The water was so dark that the windows showed our terrified expressions clear as mirrors while the train carried on as if the bridge hadn't collapsed and sent us all down the the bottom of the river, as if nothing had ever happened.
We didn't dare go near the doors in case the water finally broke through and sucked us all out to a certain death. We just sat in our seats, numb and staring at the faint shapes drifting passed that looked more and more human as minutes turned to hours with no end to the river in sight.
At some point the train began to turn, heading deeper and deeper, quickly going far beyond the deepest recorded point of the river to some new unknown depth. As our ears all began to pop against the pressure of these newfound depths the first person broke into frantic screams.
We all soon followed, howling and weeping and begging to wake up again.
It felt like hours passed us by in this state but for all we knew it could have been days.
Eventually we did calm down again, one-by-one returning our numb gazes to the windows, seeing only our grief-wrecked faces staring back and the faint shapes of other lost souls in the distance. They swam freely as if they were mocking us but none of us want to leave.
Leaving means accepting and we do not accept this death.
So the train carries on unseen tracks.
So we stare at our own reflections.
So in a way, we all live on.
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