"Wh...why not?" I asked scared. He looked concerned at me.
"You didn't fall asleep earlier. That's isn't why you missed your train."
He stopped talking and looked concerned. Again, but something in me is telling me that he isn't a murderer.
"You had a brain aneurysm," he said and laid his hand on my shoulder. What did he just said? I had a brain aneurism and that's why I missed my train.
"What?" I quietly said. It was all I could bring out. "I'm afraid so. And it's going to be fatal."
I let out a sigh. I wasn't gonna be killed by some serie murderer. I didn't totally understand what he said, but I did know I wasn't gonna be killed by someone.
The ticket collector continued his story. "You're on the journey that takes you to the other side."
Wait, So I am gonna die?! This can't be true. I've been texting my mom this whole time.
So I said: "But I've been texting with my mom all this time! How can that be?"
"Sometimes, when it takes a while for people to pass...," he passes his sentence, "They are able to communicate with the person closest to them."
I felt tears coming up. This just can't be true.
YOU ARE READING
The last stop
Short StoryPaint this; you're stuck on a train. A crazy train. Your mother doesn't believe you and thinks you smoked weed or something. There is nobody else on the train except for the ticket collector who disappeared. The speed is going faster and faster, y...
