FICTION BY CHRISTOPHER J. CARTER

Christopher J. Carter was born and raised in Standish, England. Now residing in Melbourne Australia, he is an emerging voice in the world of horror fiction. Drawing inspiration from his upbringing, Christopher captures readers with his suspenseful writing and macabre word building. In his free time, he immerses himself in the world of horror, analyzing and crafting tales that keep readers on the edge of their seats.

12:03
by Christopher J. Carter

It feels nice to wear a suit again, I thought to myself as I straightened my shirt and positioned myself in my seat. It has been a long time since I traveled on a train and I was determined to make the most of it.

I took in the environment: mucky brown leather chairs filled with cushions, dark green carpeted floors with diamond patterns, and red velvet curtains hanging limp against the windows. It was lovely and I was glad I chose a train instead of a more modern plane.

I always found myself focusing on the minute details of my surroundings. Dr. Morgan claimed I did that to get myself accustomed to uncomfortable situations, and today was no different. I felt myself drawn towards the leather binding that wrapped around the headrest positioned in front of me. I knew the doctor would have preferred me to take the airplane to deal with my aerophobia; but sometimes I really needed to stay in my comfort zone.

I looked at my Apple watch and noted that it didn’t seem to be working properly. I spent a lot of money on this thing, I thought. Once again, modern isn’t always better.

I wasn’t just upset at the money I spent, but a watch showing an incorrect time bothered my OCD.

“Hey Miles!” Nathan said from the seat facing me. “Are you still with me? You seem to be lost in space.”

I smirked but nodded in agreement. Nath always had a warm presence and friendly, soft features. We met on the first day of high school, both lost and eager to make conversations. It was easy to see how we quickly became good friends.

It was good to be traveling with him.

I pushed up my sleeve and peeked down at my malfunctioning watch again...12:03. I knew what it would tell me before I looked but my OCD made me keep checking it.

“How long did you have to wait at the terminal?” I asked Nath in an effort to get myself out of this mind-set. “I came late.”

“Not too long,” he responded with a level of glee in his voice. It was clear that he was happy to see me so we could reconnect. Usually this would bring me joy but I just couldn’t pull myself out of the funk I was in.

The train started its motion and I felt the gentle chugging of the tracks passing below. I listened to the rustling of the luggage holders overhead. It held my focus and warranted further inspection by my prying mind-set, but I had to put that off for later.

I moved around in my seat, negotiating the best position for my peculiarly aching back. Normally my back was fine, but this morning, it hurt. I must have pulled a muscle. Occasionally that happened.

I turned my gaze back to the window. I noticed a creeping winter mist building outside the ocher tint. Despite traveling at such a speed, I could see that the fog rose slightly above chest height, making it difficult to see anything through it.

“I guess it’s that time of year,” I commented. “I’m not a fan of winter.”

“You’d find fault with everything,” Nath said with a smile. “Life’s too short for that sort of thing.”

I briefly felt offended, but then I remembered that Dr. Morgan always told me to not be paranoid of what others think, and so I relaxed once again. After all, Nath had always been nice to me when others made fun of me.

I sat and stared at the milky, white fog that had hints of gray mist as the barely visible outlines of trees raced by. The weathered trees seemed rooted firmly with narrow branches and no leaves. There was a gloom taking over the sky; mixes of gray and dark blue covered any hint of sunlight. I chose not to think about it. Dr. Morgan always told me that we can choose our moods.

One pleasant thing about this journey was that there was a distinct lack of chatter, save for Nathan, who continued to reminisce. It must be an empty carriage, I thought. Most people preferred to fly these days. I wondered how trains stayed in business.

I sat alone with my thoughts, nodding politely as Nath regaled stories from our younger years, every so often letting out a booming laugh. I went back to watching the trees. Nathan must have noticed my dissociation because he quickly grabbed my knee again. It helped to ease me back into reality.

“So, how long ‘till we get there?” I asked. “My watch is broken.”

He gave me a slightly perplexed look and let out a ‘feeling’ smile. “It’s a train. They go slower than planes. Sit back and enjoy the ride. You’ve always been one to bother with details down to the second. Now me, I go with the flow.”

