Station at Night

Station at Night

         It was a cold and lonely place. A blanket of darkness had covered the sky about an hour ago. He strolled onto the railway platform. The pub had just shut, and the regulars had all gone home. Not being from this small village and there being no places he could sleep for the night, and no other modes of transport, he had to travel home by train.
         He was unsure of the times the trains passed through here, though the bartender had told him they passed through once an hour. Arriving earlier that day, he had met with a business client in the local pub. After his client had gone, he had decided to stay for another ten minutes. Some regulars were talking, and on noticing that he wasn’t from around here, they asked him to join in with the conversation.
         Losing track of time, he had stayed for another few hours, talking and drinking. It was ten-thirty, and the last orders had been called, when he finally realised how long he had spent in the pub. Now he was stood on the railway platform, feeling rather foolish and looking down the track, watching it disappear into the darkness with not a train in sight.
         Shivering, he flicked the collar up on his coat, and pulled it tight around himself. An icy cold wind was blowing. He began to shiver uncontrollably as the chill of the night began to nip at his skin. There was still no sign of the train. He looked back toward the street, the glare of the street lights were a crown of light against the dark and dismal night sky. The wind went skipping down the flat line of the track, whipping innocent victims on the platforms, as it travels from station to station.
         He pulled his mobile phone from his pocket. It was a brand-new design, one of the latest models. Battery low were the words flashing on its brightly lit screen. Scrolling through the address list on his phone, he highlighted the word wife. He pressed the call button, and the phone turned itself off. There were no public phones nearby, so he couldn’t even tell his wife he would be late.
         Pulling his coat tighter to protect himself from the elements, he looked down the track again, willing for the train to arrive. Dripping water, from who knows where, echoed through the night. Water particles floated on the oil of the railway like, and the pebbles between the wooden slats glistened like diamonds in the light of the street lamps. An hour must have passed, surely, yet there was still no sign of a train.
         It was getting colder and a mist of water began to fill the night air. He huddled in the corner of the open shelter on the edge of the platform, to try and hide from the wet. He could hear whispers in the cold night wind. He jumped.
         “Is anybody there?” he called.
         The leaves on the trees rustled in response. Shadows moved across the platform, silhouettes created by the light of the street lamps. He peered around the edge of the shelter to see if anyone was there. The branches of the trees waved back to him. Shivering, he sat back in the shelter and closed his eyes tight to try and block out the darkness of the night. He put his hands over his ears, trying to stop the voices he could hear.
         Another twenty minutes passed. It was nearly midnight. No train was coming. He tried to sleep. In the morning he could go back to the pub and phone his wife. Suddenly, the steel track began hiss. A low rumbling could be heard in the distance. Howling into the night, a loud horn bellowed, making him jump.
         He looked around hurriedly, and was blinded by the bright headlights of the train. The train pulled into the station and stopped, flooding the platform with light. Squinting, he looked through the windows of the train, there were no passengers, only the conductor and the driver.
         The doors opened with a wheeze. The conductor stepped out. He clambered out from the shelter, and stumbled over to the conductor. His legs wobbled, and he was shaking.
         “Sorry we’re late,” nodded the conductor, “had a bit o’trouble with the engine, we did.”
         He climbed onto the train, feeling the warmth hit him like a soft pillow. Finding a seat, he sat down, groaning and smiling. He sank into the cushion of the seat on the train. The doors of the train wheezed shut. The engine growled and the train rocked. Rolling out of the station, he glanced out of the window, the smile momentarily flickered from his face as the darkness crept-up on the platform behind him. Facing forward and smiling, thoughts of his wife, waiting patiently at home for his return, flickered through his mind.

The End