I start investigating the room, just scanning everything with my eyes is not enough.
There are twelve beds in total, six on one side, six on the other. All with the same old-fashioned frames, mattresses and blankets that all smell a bit musty.
I check all the beds, under and above. I don't know how it could help me, but perhaps it could give me a clue on how to escape this beyond insane situation.
I look through the bed stands, all of them are made of wood.
I open the drawers looking for something... well anything really.
Most of them have nothing inside, others have old medicine and ancient-looking needles.
Then finally I open one on the left side of the room, with a turned over piece of paper in it.
There is nothing else inside.
Curiously I take out the piece and notice immediately that the texture is different from the usual paper... isn't this... photo paper?
As I turn it around and as my mind registers what it is, I can't contain my own shock, dropping the object.
Slowly it falls, taking its sweet time to get down, going left right front back, almost in a few circles before finally gently tapping the floor and finally lying completely still.
Quickly I take another, closer look.
It's me in the picture.
Me and my mom.
But that isn't all, it's almost as if it is two pictures stuck together.
Most of the picture is in color, only I'm in black and white.
With my index finger I try to see if I can scrape myself off of it, to see what's underneath, but it doesn't work.
Suddenly I hear something move... It's one of the curtains.
An intense fear strikes me, I don't want to turn around.
Another loud noise makes me jump, it's the sound of a chair being moved.
Finally I turn around and see a curtain closed completely around a bed, a light is on behind it showing me a couple of human silhouettes sitting behind it.
I was so certain that I was the only person in the room...
They seem to be talking about something.
Something they don't want me to hear.
Quietly I move closer to hear what they are talking about.
"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but your son... he is not going to make it." The voice sounds familiar.
Isn't that the doctor's voice?
The one who treated me?
"Oh, god!" I can hear the voice of my mother as she bursts into tears.
I know it isn't them, but why does this feel so much like déjà vu?
YOU ARE READING
Last Night Locomotive
TerrorThere's a train that travels between the world of the living and the world of the dead. Normally the people picked up by this train are deceased, but sometimes, when someone is so deeply in need of help or has a yearning so big, the train's staff w...
