Last train home

John was just in time to catch the last tube home having had to stop back late at work, again. It was becoming a real drag not being home to put his kids to bed, or enjoy a family meal and hear about their day at school. His wife too was normally asleep on the sofa awaiting his return. As he sat and looked around at the almost empty carriage, the thought of sleep seemed almost too appealing. With the gentle motion of the train, he found himself drifting off.

As the train pulled into the next station, he woke to find himself alone except for an elderly man sat opposite him. He was wearing an old duster coat and cowboy hat, as if he’d just walked of the set of some western. John shrugged it off, after all this was London. Anything is possible here. With several stops still remaining until his, he allowed his eyelids to once more become heavy and close, however just as the final slither of sight vanished, he was convinced the old man’s eyes flashed a blood red.

Before John’s mind had even the slightest chance to compute what he thought he’d seen, a searing pain wracked across his face. His eyes flashed open to see the old man upon him biting huge chunks of flesh from his cheek as blood smeared across his frenzied face. In the ensuing struggle another bite, this time fatal, took a chunk from John’s throat. As the light from the train slowly dimmed with this eyes becoming heavy, his thoughts turned to his children tucked up in bed, his wife waiting upon his return, a return that would never happen.

Copyright: authorchrisbrown

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