scary-esque

© “Packed Seats” by H. Walker

The miles made sense to her once she got through the first 25. By mile 30, she kept her head turned to the window of the seat she shared only with all the thoughts about what would be there at the end and all that she meant to grab a hold of from where she left.

She didn’t say much to me, but from three rows away, I could hear her talking to herself. Telling herself things that she didn’t want to forget: where the car was parked at the station, dropping off clothes donations at the collection box along her route home, praying that the pot she’d left on the stovetop hadn’t turned into a science project yet…

”I take this scheduled train often,” she said from three rows away.

I only nodded; didn’t bother to speak further because I didn’t know what I would learn of her in the process. Her conversation with herself continued without my acknowledgment, and as I got immersed in my book, the sobbing started. Low then guttural, wracking sobs that seemed to match the trains speed. I couldn’t do anything but sleep.

A few hours later, the train was still moving and when I looked down the aisle to where I could see the top of her head, I found that she was looking back at me. She smiled a hard smile, tilted her head, and said, “I can give you a ride when we get to wherever this train is going, but you’ll have to help me push the car to get it moving for real.”

I leaned back in my seat and wasn’t afraid at all; I saw her eyes. Saw them looking past me. A laugh threatened to come but I held it. Over the seats I saw her rise up, leave her row, and walk back towards where I was. The panic started then, because I saw her eyes again. Saw them looking past me, and as she passed me, she said, “I’m coming, don’t yell so loud!”

There was no one back there; the train car  was only transporting a total of five of us, and I was in that number. The other three people were sitting past where she was, and as I was adding the numbers, I heard her footfalls increase in speed, then the scream started and followed her as she took off through our train car to the next and you could still hear that scream trailing off with her…

When I stood to look in the direction she ran then behind me where the others were also standing up or leaning over the armrest of the aisle seat, we all had the same confused expression.

The remaining three hours of my train ride she never came back. She left her belongings in her seat. Even her cellphone was still plugged up to the charger and on the seat next to her purse.

Her eyes, though, stayed with me the rest of the way… and I didn’t close my eyes the whole time…

– H. Walker 5-19-2020