There is no train line near my house. Yet every single night, and every single morning at the crack of dawn, I hear a familiar horn followed by a long whooshing that practically shakes my house.
I live in quite a suburban area, with my house situated in the back corner of my street, which backs on to some simple storage factories. It’s a large house that I’ve lived in all my life, and as far as I can tell, there’s been no renovations as of late… so why am I hearing this train?
The first time I heard it, I was watching TV in my living room, and I thought it had come from my show. This was two weeks ago. Now I hear it every night and every morning, and every morning when I wake up to it, I swear to myself that I’m going to go and check it out. But I never do.
I don’t think my neighbours have noticed, although to be honest, I don’t really talk to them. The last time I probably spoke to them was before all this train business started.
Perhaps I should go see what it’s all about.
I decide I’m going to see what’s happening, so I grab my shoes, my keys, and my phone, and head outside. It’s around five in the evening now, and the first train usually comes by at around five thirty-four. It’s an odd time for this supposed train to be here. I wait for the thirty minutes and then I hear it. While squinting, I can see a pair of headlights in the far distance. They seem so far away, yet so close— and they’re so very bright. But there is no train line near my house. The lights are getting closer and closer, and I can hear the whooshing as this “train” gets near.
The horn sounds again. Once. Twice. It sounds a third time, then is followed by the sound of sirens. The train is getting closer now, it’s been coming my way for a while. It finally reaches me, coming to a halt right next to where I stand. My surroundings have dissipated, I’m boarding the train. There are no other passengers on in my carriage, I’m alone, only accompanied by the eerie atmosphere. My body feels lighter, and the train starts to move again. We pass my house, my neighbours houses, then my street, then my workplace— everything is grey and dimly lit.
I don’t know what’s happening, but I’m scared. The train isn’t stopping, it feels like I‘m in an infinitely long tunnel. I’ve called out a few times, hoping for a response, but I am simply greeted with silence. I’m traversing between carriages and there is still no sign of anyone else. Only the numbers of the carriages on top of the doors, going down from where I started: seven… six… five…
On the white walls next to me, scrawled in dark black ink— a date:
10/10/22