The sensation of falling returned and for a moment, Otrahun thought he had fallen from the platform in his sleep. He was back in hell, or wherever the fuck it was.
There was nowhere to go from here. The platform made him feel like a man stuck in the vast emptiness of space. The lights from the platform didn't breach the darkness for too far. If he closed his eyes, he could still hear the crackle of electricity somewhere in the distance.
Then he heard a shrill whine that kept getting clearer and clearer with every passing second.
Something was coming his way. Something big. And fast.
He stepped to the edge of the platform and looked at its sides. A mistake as the oncoming train nearly took off his head. At the last moment, he flinched back and the wooshing of the train made him stagger back a step or three.
The train slowed down and it seemed to simply float in the air in the absence of any tracks. He could see inside the compartments, lit by an orange light, the train carried with it a smell of burning hair and rotten eggs. The doors of the train opened like the maw of a filthy animal and the smell was even stronger now.
"No way back, no way to get off this platform, except this train. Oh, what the hell, what's the worst that could happen?"
Otrahun took a deep breath and stepped onto the train. The door closed at once and the train started to move. He held his breath for as long as he could, but then spots started to appear in front of his eyes and he had to take a breath of the fetid air. Surprisingly, the air did not smell too bad now that he was inside the train.
There were no seats or handholds inside the train. Only small protrusions from the walls that were a sort of handhold, if one stretched his imagination. Outside the glass windows, it was all darkness. Once or twice, lights flashed outside and Otrahun fancied he could see a sort of landscape. But it was gone in a flash.
With no idea where the train was going, he sat down and put his back against the wall of the compartment. In his mind, he ran through all that had happened so far.
Strange girl. Stranger offer. Threatening. Something about saving the world. The talk of dying and then this. He tried to connect the dots, but it did not make too much sense. As if the writer of the story his life had no idea what to do with him. He needed to take control of the situation or he'd be stumbling around in this hellscape for god knew however long.
The train was finally slowing down. He stood up and went near the door to see whatever was visible outside. The lights were different here. Strobing and pulsing lasers dotted the landscape, faint hard techno bass thrummed through the compartment and the glass shook from the sound. The doors opened and the noise was like a punch in the gut. He could see a stage in the distance but there was no band on the stage, only a drum-set.
"This looks like fun," he murmured and stepped out of the train's compartment.
He walked towards the crowd that had gathered in the ground near the stage. Everyone in the crowd was wearing masks. Most of them were some variation of a skull with bits and pieces missing. He was surprised at how real the masks looked. They were all wearing tattered clothes that looked more like rags and less like clothes. He chose a comfortable space and tapped his foot to the beat of the rhythm that was playing from the speakers placed all around the ground.
The lights were dimmed just then and the harsh techno music slowly petered away.
The lady's voice in his ear sounded like she was standing just next to him. It was so sudden that he almost spun around. But there was no one there.
"Get the fuck out of there. Get out before the music starts again."
"Yeah? Fuck you," he said. "When I asked for help you were silent and now that I want to watch this, you want me to move? Fuck that. I'll listen to the music for as long as I want."
"Move from there or you will not be able to."
"Like I give a fuck. I am staying put."
The voice on the other end went silent.
A slow roar rose in the throats of the gathered masses as a spotlight lit up the drum-set. The feedback whine of the microphone made him wince.
A voice heavy as Sisyphus' boulder rumbled, "Ladies and gentleghouls!"
There was nowhere to go from here. The platform made him feel like a man stuck in the vast emptiness of space. The lights from the platform didn't breach the darkness for too far. If he closed his eyes, he could still hear the crackle of electricity somewhere in the distance.
Then he heard a shrill whine that kept getting clearer and clearer with every passing second.
Something was coming his way. Something big. And fast.
He stepped to the edge of the platform and looked at its sides. A mistake as the oncoming train nearly took off his head. At the last moment, he flinched back and the wooshing of the train made him stagger back a step or three.
The train slowed down and it seemed to simply float in the air in the absence of any tracks. He could see inside the compartments, lit by an orange light, the train carried with it a smell of burning hair and rotten eggs. The doors of the train opened like the maw of a filthy animal and the smell was even stronger now.
"No way back, no way to get off this platform, except this train. Oh, what the hell, what's the worst that could happen?"
Otrahun took a deep breath and stepped onto the train. The door closed at once and the train started to move. He held his breath for as long as he could, but then spots started to appear in front of his eyes and he had to take a breath of the fetid air. Surprisingly, the air did not smell too bad now that he was inside the train.
There were no seats or handholds inside the train. Only small protrusions from the walls that were a sort of handhold, if one stretched his imagination. Outside the glass windows, it was all darkness. Once or twice, lights flashed outside and Otrahun fancied he could see a sort of landscape. But it was gone in a flash.
With no idea where the train was going, he sat down and put his back against the wall of the compartment. In his mind, he ran through all that had happened so far.
Strange girl. Stranger offer. Threatening. Something about saving the world. The talk of dying and then this. He tried to connect the dots, but it did not make too much sense. As if the writer of the story his life had no idea what to do with him. He needed to take control of the situation or he'd be stumbling around in this hellscape for god knew however long.
The train was finally slowing down. He stood up and went near the door to see whatever was visible outside. The lights were different here. Strobing and pulsing lasers dotted the landscape, faint hard techno bass thrummed through the compartment and the glass shook from the sound. The doors opened and the noise was like a punch in the gut. He could see a stage in the distance but there was no band on the stage, only a drum-set.
"This looks like fun," he murmured and stepped out of the train's compartment.
He walked towards the crowd that had gathered in the ground near the stage. Everyone in the crowd was wearing masks. Most of them were some variation of a skull with bits and pieces missing. He was surprised at how real the masks looked. They were all wearing tattered clothes that looked more like rags and less like clothes. He chose a comfortable space and tapped his foot to the beat of the rhythm that was playing from the speakers placed all around the ground.
The lights were dimmed just then and the harsh techno music slowly petered away.
The lady's voice in his ear sounded like she was standing just next to him. It was so sudden that he almost spun around. But there was no one there.
"Get the fuck out of there. Get out before the music starts again."
"Yeah? Fuck you," he said. "When I asked for help you were silent and now that I want to watch this, you want me to move? Fuck that. I'll listen to the music for as long as I want."
"Move from there or you will not be able to."
"Like I give a fuck. I am staying put."
The voice on the other end went silent.
A slow roar rose in the throats of the gathered masses as a spotlight lit up the drum-set. The feedback whine of the microphone made him wince.
A voice heavy as Sisyphus' boulder rumbled, "Ladies and gentleghouls!"
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