I'm
a commuter. I start my day earlier than my fellow students and come
home later than them. On Tuesdays lectures last till sunset – at
least during winter season.
Being
a commuter you naturally gather a bunch of experiences with public
transport: From major delays to cancellations and even unfriendly
conductors. You will meet many things that may upset you after a hard
day of work or uni.
Nonetheless
this is not supposed to be a letter of complaint but rather a tale of
an odd encounter. To this day I can't explain what happened. I'm
thinking about it on a daily basis, trying to find something to
finally soothe my mind.
It's
strange when you suddenly fall out of your routine and experience
something that shouldn't exist.
It
happened on the very weekday that ends at 8 pm. I sat in university
and looked outside the large windows since the howling of a winter
storm wouldn't stop bringing layers of glittering snow on the
pavement. I began to worry: There was only one train I could catch to
carry me home. Said vehicle departs at 8:15 pm – my usual time
walking to the station takes about 10 minutes. But now that chaos and
cold reigned the streets, I knew that I had to hurry.
Without
saying goodbye to my fellow students I rushed out of the auditorium
the moment my prof closed his mouth. Every minute was important.
On
my way over the campus I nearly rammed a student and when I set foot
outside I was greeted by winter itself, throwing snow, ice and sleet
in my face.
Biting
cold devoured my body heat as I cleaved a path through the fresh
powder snow. Sprinting like a mad woman I felt my shoes giving in and
my socks slowly getting wet. Irregular footprints showed how
efficiently the weather slowed me down. I felt my breath becoming
colder.
By
then I had an uneasy sense of being late. And I was right: A short
look at my watch revealed that I had no time left. So I ran faster,
slipped on ice that was as smooth as glass and got up again.
Even
though I jumped up the stairs to the platform I was too late.
The
conductor's whistle shrilled through the night, the doors shut with a
bang and the engines started moving the train. I let out a loud
''SHIT!'' and sat down on a bench nearby.
Catching
my breath again I looked around. I was completly alone. There was no
soul to see. Not a single living being. Only the stinging wind and
me.
My
tired eyes caught sight of the scoreboard. The next train was
schedulded in 50 minutes – and it wouldn't even drive to my town.
A
sigh escaped my coolish lips when I was reaching for my mobile phone.
I pondered who to call to give me a lift: My parents, friends or
maybe my sister? I didn't actually decide since two headlamps caught
my attention. They were coming from something that moved towards me
on the same tracks I just missed my last ticket home.
It
was a bright light from afar, making the snow flakes shimmer in the
darkness. Slowly, as if it was in no hurry, it came nearer, demasking
it's mysterious origin: I made out a train cab and glimpsed a shadowy
figure, probably operating the vehicle.
Then
the whole train arrived at the station and stopped in front of me.
I
checked the scoreboard again, thinking there might have been a sudden
change. 45 minutes until the next train. Once again I looked around
to see if there were any other passengers waiting. Still, it couldn't
be helped: I was alone.
With
their usual sound the doors opened. I waited for people to exit the
train but nobody got out. In fact I couldn't even see one person
inside. The train's lights were on but there was no trace of
potential passengers.
Confused
I decided to head to the driver's cab. I was hesitant to knock the
outside doors at first but to my surprise no one answered. So I
looked through the windows and learned that it was just as empty as
the rest of the train. ''The driver must have left into one of the
passenger cars,'' I mumbled to myself, trying to calm me down a
little bit.
Unfortunately
my nervousness only increased when I couldn't find him anywhere. To
be honest I didn't enter the train. It obviously creeped me out a
lot. Therefore there was no way he could have left the train without
me noticing it.
My
body started shaking. I didn't know whether it was caused by the
bitter, cold night or the fact that an abandoned, fully lit train
opened it's doors for me at a lonely station.
My
conclusion was that I should get home as soon as possible. For some
reason I couldn't get my eyes off the strange train. I went back to
the bench and got out my phone. The moment I heard the first dial
tone I nearly dropped my backpack: The doors closed again. The train
moved. And on top of it: The lights went out. Even the headlamps
disappeared along with the train into the night's body.