Again I wondered if he was being churlish, but I didn’t want to confront him. At least, after this exchange, he stopped talking.

Sitting back to embrace the silence, a slight buzzing took over my ears, not dissimilar to a small fan passing me by in loops. I felt the light wings and gentle patter of a bluebottle fly which found its way onto my earlobe, tickling me. I have always hated insects of any kind, with their unknowing thoughts and alienesque movements. Not to mention the germs everyone knew they carried.

I jerked my hand up to my ear. The fly lifted up and perched itself against the window. Transfixed, I watched its fine legs and papery wings twitch as it settled into place, its bulbous eyes moving in all directions. Despite my disgust at the nasty creature, I marveled that it could survive the cold temperatures outside. Or maybe this was how it survived: it was traveling inside a train just like me.

A jolting shudder on the tracks dragged me out of this thought loop. Glancing about, it is clear Nath didn’t notice, but the gentle chugging of the train seemed to be developing into a consistent bump as it pushed over a particularly difficult set of tracks—how much time had passed?

I glanced at my watch, again unnerved that it wasn’t working. I wanted things to always be in correct order; my peace of mind depended on it.

I looked back at the window for the fly which now seemed to have vanished from its spot. I feel oddly disappointed as my eyes darted about the window, mimicking the movement I just observed in the insect. A drizzle began to add droplets on the window outside with a swelling wind being audible, whistling through the tiny crack in the opening. I shut the window tightly.

Suddenly the hum of the fly was back and I felt a tickling itch on my arm. I looked down to see the fly looking back at me. In an alarming panic, I slapped my hand against it—hard—and watched as its legs made their final twitch. Unknown fluid spews from its lifeless body which I quickly wiped off in distaste.

There was a calmness in Nath’s chuckling voice. “Miles, remember that time in Prague where we both just had a breakup, coming home from the party, depressed and feeling sorry for ourselves? You pulled into the Mini Mart and gave me a cigarette and we both shared a moment of sadness.” He let out a booming laughter at the misery we once had. “Let’s not do that again. Cheer up.”

I wanted to tell him that disgust at a fly did not equate to sadness, but then I realized that I truly did feel sad. Sad about what? I wasn’t sure.

I glanced back down at my watch...12:03. Again. “Do you have the time?”

“Well, mine’s saying 6:35.” He displayed his hiking watch with numerous hands ticking in all directions.

He was right in a way. Although I often found a strange comfort in dwelling on negative emotions, today it was bringing me a level of unease.

I rested my eyes for a moment, feeling the gentle bumping and swaying of the train. As I drifted into a light sleep, I thought about that damn fly, the fog, and Dr. Morgan. I fell into a deep slumber and let my dreams take me away. A sudden image flashed before my eyes and somehow I knew it was important.

Bang!

The train hit another bump, much larger than the first. It woke me from my nightmare. I tried to remember why the image in my dream was important, but as most dreams do upon waking, it slipped away and I couldn’t pull it back.

I began feeling more uncomfortable now as a cramp took hold of my knee. I needed to stretch my legs. I clambered past Nath and got to my feet.

I surveyed my surroundings. A few people must have come aboard and into the carriage when I slept. I noticed the new patrons staring forward, focused on themselves, barely giving me a second glance.

That’s when I spotted her humming a soft tune. She had a delicate natural beauty radiating from her with an odd sadness behind the eyes, but her tune was light and her face friendly.

She immediately and intensely caught my eye as I caught hers. For an instance, a connection was felt, as only one would feel when sharing a passing moment with a stranger on a train. I desperately wanted to go and make small talk with her, but I was aware that I was always awkward around women. This beautiful woman would only distain me. They all did.

I hovered over Nathan as he tugged on my sleeve and continued with his tales from our teenage years, catching my eyesight for a moment. I have missed his friendship more than I thought. I tried to focus on that.

But as always, I couldn’t help myself. I remained standing and glanced back for my “almost” train romance. I was saddened to find her seat empty—probably I scared her away. My feelings of a great loss were inappropriate with the idea that I simply hadn’t made contact with a stranger on a train. It felt bigger than that; to me it symbolized the failure that I usually was in my life.

