Day 312

Everything seemed to be washed in a sickly shade of green today.
From his bathroom light to the entire office.
Everywhere he went the lighting was always that same nauseating shade of green.

The strangeness wasn't just limited to lighting either, the people around him seemed weird too.
It was like they were cardboard cut-outs that managed to move, their joints were all wrong.
Their speech was also off, words were garbled nonsense that only they understood.

After what felt like an eternity of pretending to be okay, the end of the work day approached.
He fled the office in a (hopefully) suitably nonchalant manner, heading straight for the tube.
And the train wouldn't be for another five minutes, it seemed like forever given the day's strangeness.

The platform monitor wouldn't stop staring at him with glazed eyes and a crooked smile.
"It'll come soon." he said, breath cloyingly sweet and far too close for comfort.
The smile he gave in return was in no was convincingly happy.

Before the worker could say anything else the train began to pull into the station, the man rushed to it.
Throwing a hasty have-a-nice-day over his shoulder as he power-walked to the nearest door.
Busier than normal, he thought as he glanced around the cramped carriage.

The lights here were worse than the others, the sickly green now an intense burning acidic shade.
At first he thought it was just tiredness but no amount of eye-rubbing made a difference.
This was only made worse by the occasional snicker of the strange looking passengers.

It was like they had some kind of inside joke and it was all about him.
Their dull wooden eyes stared at him as the train sped along the underground.
It bounced like one of those roller coaster rides, the train was practically jumping every second.

Moving faster and faster and throwing everyone about, the train felt more like a deathtrap.
The poor man was tossed about like a ragdoll into the uncanny people around him.
Muttering apologies left right and centre he the swore the lights were getting darker.

Eventually the announcer screeched out their next stop as garbled as everyone else was that day.
They were either speaking in a different language or it was a new stop he hadn't heard of before.
Either way he vowed to get off then and walk or get a cab home - it would be far safer!

Slowing down as sharply as it accelerated the carriages were almost compressed against each other.
Without looking the man pushed the button for the doors and dashed out, not caring to look collected.
Seems the day would only be getting stranger for him.

The station he'd walked onto looked like the worst kind of acid trip.
Everything was at impossible angles - even the people -  and the colours were hideously mixed.
The man just about managed to stumble into the nearest (possibly male) bathroom.

Locking the stall door in the thankfully empty room, his legs collapsed.
He sat in a crumpled heap, head buried in his arms and praying for it all to be a dream.
Luck was not on his side as a polite cough interrupted his mental begging.

It was coming from inside the toilet (covered in colours that swirled before his eyes).
Gingerly lifting the lid he peered in and screamed, scrambling back against the door.
Inside the porcelain bowl was a severed head, mangled and distorted and somehow alive.

Hey Johnny-boy, could ya at least knock first?