13 min read

The Last Train Home

straydog1980 Follow
S Author since 2013 • 4 Stories • 0 Followers

4.7 3 31.3K 34

Do you ever watch other people in the

subway? It’s so strange to have to ignore
someone who’s right up there in your face. A
can of sardines springs to mind, except
passengers aren’t joined by a bond of thick
oil or brine. Instead, they’re stewing in a
miasma of sweat, cologne and annoyance.
Everybody absorbed in their own little worlds,
warm little cocoons. There, whizzing through
the bowels of the city at a brisk clip, you’ll
find people reading books, newspapers.
Maybe on a Playstation Portable. Maybe on a
smartphone.

Except me. I’ll always be looking through the

thick glass windows at the flickering
blackness just beyond. Sometimes, late at
night, I hope I’ll get on the same train once
more, so I can see it all again.

It had been one of those weeks. Actually, it

had been one of those months, where the
targets piled up like so much dirty laundry.
The boss was on my case. Miserable, balding
fart with his mortgage and his European
sports car, riding us all for another bullshit
project for some client across the country.
The days and nights lost their meaning. In at
work early to beat the crowd. Heading home
without ever seeing the light of the sun.
Caffeine was my only friend. The last thing on
the agenda for the work day was the mad
sprint for the last train home because the
miserable bastard wouldn’t even sign off on
the late night taxi claims. It showed up on the
work life balance indicators, he’d said.

It had been another mindless day of

numbers, presentation slides and text. To be
frank, I didn’t even know if the version of the
meaningless report I was working on was the
fifth or the fiftieth, nor could I have told you
the difference between the two. The office
had already emptied out an hour before, my
last coworkers giving me a commiserating pat
on the back as they headed off. I cursed as I
stuffed my laptop and swept some papers
into my bag. I was going to miss the train. The
stale warmth of the building gave way to the
bitter cold as I hit the streets running.

The station was deserted. Not unthinkable at

this time of the night, but eerie all the same.
There’s something about a hollow space
meant for crowds. I’m not talking about
muggers or anything like that. There is an air
of the forbidden about these empty spaces.
That’s how that night started out. Expectant.
Waiting for something to happen.

Not that I cared at the time. The escalators

were out for the night. I was wheezing hard by
the time I got to the bottom, that old college
fitness long drowned under an ocean of
booze, buried under a mountain of fast food. I
thought the last train had already left,
resigning myself to a long wait for an
expensive taxi ride back. I was about to leave
when a train pulled up with the familiar
scream of metal on metal. Graffiti adorned
the grey skin of the train, tribal tattoos for the
modern locomotive. The doors hissed, warm
air belched from the cabin. I got in.

The train, strangely, was full. Not packed, but

it was crowded. I found myself a seat in
between a old man in a large brown overcoat
and young lady that wearing a dark formal
dress, a large flower pinned to her breast, her
face a mask of mascara and eyeshadow,
inexpertly applied. Across from me sat a pair
of army guys in fatigues, their scalps shining
pink under their tight buzz cuts. And many
more besides. It was a puzzling thing, to have
a cabin so full late at night, and with such a
motley crew of inhabitants.

With a shudder, the train pulled out from the

station.

I settled back contentedly into my seat. The

network connection in the tunnels was never
dependable. I had to find another way to
entertain myself on the ride home.

The noise from the screech of the rails and

the rush of air outside seemed muted.
Instead, the cabin was filled with a soft
susurrus, the hushed tones of a crowd in a
theatre, expectant but subdued. The cabin
felt colder than it should have been. Was the
heating out again? It couldn’t be. I was certain
that the cabin was warmer than the platform
a second ago, yet now, it felt like I was back
outside in the howling cold. I tugged my
jacket a little tighter. I looked at the hodge
podge of strange individuals in the cabin.
Everybody seemed out of place. Why would
there be a gaggle of high school kids,
obviously inebriated, this late at night? Or the
waifish girl that was wearing what seemed to
be a school uniform. I shifted uncomfortably
on the sculpted plastic seat. Not a single
mobile phone or any other electronic device
in sight, a strange sight in this day and age. I
looked up at the row of LED lights that
indicated the train’s progress along my route.
4 more stops.

