The Station

Monday

The train was unusually empty today. The rain poured against the the window in such a way that one could suppose it was a desperate cry for help. My stop was only two away now, however each second seemed to cling on for as long as possible before dissappearing into the endless, forgotten trap we call the past. Eventually, the train came to a halt and the screech of the wheels against the track echoed through the carriage. I dragged myself off of my seat and towards the doors, which opened with a simple 'swoosh'. Just as my foot touched the uneven gravel platform and my face caught a tickle of the fresh, cool air, the vibration coming from my left pocket alerted me of a notification. Perhaps a message of some sort? This was a phenomenon in my life because i rarely allowed myself to disconnect from the world around me, yet there were some things I couldn't ignore. There could only have been one reason as to why my phone had just gone off.

'BOSS' the name in bold read. It must have been important to him (whatever was in the message, I mean) because not long after, two more messages revealed themselves with the same four bold letters as the title. I punched in my usual 4 digit pin and began to read what could possibly have been so important this early in the morning.

'Dear Micheal' the first one read. It never seemed to stick in his brain that my name isn't Micheal. In fact my name has no correlation with Micheal whatsoever. It used to bother me, you know, when I first started working there. I even wasted my breath correcting him but after a while I realised it was pointless. I didn't matter to him. I was just a pawn in his game of life, but I didn't mind. At least I got money from it.
My eyes drifted quickly to the next message.

'I don't mean to inconvenience you Monday morning, however it is my duty to inform you that work has now been shut until further notice due to reasons that we cannot disclose at this point in time.'
Slightly strange I thought. Regardless, it was probably just the tiniest bit late now. There I was, like a fool, standing at the station at a ripe five thirty in the morning, for no apparent reason at all.

I didn't bother reading the last message. There really was no point anymore. I placed my phone back into my pocket without even thinking about it and found the nearest bench and just sat, in deep contemplation for a good half hour or so. I had nowhere to go. There where no hotels around, strangely enough, except from the old Crone Bed&Breakfast on the other side of the town, but I didn't have any money on me. It was pointless to spend all my energy walking there if I couldn't even afford to pay for one night. Do you think they would accept acts of service as a form of payment? I doubt it.
I couldn't go home either. I just spent over three hours commuting here in the first place,and the trains were becoming severely delayed due to the storm that was slowly but surely brewing. Even if I did manage to make it home safely, I seemed to have lost my keys, most likely in the gap between the train and the platform when boarding the desolate cart to London.

I had just about given up on the situation and was prepared to freeze to death in the storm when all of a sudden, in the corner of my eye, I witnessed a mysterious figure approaching me. A woman draped in the finest dark silk with only one lock of pitch black hair revealing itself from behind her hood. Her face was so pale you could mistake her for a ghost and her eyes were a sort of reddish-brown colour that made everything inside of you feel numb. Whilst scaring you to bits, she was also elegant in the sense that she seemed to float above the ground as oppose to walking and her cheeks had just a pinch of red hue that shone through her lifeless face. Who is this woman? Could she help me? Is standing here all a big mistake? Should I run?

There's only one way to find out...