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 Andrew Cross 

Andrew is.


The Ghost Train

The stench of fear clung to my lungs as we approach the next stop. A train full of ghouls, trying to make me one of them. I know no one can help me now. I’m the only one they haven’t converted to their eerie ways. My one chance at freedom is coming soon. I must find a way to escape my hiding spot. Is this possible? Will I be spared the fate of the others? I hear them start to collect outside, as if they can sense my fear. I’m just going to have to run.


 The announcement as clear as ever: “We will shortly be arriving at Canterbury West.” It was as if it was their signal to attack. It certainly was mine to run. They chased me like wolves, grabbing at my flailing arms and legs. It was too late. I had run too soon. The driver was my only hope now. Banging on his door, begging he let me in. The devil laughed.


The doors opened as we all sat down. I felt no different but knew everything had changed. People streamed on, hoping to escape the chaos around them. Little did they know; the chaos was here also. “The next station is Sturry.” We moved as one, terrorising these newly boarded souls, bending them to our will. They should have seen it coming. They should have tried to hide. We saw where they were running. In slades and slades they died. I saw the horror of the ghost train, and the souls it did convert. We soon would go and spread the curse and control the whole of earth.

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