I was still staring at the display when the train

whizzed by the next station. It didn’t stop.
Didn’t even slow down. Just kept going right.
The lights and pillars of the station streamed
by in a blur. I jerked upright in my seat, my
eyes widening. What kind of train had I gotten
on? The rest of the crowd was unfazed by this
development. If anything, the low buzz of
whispers got even louder as the train
progressed.

We were still hurtling through the dark tunnel,

the overhead lights flickering on and off, when
the little girl in the school uniform affixed me
stared at me, wide-eyed. She crept over to
the group of high schoolers and tugged at the
sleeve of one of the young men. He must
have been a basketball player, towering over
his companions. He nearly had to bend
double to bring his ear down to the little girls
face. Her jaw worked up and down as she
whispered something to him urgently. I heard
nothing over the sound of the train. He
blinked and took a step back when he looked
back in my direction, as though seeing me for
the first time. His handsome face twisted
strangely. What was it? Anger? No, he looked
like he wanted something. He looked hungry.
His compatriots noticed the break in the
conversation and directed their gazes to the
focus of his attention. To me. The same
gamut of emotions cycled through their
faces. Shock. And then a sharpening, a
hardening of their features. They were hungry
too. The giant took a step forward, perhaps
meaning some harm for some slight on his
person that I must have committed. One of
the high school girls held him back.

The feeling spread through the cabin, like a

spark arcing from person to person. The two
uniformed men, looking up and tightening
their jaws. The old man next to me, perking up
and scooting down another seat so that he
could look at me without straining his neck.
Outside, a blur of lights told me that another
station had shot by. 3 more stops.

I shrank back in my seat.The tendons

straining at the surface of my hands as I
clutched at my bag protectively, as though
that stupid gesture, grabbing on to my work,
the focus of my life, would ground me and
take me from this nightmare. It didn’t. I felt
the weight of their eyes on me, like insects
crawling over my skin. Something was wrong.
So clearly wrong. This strange crowd, so
different, yet each of them was wearing that
naked need on their faces.

“Don’t mind them, they’re just jealous of you.”

The young lady by my side. Her voice was
soft, mellifluous. “Don’t stare back and don’t
talk to them.”

I turned to look at my erstwhile companion.

“What are they jealous of? I just wanted to
catch the last train home.”

“It’s the last train home for all of us, too.” She
smiled. She was very pale. Very beautiful. “But
not all of them want to be here. And looking
at you, going home tonight, makes them so
very unhappy.”

“Where’d they all come from? Was there a

convention? A meeting?” I cast my eyes
around the cabin again, but was stopped
halfway by her strong fingers on my chin. Her
fingers were icy cold. She turned my head
around to face her.

“Everywhere. All around. Most of them didn’t

want to be here. Except me, maybe. I’d had
enough of where I was. I miss my parents. I
haven’t seen them in such a long time. It took
awhile, for me to gather enough courage to go
look for them.” She paused, suddenly pensive
at what she’d said. “You’re not meant to be
here, you know. You’re on the wrong train. This
isn’t your ride.” Outside the window, another
station went by. My eyes flicked back to the
board with all the little lights. 2 stops to
home.

The whispering in the cabin had started up

again. Louder than before, but still muffled by
the sounds of the rails and the rushing air
outside. They were talking about me. The
atmosphere grew oppressive. The attention
of the crowd felt like a rock on my chest. A
vice. My breathing grew laboured. Each
inhalation a struggle. I wheezed.

My companion sensed my discomfort. “I wish

I could help,” she said, sadly. “It’ll stop when
we get to the end of the line, I suppose.” Her
eyes lit up at the thought. She turned around
and scooted up onto the seat, her knees on
the hard plastic, palms on the cold glass.
Even with her face pressed up against the
glass, there wasn’t a trace of fog on the
window left by her breath. If she was even
breathing at all. “Here, why don’t you take this,
I won’t need it where I’m going.” She fumbled
at her dress, detached the white flower and
pressed it into my hands. The sweet smell of
the lily took my attention away from the pain
in my chest.

“We’re here!” She was quivering with

excitement as the train began to slow. I
looked up at the board overhead. All the
lights on the map had gone out. Where were
we?

