The Mystery Express


I walk into the station, expecting that my train wouldn’t be due for another ten minutes.  A train sits at the platform.  Normally, a train turns up around this time, but terminates here.  I see people boarding, and think “those fools, they’ll realise soon enough”.  But they stay seated.  More people board.  Something is wrong.  There’s a disturbance in the force.   No time to turn back and check the board, this bitch might take off at any second.  More people rush by me to get on.  I throw caution to the wind and decide to get on and check what the display says.  I join the crazed bastards and we all climb on-board.  The doors slide shut.  We are trapped, united in peril.  The display starts to scroll, my eyes widen.  It reads “this train is for…”
It’s dead.  The display is busted, right at the point of salvation.  I wait for re-activation, it stares back at me blankly.  Nothing.  This is a set-up.  I consider that this may be a hit.  I feel like Nino Brown.  There’s only one option.  Crazed and desperate, I walk up the carriage and ask a woman if this is the Helensburgh train.  She says it is.  I collapse exhausted but relieved.  I head home to sleep the sleep of the just.




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