I stepped onto the deserted train as a lone passenger stepped off, a tall man in a trenchcoat.
Immediately the train lurched into motion and I nearly lost my balance. Hurriedly I sat down, then realized in my haste I’d inadvertently sat directly across from the only other passenger aboard.
No matter, my ride was short. But as the silver vessel carried us through the twisting tunnels of the underground I began to feel uneasy. The man was staring.
I shifted uncomfortably, and played with the cuffs of my coat. I looked up again. Still staring. I cleared my throat. But he did not look away.
This was getting awkward. Why? Why in this giant empty train did I have to sit down across from one of the creepy ones?
I stole a glance up from my lap again. Still the awful stare, eyes fixated straight ahead on me.
This was unbearable, I had to leave. Still five stops away from mine, I hurried off at the next, praying to God he wouldn’t follow. Thank God he didn’t.
The train pulled away and I sighed a breath of relief on the platform; never again. If I was going to come home from the city this late, from now on I’d take a cab. I didn’t want to get assaulted or murdered by some sicko.
The next morning I was horrified to find the man’s face on the front page of the newspaper. But my horror was even greater when I finally realized why he’d be staring. The headline screamed the truth at me from the page:
SERIAL KILLINGS CONTINUE, ANOTHER FOUND DEAD ON TRAIN