Wellington Street

In which we take a stroll down a very strange lane.


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Train Station "Ticket Taker"

“The train car slowly makes it way along the tracks, the walls of the tunnel passing by the broken windows one brick at a time. The air that seeps in is foul, like sewage. I look down at the seat, white interior breaking through the green vinyl. I want to sleep. I want desperately to sleep. But I can't. Because everyone else went to sleep and now they are gone. Just scattered, crumpled newspapers and magazines along the ground, small splotches of blood where bodies should be.

Bodies...Why did I get rid of the bodies? I don't remember getting rid of them. Were they just sleeping?

The train horn cuts through the tunnel. It is stifled, like it is running on dying batteries. The air is thick, and I can't help to notice that through the doors I can see into the other car. And another. And another. The cars have no end. I am tired. I consider going into the other cars but I will stay put. The ticket taker will come along soon. I just pray the light doesn't burn out. I can't imagine how much worse it would be in the dark.

My eyes drift around the car to the baggage wrack above the central walkway. Old, worn cases sit in a scattered arrangement, dust filtering down from them every time the train hits a turn. I let my focus dull as I watch the dust filter through the light and to the ground. I think I hear murmuring coming from another car, but that couldn't be the case. No one is here but me. I stand up to stretch my legs, and I notice that one of the handbags is leaking.

I go over and reach around the edge of net, dragging the handbag through the space between. It catches temporarily, but a few jiggles and it falls loose. I set it down and open it up, using a piece of newspaper to look inside. The inside is sticky, and I decide to remove some items. A wallet. A compact mirror. I go to draw out a long brush when something inside the handbag stirs. I fall back, as nothing more occurs. Then out from inside of the handbag comes the sound of something speaking.

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