Unpolished

Idea 5

So I was going over some of my old school books and came across this short story I wrote on the theme of 'the boy on the train'; this was before 'the girl on the train' came out. My teacher had given us this title and told us to 'roll with it', so this is what I came up with.

The train jolted to a stop. Facing the window, I could only observe the rest of the carriage through the reflection, seeing only the outlines of lifeforms until the train reached a dark tunnel. Then I could see the expressions on their faces, the colours of their scarves and the waves of their hair. 

He caught my eye by the way he stood, as if in a world of his own, unchanging. He was eerily still, not a hair on his head moved as the train changed direction. By his body, one would guess he was still in primary school, but his expressionless eyes bore years of wisdom and pain. 

He met my eyes in the reflection, as if in disbelief that I had noticed him, although it was hard not to. His clothes were that of an outdated school boy's uniform, complete with a tattered leather brief case, with a name tag I couldn't make out. I smiled, out of sheer politeness and his eyes widened, his mouth formed an 'o' in surprise. He was pale, lacking the flush of a healthy child and his almost transparent lashes hiding his washed out grey eyes. 

I turned away from the window with the intent of greeting this detached child, but instead I was met with an empty train carriage with flickering lights. No people busying from work, no children from school, and no boy. The only evidence of anyone's existence but my own was in the reflections in the windows of those who used to be.

Please excuse any grammar or spelling mistakes, like I mentioned, I had written this when I was quite young at school. If I remember correctly, the source of inspiration was a poem by Thomas Hardy (1840-1928), called Midnight On The Great Western.