Station 429

the night of discovery

the night of discovery

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This place looks like something out of a horror movie. It's decrepit with its cracked floors and musty smell. It didn't help that the cracks in the wall and the gaping hole, that has over time become known as the entrance, lets the bitter city wind whistle through the empty tunnel that you associate with the eeriness before the ghost makes its long awaited attack on the 'unsuspecting' victims. There aren't any windows for sunlight to sneak through because it is a giant, concrete, dilapidated tunnel just outside of New York City.

This place is a train station, and an old one at that. This train station was one of New York City's finest back in the day. There was always a constant flow of people commuting to work or going to see family and friends, and I loved experiencing it. I loved watching and observing and meeting new people, even if they didn't get to meet me. Just being able to learn people's story in an a short amount of time while still helping them along their journey was enough for me. Feeling the wind rush past me as I did so brought me great pleasure.

Nowadays, it wouldn't be considered a very high-end train station. When it was first built, it was regarded as top notch, but now with all of the grand renovations (high ceilings, tall pillars, sleek floors, and windows) the new stations got, its gray walls and white floors were soon being blatantly ignored. It was painful to watch the place slowly become abandoned. Soon the regulars I saw on a daily basis didn't come around any more, and instead went to the newly built station that was closer to town. It was numbing to not be needed. It was terrifying to see everyone else leave while I was still stuck there staring at the entrance, waiting for someone to come and turn the power back on.

It was months until someone showed up again. By then the place had truly started falling apart, so much so that the boy was able to use the gaping hole mentioned earlier to walk in, rather than using the door. He had to climb over the rubble left over from where the concrete fell, but he seemed determined to get inside. He had a scowl on his face from what I could tell through the darkness of the night. At first he just stood in the middle of the station, on the train tracks, and just looked up toward the ceiling. And then he screamed.

The boy came every night for two weeks before the girl came with tears staining her cheeks. She showed up before the boy, and when he arrived, he sat down across from her on the tracks and let her cry.

The two kept coming. Every night they would come and do whatever they had to do- scream, cry, laugh, talk, sometimes sleep. And soon there was four of them, then five, then six that all needed some form of attention. They came and it was beautiful to feel the presence of people once again.

This went on for a year. The kids were religious about coming here during their high school days. No one else had shown up for another year, until one mysterious girl showed up one October night just before ten.

She was wearing all black clothing, and had black hair to match. She made her way through the entrance, and from that simple task I knew she would be staying. I knew she needed to stay. She stood in the exact place the boy did on his first night and looked around her. She didn't seem phased by the fact she was standing in the middle of an abandoned train station where danger could lurk. If anything, she looked like she had found her peace. After only fifteen minutes, she left.

She did that for a few weeks- came before the rest of them showed up- and only stayed for fifteen minutes. Some days she sat down, and some days she didn't. Sometimes she stuffed her hands in her pockets, and sometimes she left them limp at her sides. I remember wishing I could tell her to wait a little longer, until one of them showed up. Luckily enough, she lost track of time one night and stayed longer than normal- just long enough for the boy to catch her.