Ghost Train

It was one of those late summer nights that seem to go on forever, when waiting for a train is no hardship at all. Having spent an enjoyable evening with friends I was now on my way home, waiting for the train with the rest of the night owls frequenting this part of town. Only twenty minutes to wait, not so long. I sat down on one of those holy metal benches that only inhabit the world of train stations. I sat there with my thoughts, watching the minutes go by, the silence only broken by the rush of express trains going through on their way to some far distant place. Finally I could hear the familiar sound of screeching wheels and chugging engine as the train pulled up to the platform.

It was one of the older types of trains, without the luxury of electric doors or air conditioning. Not that it mattered to me. In fact, I had a certain fondness for these types of trains, for they had been such reliable servants in the times when trains were so unreliable. Without them I would have been stranded in many a dark place without a way home. I boarded the train, slamming the door behind me and taking my place on a long bench seat with raised sides. I placed my bag in the overhead compartment and sat back to relax on the journey ahead. I closed my eyes for a brief minute and waited for the journey to start. It wasn’t to be a long journey, for it only took some thirty minutes to get back home. But without this last train as my saviour I would have to trudge many miles, for I had no money to get a cab. I waited for the inevitable sound of the platform attendant blowing his whistle. But it did not come.

 I was getting slightly worried. It should have set off by now. I stood up and moved to look out of the window. I could see no attendant. That was odd, I thought, because there was one there about five minutes ago. I wasn’t too worried by this, however, because often the guard of the train will give the all clear instead. I peered further out of the window and looked for the guard leaning out of his special door. But he was not to be seen either. Now I was a bit worried. I looked at the electronic board for news of any delay. There was nothing. Not just devoid of any news of a delay, but the board was off. I was mystified. Why hadn’t the train set off and why was no one about? I looked at my watch. It was late, very late. The train should have left hours ago. But I only just got on it? To my horror I realised what had happened. I had closed my eyes for a minute on the train. But it was not a minute. It was much, much longer. But why had the train not left the station even if I had fallen asleep? I was confused, and had the horrible realisation that I stranded on the dark station far from home. But that was not the worry for me. The worry was why, at so late an hour as this, was the train still here with its lights on? I was not alone.

© David Friesen 2004