SCRIBBLING WREN
Mornington Crescent
Two platforms lured them away, promising an escape from the crush of bodies on the Northern Line down just sixty six steps. Phones had stopped working so no one knew the first explosion had been reported at Euston.
They’d felt it as it rocked the station, six panic attacks started Northbound, Southbound someone started to scream. Later the smell of charred flesh would creep down the tunnel.
Some had jumped. The precipice of the platform edge providing temporary relief then a respite on the train tracks until the eight twenty arrived on time for the first time in a week.
RICHARD
Horror on the subway
We heard it, long before, it came into view: A discordant, metallic grating that set one’s teeth on edge, echoing eerily through the subway tunnels and corridors.
As we drew closer, the sound of tortured human voices could be discerned amongst the sounds of destruction – wails and stomach-churning moans and groaning. The occasional shrieking scream pierced the air.
Grimly we continued forward, fearful of what lay ahead, but steely in our resolve, as we turned towards the platform, the full horror assailed us.
A busker quartet: Violin, tambourine, and three dreadful voices, massacring Candle in the Wind.
Truly horrifying!
TOM
Never Return
It has been nearly three quarters of a century, but his presents is still felt. From Kendall Station to Scallay Square. The ghostly face behind the window. Same say they can just hear his moans. Others the icy touch of his hand as he sails past the platform. All agree the presents of the etherical sandwich float in the train chills the bone, a horror in the subway. The man who never returned is not alone. That car is fill with the souls of every MTA administrator. They will ride forever beneath the streets of Boston, and never return.
LIZZIE
“Horror on The Subway” was the title of her latest book. A massive success. The aliens, assisting the newest rotation of settlers, were huge fans. When they realized she was visiting the base, they spent days putting out arrows. We laughed because the base was pretty easy to find and the arrow system was simply chaotic. No one saw it coming. Her ship did some odd twists and turns till it just vanished. Those arrows weren’t showing the way. They seized the controls! “Where is she?!” The aliens whistled distractedly, a skill they had recently picked up from us humans.
TURA
Horror on the subway
———
In 1976, the Swiss artist H. R. Giger visited London, desiring to explore the disused Underground stations. His guide was one Henry Cottonwood, a staff member who had worked at some of them. Cottonwood found Giger disturbing, but with good grace showed him around Down Street, Trafalgar, and others. But at British Museum, something happened of which he would never speak. He retired early and never again ventured below ground.
Three years later, the film “Alien” appeared, famously designed by Giger. On seeing an advertising poster, Cottonwood yelled, “They’ve escaped!”, running headlong into the traffic. He was fatally run over.
SERENDIPIDY
Take my advice and never take the last train.
I’m not trying to frighten you and I’m only advising you for your own safety, I promise.
It’s not because you’re likely to run into any gang members, muggers or druggies: You won’t find any of those stupid enough to catch the last train, no matter how desperate they might be… They know better.
It’s not tired drivers, sacrificing safety for speed, ignoring red lights in their haste to end their shift.
No, never take the last train, because that’s the train that I take.
And I prefer to travel alone!
NORVAL JOE
Billbert walked with Sabrina out of the movie theater.
Sabrina smiled at him. “Thanks for inviting me to a movie. I think this was my very first date.”
Billbert swallowed hard, knowing her grandmother probably followed close behind. “Yeah. This was fun, but I expected the movie to be about a serin gas attack, or maybe a mass shooting.”
Sabrina nodded. “Yeah. But still, it was really freaky when the passenger cars began to fill up with beanie babies. I mean, where were they coming from?”
Billbert agreed. “Really. I was worried. I’m just glad they eventually saved the cat.”
PLANET Z
On major holidays, the transit authority waives fares for the trains.
It’s great for all the people wanting to go Downtown for the lights and store window watching and all, but it’s also great for people living on the streets looking for a place to stay warm.
At every train and bus station, the cops come in and clear those people off, sometimes sending them to a shelter, other times just tossing them out on the street again, where they make their way back on eventually.
And then there’s the dead ones. They’re fed to the beast under track twelve.