Hotels never really shut, unless it’s for good. That means someone like me always has to be there to maintain things, someone cleaning the halls or manning the front desk in case anything goes wrong or if anyone needs to check in on a late night. I pride myself on being able to work at irregular times, on the late period nobody else can stomach, when they miss their families or want to sleep. So getting work at a nearby hotel was great for me.
The journey isn’t too long but it’s not a distance I can walk to, so I get a train. Can’t exactly afford a car and it’s only a few minutes away on the train anyway, so the price isn’t too bad, and I have the car mostly to myself. Luckily a night train runs, so I don’t have to burn through my savings on a taxi. In spite of all that, I still can’t stand it.
It’s not the waiting for the train at night where anyone could come out, or even just the walk in the night, it’s… The inside, being alone in there. Even though it’s never busy I always end up feeling confined. I can’t really focus on anything; I just want it to be done. I always rush out the doors the minute they open, and when I’m out it all just lifts off me.
I remember my first day on the job. Or first night, if you want. It wasn’t empty, there were about 2 others at the time, sitting on the opposite sides of the carriage. I made myself comfortable and checked my phone, it was all I could really do with no friends to text, all of them being asleep as you can imagine. It was only public transport, so it was never gonna be the smoothest ride. Every few seconds the train would rattle, like it was bumping against its own wheels, and eventually the carriages would knock against some branches, echoing all the way inside.
I tried distracting myself; staring at my phone, looking at pictures but within the first minute I realised I couldn’t concentrate, it was too much.
I got this unstable feeling, and held onto something, my hand resting on one of the bars near the seat. I felt the train make a turn and there was a grating screech from the tracks that I couldn’t help but wince at. I wanted desperately to cover my ears but even more desperately I didn’t want to let go of that bar. I talk about it in all this detail but in reality, I’m pretty sure it only lasted a few seconds. Though I’d disagree at the time about how long it felt, in truth it went as soon as it arrived.
It happens sometimes, the rail squeal. Something to do with friction I think but I couldn’t stand it as I don’t believe anyone does. Regardless, the train eventually made it to the next station. By the end, I was rushing off to my stop and I felt a bit of relief the minute I stepped off the train. Going from the platform to the gates was a blur and walking around in the dark wasn’t much better on account of being on your own in the middle of the night. Then, I was cleaning halls and things were in the back of my mind for the rest of my shift, until the journey home.
I can’t stand that journey, but taxis would eat away at what little I’m left with. I hear it even over my cheap shitty headphones at max volume. I memorised all the little sights and noises of my train journey; when the houses would stop, when we’d go over the bridge, when the branches would knock against the metal walls and echo inside, and the rails squealing. But I could at least grit my teeth and bear with it had it not been for last week.
There wasn’t anything special about that night, or the day before. There were rail strikes, but those were the day before. My train wasn’t affected but strikes mean that any train lines not on strike get a hell of a lot busier.
It gets cramped with people coming back from nightclubs or theatres, but part of me enjoys having other people there. Last night though, the train was damn near-empty as usual.
Only one other person was there. I took a seat. Even before the train started moving I couldn’t sit still. I was fidgeting and getting goosebumps. At the time I thought I was coming down with something. My thoughts went to what medicine I could take. My job didn’t land me around many people so I might not even need to take time off, then I looked around. The train was moving. I hadn’t even noticed, too caught up in my own thoughts.
I tried to get settled in as best I could, but at this point that was a fool’s errand. All I could do was wait as the train moved, the whole thing shuddering every few seconds. I stared out the window into the night. We were going slower than normal, a voice on the intercom droning on about problems with the line as if there was barely anyone to listen.
Even though I was winding down from work that discomfort kept me awake, everything felt so cloying. The seats were too hot, the air too stuffy. I am not a claustrophobic person, I believe that before that train ride and I believe it after, but if you were to ask me while I was on that seat, I honestly don’t know what my answer would have been.
