It had been sighted all across the midlands, leaving behind it a trail of corpses and a dark cloud of coal smoke that lingered for weeks afterwards. From the outside it was utterly normal at a glance, aside from the lack of name or number to lend it to a particular company or area. The interior, however was another matter entirely.
You couldn't tell from the outside, the windows were covered by a sticker of a normal carriage, a decoy that continued to fool whomever mistook the train for their intended one as it pulled innocently into stations at random. As the unsuspecting people stepped inside they would see blindingly bright lights and what appeared to be regular chairs on unusual metal flooring. When the train set off the lights would begin to flicker, everything about the carriages would begin to flicker and gradually fade to a grim reality.
Where brightly coloured seats should be were instead small cages, stuffed to the brim with something pale and writhing, its bulky frame squished in so tightly it was impossible to tell what it actually was. The pale metal flooring around them was stained red, freshly spilled red that glistened in the now feeble lighting.
At this point most people would be trying to find the emergency brakes and staying clear of whatever they'd been sitting on. Not everyone would make it that far though, some people have the strange tendency to fall asleep as soon as they're on a train being lulled by its rocking and whirring. Their bodies are found closest to their station, large bite marks all over their bodies but bearing a peaceful sleeping expression. The venom is merciful enough to paralyse as it begins to break the body down. Sometimes all that's left of them is their shoes.
The train spits out the dead like grape seeds, all it wants is their memories and the strongest ones are formed from the strongest emotions. It can't make people fall in love or feel joy as they naturally would so it adapts and feeds from whatever it can get easiest - fear. It warps and distorts reality itself to take what it needs, throwing the rest away like an unwanted sweet wrapper.
Nobody can pinpoint where it began, after all traintrack suicides happen around 300 times per year, what's a few extra on the side? Though it isn't known where it came from, its path is painfully clear - the channel tunnel. It brings a harsh choice for the government, one that could risk millions of lives either way. Do they block the tracks, dismantle them and keep the train stranded in England or do they let it go abroad, break the way back and pray no more turn up?
You couldn't tell from the outside, the windows were covered by a sticker of a normal carriage, a decoy that continued to fool whomever mistook the train for their intended one as it pulled innocently into stations at random. As the unsuspecting people stepped inside they would see blindingly bright lights and what appeared to be regular chairs on unusual metal flooring. When the train set off the lights would begin to flicker, everything about the carriages would begin to flicker and gradually fade to a grim reality.
Where brightly coloured seats should be were instead small cages, stuffed to the brim with something pale and writhing, its bulky frame squished in so tightly it was impossible to tell what it actually was. The pale metal flooring around them was stained red, freshly spilled red that glistened in the now feeble lighting.
At this point most people would be trying to find the emergency brakes and staying clear of whatever they'd been sitting on. Not everyone would make it that far though, some people have the strange tendency to fall asleep as soon as they're on a train being lulled by its rocking and whirring. Their bodies are found closest to their station, large bite marks all over their bodies but bearing a peaceful sleeping expression. The venom is merciful enough to paralyse as it begins to break the body down. Sometimes all that's left of them is their shoes.
The train spits out the dead like grape seeds, all it wants is their memories and the strongest ones are formed from the strongest emotions. It can't make people fall in love or feel joy as they naturally would so it adapts and feeds from whatever it can get easiest - fear. It warps and distorts reality itself to take what it needs, throwing the rest away like an unwanted sweet wrapper.
Nobody can pinpoint where it began, after all traintrack suicides happen around 300 times per year, what's a few extra on the side? Though it isn't known where it came from, its path is painfully clear - the channel tunnel. It brings a harsh choice for the government, one that could risk millions of lives either way. Do they block the tracks, dismantle them and keep the train stranded in England or do they let it go abroad, break the way back and pray no more turn up?
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