She cupped my chin in her hands. It was only

then, with her arms so close to my face, that I
saw the network of fine white lines that criss
crossed her forearms. She caught the flick of
my eyes towards her arms. She shrugged,
sheepish. “Practice makes perfect,” she said.
She frowned, suddenly serious again. “This
stop is for the rest of us. You can’t join us. You
have to stay here.” She leaned forward
quickly and gave me a kiss on my cheek. Her
cold lips burned like an ice cube.

The people in the cabin quickly turned their

attention to the approaching platform. I felt
the weight on my chest ease. The whispering
grew to a crescendo as they pointed and
chattered excitedly. The platform drew close.
And what a sight it was. I didn’t recognize the
tiles or the posters. I must have taken this
train a thousand times. I could have closed
my eyes and named every station in order
and the time between stations if I wanted to,
and yet I was lost. There was nothing on the
platform that helped in any way. No signs. No
directions. What the platform had was
people, a milling sea of heads and faces, all
expectant, all eagerly waiting.

When the door opened, it let in the roar of

the crowd outside. Shouts, shrieks and yells.
And tears, so many tears. The passengers
burst out of the train, throwing themselves
into the waiting sea of people. I saw one of
the army boys embracing an older gentleman,
also dressed in military fatigues. None of that
new aged stuff that pixelated camouflage.
This was old school, with big green and brown
blotches. The resemblance between the two
was clear. They parted, the younger man
introducing his father to his compatriot. The
older man hugged him as tightly as he had
hugged his own son earlier.

The group of teenagers whoop and leapt as

they pushed through the crowd, seeking
some new adventure for the night. I caught a
last glimpse of the blond locks of the
basketball player as they vanished around a
corner.

The old man that was sitting by me had found

an elegant looking lady in her thirties, her light
sun dress looked out of place for the biting
cold of winter. Or had I mistaken the man for
someone else? I looked again and it wasn’t
the old man any more, but a young couple
laughing in the prime of their lives. No, it was
the same coat and his features, lined with a
jealous greed scant moments ago, were now
lit with a fierce joy.

Just as the train doors hissed shut, I saw the

girl that sat next to me on the train. She was
in tears with her arms around a well dressed
couple. She waved at me as the train pulled
out of the station. I waved back.

My legs shook as I got off the train at my

stop. The platform was reassuringly deserted.
I watched as the train screeched into the
distant darkness of the tunnel. I gingerly
touched the numb spot on my cheek where
the girl had kissed me. My fingers came away
wet. I didn’t even remember the tears falling.

My nose was suddenly assaulted by a rich,

thick greenhouse scent. Decaying plant
matter. I fished out the lily from my coat
pocket, where the strange girl had left it. The
pristine white petals were dry to the point of
crumbling and speckled black with rot. I let it
fall from my fingers and watched it bounce on
the station floor. It sat there, like an unmelting
snow flake on the pocked grey concrete. I
stared at it for a long time before I began the
long trek home.


4.7 out of 5 with 351 ratings

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34 COMMENTS

wild_wraith  1 month ago 

great
0

K
Kent_Allard  6 months ago 

Loved it. Absolutely loved it. No notes.

0

StarKaKnight  6 years ago 

It was a juicy pasta.

2

Allie  6 years ago 

Wow. This is the best story I’ve ever read. Well

written and a beautiful ending. I loved it!
1

UnknownDeviant  6 years ago 

This is just too melancholic. :'(

0

AstityaRoy  6 years ago 

The wow factor of this pasta was huge I guess this

was a cheese macaroni pasta my favorite
0

Tag  7 years ago 

I was looking for a memorable creepypasta I had

already read…it took me like four to five paragraphs
to realize this wasn’t it. Still good – quite good
even. Hence the confusion, I suppose.
(the other one is called The Strangers, and also
features a train/subway)
0

J
Justamom  7 years ago 

Wonderful story. I love the words used, not the

typical every day basic vocabulary. The plot is
great. Very alluring. There were a few minor
mistakes in the writing, but other than that it was
really good. Bravo.
0

L
Luciferstyrannt  8 years ago 

This story is just amazing. So in depth and the idea

of the train is just…wow. I wonder how he was able
to get on the train if everyone else was dead. A new
favorite Creepypasta.
0

The2ndCobra  8 years ago 

this is like the phantom train in final fantasy 6 (3 in

the US) lol
1