Then, it all stopped and I damn near fell out of my seat despite how slow I knew it had been going. Might’ve thought the whole thing was shaking, but I took a deep breath. That stuffiness was still there, but I felt like I could lean back, achieve some semblance of comfort. I guess the train stopping helped ground me in some ways. I looked at the other person in the carriage and gave them a smile, trying to reassure them and I guess myself, though for what I didn’t really know.
I could hear a tapping, something knocking against the train. I’d memorised the “landmarks” of the journey if you wanted to call them that, and we weren’t nearly at the point where we’d go past the branches. I’m sure of that, but I could hear that knocking all the same. It didn’t sound like trees either, it was… deliberate. Looking out the window I saw a tree trunk dangerously close to the train, the knocking was coming from that direction. In the corner of my eye, I could see the other guy had suddenly turned pale, gripping his seat as the train creaked. He was staring out the window too. Finding the energy, I stood up, making my way over to the glass panes.
The thing that was not a tree leaned against the train; its soft wrinkly skin looked like bark at first glance but if you stood as close as I did… you’d see it. The light from the carriage showed a dull pink that made me think of a worm. It was covered with bumps and growths about the size of my head, each one with at least 3 holes in that looked like some sort of ghost mask, but the holes all moved and changed shape slightly, like they were making expressions but I couldn’t quite tell what. From the light inside I could see it’s shadow curving at the roof of the train.
The train rocked again.
I got a chill, like something was behind me. The other guy screamed. He was now staring at the opposite window. Another face, bigger than all the others could ever be. It was staring at us upside down from that window, looking deep into us with those hollow, stretched out sockets. Its long, bony arms stiff, dragging along the train like it was looking for something. I was hyperventilating, half because of the fear and half because of how hard it was becoming to breathe. Through all that, the intercom voice blared like this whole thing was normal, talking about how we would get moving in a bit and to just sit tight. I wanted to strangle whoever was on the other side of that voice.
I could hear the metal denting under it, like the vehicle was having the life squeezed out of it, and as more metal along the carriage dented, I couldn’t help but wonder how long the thing’s body went. I didn’t know if it was trying to break through or simply crush the whole thing. The doors opened. Just one pair between me and the other guy. Instead of fresh air coming in more stuffiness just seemed to flow through, the more I breathed it in, the worse it got. I choked on that stale air, falling back in my seat, staring at my only exit.
There was nothing beyond the door, the carriage lights not barely even making it past the doors. I looked out the windows again, they still showed the normal world, but that door was pure black. But that didn’t matter. I just wanted to escape but I could barely move. I watched the other passenger. He was stumbling, holding onto whatever support he could find as he made his way to the door. I wanted to join him so desperately I felt tears go down my eyes. That staleness felt so heavy on me, almost as heavy as the exhaustion from that night. I wanted to cough, I wanted something to just get that air out of me, but all I could do was watch the passenger take his first step out that door, then the next until he vanished.
I was losing consciousness, but I could hear grinding metal, and even though the train stood still those rails screeched.
Like that, I woke up. I don’t usually fall asleep on trains, I make it a rule not to unless I was travelling with someone, but I was alone. The train had just made it to the next stop and the doors opened. Well, I guess I was lucky I woke back up. I looked around the carriage, the walls and ceiling were undented and pristine… As pristine as public transport can be anyway. When all the doors opened, I saw the lights along the station, but couldn’t see the passenger or anyone leaving.
Those train rides are worse now. The rails screech even more tonight, though I don’t really believe it’s friction anymore. I’d cover my ears, but I’ve fallen back into my old habit of clutching the bars even when seated. I wish I could have moved or got a taxi there, but unfortunately, I still can’t afford it. When I think about those gasping faces the room always feels small, and I have to remind myself I’m not claustrophobic. Still, I guess there’s solace in the applications I send to other areas. Some are slightly farther and as a result, a little pricier but at least I can just afford them. I can’t sleep as much on the off chance I get called for an interview during the day. Fingers crossed…