Day 415

Ignore the train that comes into South Station at exactly 8:37AM.
It isn't meant to be there and the people coming and going from it aren't real.
The station staff have been trained to not see it, to serve the passengers without fear.
Well, without showing their fear.

You see the people who board that train find it difficult to pass as human.
Have you ever seen someone who didn't look right, like someone wearing a suit
instead of natural human flesh, like they only knew the idea of human.
The trick is to not look them in the eyes, those gaping, unseeing eyes.

There have been cases of people who have mistakenly gotten onto the train.
They are seen the next day curled up on the unused tracks clutching newspapers
dating back two hundred years, their faces gaunt and weary.
Every time they say the same thing, they were gone for a very long time.

They would speak about the people they saw, the impossible people.
The people who stood fifty feet tall, skin made of glass, blood flowing grey.
Soon after the accidental passengers would be found dead.
Autopsies would show their stomach empty of everything aside from a ticket.

The destination was always the same and apparently didn't exist anywhere on Earth.
At least nowhere that anyone could find, though the 8:37 passengers all went there.
The police team who went aboard the train to investigate the string of deaths came
back as changed people, declaring the law to be blasphemous.

Since their following demise the train murder cases have been closed for good.
The train is still on time, always on time and always busy.
Its passengers only somewhat human from a distance.
Its destination nowhere on this world.