With a depressed sigh, I glanced towards the rear of the train. I saw a darkness emitting from the right back corner, creeping up the walls.

“The lights must be out in the back,” I said to Nath as I gestured to the rear of the train.

I decided to get back into my seat. I stepped past my friend. Suddenly a large jolt made me fumble and I placed my hand on Nath’s head for balance.

“Sorry about that!” I laughed, my first laugh of the day.

Now re-joined with Nathan in our seating, I glanced out of the window once again. It was becoming more difficult to see through the mist, and rain was crashing down harder now. Droplets slapped against the window and I heard a distant thunder.

I looked back over my shoulder into the blackness of the rear of the train, peering through the gaps in the seats, transfixed on how the wickedness has taken any semblance of anything of note within it. My thoughts rambled into how eerie it was, because the darkness seemed to grow, almost as if the carriage was creeping into bleakness without anyone realizing or caring.

Staring and daydreaming, I spotted a pair of eyes in the darkness at the back. They were hard to make out but somehow they seemed to glow. An effect of the light, or lack of it?

The man sat alone, hidden in the shade of the carriage. I repositioned myself to get a better look. His features were sunken more than I had ever seen in any person. The weariness of life seemed to have been drawn across his forehead and down his long, narrow face. All of his features seemed to tell a story of an eternity in pain. In some ways, I related to him.

Thinking about my painful life, an intense feeling of unease began to build within my stomach as a thick drip of sweat trickled from my hairline to my eyebrows, making them itch.

A buzz perked up my senses as my fly friend returned. No wait, this had to be a different fly. Hadn’t I killed the original?

The new fly buzzed at my face. It seemed to linger an inch away from my eyes as I lashed out at it in a blind panic. That seemed to work because the fly lifted above me and disappeared. Or so I thought.

I realized that it was perched on my right ear, just like the last fly had done. I smacked at my ear and ran my hands through my hair and across my face. I tried to lose the horrible sensation of insects crawling all over my being…Dr. Morgan had specifically helped with that delusion. I tried to envision our sessions so that I could relax.

My panic must have showed. “You all right, Mate?” Nath asked.

“Yeah, sure,” I told him but my words sounded strange, even to me.

My increased heart rate pumped adrenaline through my consciousness as I focused more deeply on my surroundings. I couldn’t suppress the feeling that this was all a dream without an exit. I had been mindlessly going along with where I was but my thoughts suddenly became clear.

I looked around. I saw that the train was far more rotten than it had any right to be. The paint on the walls were crisping and curling as they peeled from the edges. The darkness which once inhabited a small corner of the train now engulfed the entire back section and moved towards me. Flies were buzzing, lots of flies. They twitched and creeped across each window with a sound that felt deafening.

“Nathan, where is this train going?”

He turned to me and seemed slightly startled at my panic. But then a look of understanding crossed his face.

“Miles. Keep your eyes forward and listen to me. I know this is difficult for you—it is for everyone—but you are going to be okay. We are all going to be okay. I just need you to not fight this and let go. Remember: go with the flow.”

His calming demeanor settled me back down into my seat. Moments passed as I sat and allowed a numbness to swallow me whole as a tender serenity took over my mind. I turned to see the darkness had rescinded slightly with nary an insect in sight.

Somehow Nathan’s advice seemed to be working and I felt indebted to him. I missed spending time with Nath; he was always a good friend and had my back when no one else did.

“I wish I hadn’t taken this long to see you again, Nath.”

“That’s okay. You always did the best you could.”

The truth was, I hadn’t thought of him much, because thinking about him made it too hard to accept what had happened. I was responsible for the car accident that caused his death. I was the driver that night, so long ago. I began going to Dr. Morgan to learn how to live with the idea that I killed someone.

Even with the doctor’s help, it turned out that I couldn’t live with it.

“I’m glad you’re here to get me through this,” I told my friend who was still a teenager even though I was now forty.

“Are you seeing things clearly now?”

I glanced around with a gentle acceptance and let out a small expressionless smile. “Let’s just enjoy each other’s company before it’s time to get off.”

“Miles,” he said in his soft, understanding voice. “There is no getting off.”