Okay, the train is still moving I guess, and it hadn't stopped anywhere or at any station. Well, I don't know because I just woke up, so how the fuck do you think I would know if the train had stopped or not?
Let's see...
I rubbed my eyes, the sleep still crusted at the corners. The train rocked gently beneath me, a rhythmic clacking of wheels on tracks echoing through the empty compartment. I looked here and there, and on the wall I saw there was some strange writing on the front side of the seat that I was sitting in. The fabric under my fingers was worn and rough, smelling faintly of dust and something metallic. I moved closer and after carefully reading... hmmm...
के....
Oh shit.
Hahaha, I laughed hard at the strange writing on the wall—it was the language that I'm so fond of and scared of at the same time. My voice bounced off the walls, sounding hollow in the empty space. I remember I was failing in my own language when I was younger and was getting beat up by my teacher because of it, so how am I gonna forget about this damn language?
So let's see what's written here. Hmmm...
After carefully reading:
के तपाईं निराश हुनुहुन्छ??...
Well, let me translate for you what it means.
The translation is "are you sad?" Is that even a question to ask a person who has—I don't know—somehow been transported to a freaking world, or I don't know if it's a world, or if I'm just on a train? To ask if you are sad or not?
Really mate, you taking the piss out of me...
And also, how the fuck am I speaking English here? Shouldn't I be speaking my own language? Well, that's not the main issue here.
So let's see... I am sad, I am terrified. What more do you want?
Phew...
My breath came out shaky. The air in the compartment was stale and cool, making my skin prickle with goosebumps beneath my black coat.
After a certain time, a thought came to me: am I alone on this train, or are there others here too? If I am alone here, then shit, I am fucked up. But if there are more people, then it should be fine.
You know how when you're alone and getting beaten up by a teacher, you feel bad—or should I say it hurts more—but when your friends are with you, then the pain suddenly lessens? That's the same thing with me.
After moving around, my footsteps echoing against the metal floor, I saw there's a separate compartment on this train, and to go to another compartment I have to open this door. The handle was cold under my palm. That's it. Hmm, it's easier than I thought.
But wait, I can't open this door though.
I tried different things and different angles, yanking and twisting the handle until my palms hurt. I even tried standing upside down, but nothing works.
Is there some sort of mechanism? If there is, then how am I supposed to find out if I am alone or not?
Man, this is such a pain in the ass.
Is there some kind of trial that I have to go through, or...
Suddenly, an announcement rang through the entire train—sharp and crackling through old speakers, making me jump:
"Passengers, the next station we are stopping at will be [Annapurna Station]. The door will open on your left-hand side. Please mind the gap."
Anna... what? I thought.
Finally, this train is gonna stop and I can see what the outside world looks like.
There was some time before the train would stop. Don't ask me how I know, but I know.
Should I check if my smartphone is working or not?
I took out my phone from my pocket, the screen cold and dark. I pressed the power button—it lit up but showed no connection, no bars. I can't seem to connect to the Internet. Well then, I can't even charge my phone, I guess.
The train's movement began to slow, the squealing of brakes piercing through the compartment. My stomach tightened.
The train finally stopped with a jolt that made me stumble forward. I rushed towards the door to see the outside scenery, my heart pounding in my chest. Through the window, everything seemed alright—dim lighting, concrete platform, scattered benches—of course, I don't know if that's what train stations look like.
The door hissed open, letting in a gust of cold air that smelled like rain and something else... something wrong. I was just one step closer to moving out of the train when I heard the announcement again, stating:
"If your station is Annapurna, please move quickly from the train. And if not, please stay on the train for further announcements for your station name."
I stopped hastily, my foot hovering in the air, as if I wasn't sure if I should move out or stay here. After some time, I made a decision and moved my right leg out, which was just about to step onto the wet platform of the station. I saw people running from the station as if someone was chasing them—their footsteps slapping against the concrete, ragged breathing echoing in the empty space.
Wait... I can see real people—real fucking people!
I saw 3 people running. One was an old man with the same clothes that I was wearing: black coat, white shirt, and red tie—the fabric flapping wildly as he ran. And 2 other people, young like me but not handsome like me, lol.
And yes, both young people were wearing the same clothes that I was wearing. Is there some sort of resemblance to this world?
The 3 people who ran like wild oxen suddenly stopped as they looked up, their bodies frozen in terror. Suddenly, the old man was lifted—his feet dangling off the ground—and—Swissssssss—he disappeared into thin air with a sound like fabric tearing.
Both young men were silent for a second as a wave of fear surged through their bodies. Blood dripping on their faces—warm, thick droplets—not theirs, but the old man's red blood was dripping from somewhere above, and a silver drop of something metallic was dropping with the blood of the old man, making soft plink-plink sounds on the concrete.
Suddenly, silence fell over the platform—heavy, suffocating silence—with nothing remaining.
All 3 people had mysteriously disappeared like ghosts. The only sound was the drip... drip... drip of blood hitting the platform.
And here, inside the train, I was shocked. Perplexed. Fear and confusion ran through my body like ice water, sweat dripping on my face—cold and clammy—as I tried to clean it using my hands, which were smaller than any young people who are my own age and trembling uncontrollably.
What the fuck just happened... I thought, my mouth dry as cotton, the taste of fear bitter on my tongue.