through pub windows as the patrons sipped the remnants of their last orders. He strolled past a homeless beggar who offered his finger-less gloves in anticipation of any charity. Tom offered a regretful shrug as he ambled down the steps to his tube platform.

Ten minutes remained until his train’s arrival, and an eerie sense of solitude enveloped him in the deserted station. Even the pre-recorded announcements had fallen silent. 6 minutes. Tom stared into the dark abyss from which his train would soon appear. Almost willing it to appear and save him from this sense of dread. The darkness from within the tunnel seemed strangely darker than usual. 4 minutes. As he stood on the platform he felt something brush past him. Not uncommon on a London Underground platform but an empty one?!? He looked in the direction of the breeze but saw nothing. He quickly convinced himself that this was likely a trick of the senses or a gust from a hidden train. The silence pressed on, intensifying his growing unease. 2 minutes. 

He looked over at a discarded newspaper that was lying on a bench furthest from him. The pages began to turn of their own accord, first slowly, then with increasing urgency. With a final flourish, the paper hurled itself onto the tracks. His heart raced as he observed the same eerie occurrence happening to another newspaper on the next bench.The menace behind this force seemed to inch closer, each paper thrown with greater intent. As the last paper was thrown a blood-curdling sweeping screaming sound came towards him. He screamed!

The tube train pulled to a halt in front of the now-petrified commuter. Tom stumbled aboard, relief washing over him. The train felt like a sanctuary, a reprieve from the malevolent presence haunting the station. Tom started to relax in his seat. As his composure was restoring he looked left down the carriage to see if it was empty. It was. He then looked right. It was empty bar a single passenger. A tall figure concealed beneath a hooded sweatshirt and mud-stained tracksuit zipped up to the collar. His trainers were also heavily soiled.  The stranger loomed ominously, arms hanging limply at his sides. 

Tom quickly averted his eyes. He could sense the stranger’s eyes boring into him from the depths of that blackened hood.  The train embarked on its journey, and the shadowy figure began to advance. “Don’t panic” Tom told himself. He could hear the loud footsteps getting louder and louder. Tom gazed back towards the stranger. As the figure passed from one carriage into the next, the lights behind him extinguished. Tom couldn’t explain it and decided to head towards the driver’s cabin. Glancing back repeatedly, he realised the sinister stranger was closing in. The squirming blackness behind this menace writhed with the motions of the train. Tom quickened his pace. The nerves and the shaking tube making it impossible to move any quicker. A sense of relief came over him as he got to the driver’s cabin door. Tom pounded on the door….no answer. He turned to see that the unknown companion was now in the same carriage. “Help” Tom yelled while banging even harder on the entrance. The figure was now upon him. It leaned forward. For the first time, Tom could make out the face of his assailant. With pale almost blueish skin, the lower part of a face could be made out from the shadows of the hood. The most unnerving crooked grin came across the shaded visage. The horror of which rendered Tom utterly speechless.

Abruptly, Tom bolted awake, his surroundings reasserting themselves. He was still on the tube. He looked around and could see a few other commuters. A friendly Asian lady gave him a reassuring smile. Tom laughed to himself. Feeling embarrassed. “We are now approaching Farringdon” came an announcement. Tom collected his belongings, eager to disembark. The door beeped and opened. Tom stepped out onto the platform, but as his foot met the concrete it seemed to vanish from underneath him. He landed on the tracks with a thud. He gingerly turned and looked up at the carriage. He could see he had somehow come out of the train on the wrong side. The hooded face leered down at him from the train, surrounded by passengers who all stared, their smiles joyless and forced. 

His instinct for self-preservation kicked into overdrive, but a blinding light pierced his vision, and the tracks beneath him rumbled violently. Tom struggled in vain to regain his footing before the approaching train claimed him. He felt nothing.

In the harsh illumination of the oncoming train’s lights, the malevolent features of the shrouded spectre were fully revealed. It was Death itself. The other passengers bowed their heads in apparent shame, slowly fading into obscurity. Death stepped away from the train’s door and entered the driver’s cabin, sealing the door behind him, as the train departed for the next stop.