Express Train to Hell

by on Aug.02, 2011, under Syndicated from the Web

Reposted from Rotting Flesh Radio | Go to Original Post

by: RFR Casket Crew Denise

Express Train to Hell

Express Train to Hell

Uncle George knew old Cletis who just mysteriously disappeared one day. When Uncle George went to investigate, he met an old stationmaster who told him Cletis’ story. According to Uncle George, Cletis was a homeless rambler who spent many days hanging around Newark Central Station. The stationmaster kept running him off but old Cletis kept coming back. He would run up to the other patrons shouting, “It’s coming for me! It’s coming!” When the patrons asked Cletis who was coming, he would cry, “I done wrong! I killed a man that cheated me at cards and now I’m going to pay!”

The stationmaster finally had enough and took Cletis aside and threatened to call the police if he didn’t quit harassing the other patrons. Old Cletis rolled his eyes and cried out, “The Express Train for Hell is coming for my soul! You gotta help me!” Cletis pulled away from the stationmaster and ran for the door. It was two minutes to midnight.

Suddenly, at that exact moment, a new sound introduced itself. A long whistle blew once. Twice. Three times. Cletis was standing at the edge of the platform frozen. He stared down the tracks in sheer terror. The stationmaster ran or Cletis and tried to pull him out of harm’s way.

The train whistle sounded again. Just then a warm rush of air blew against everyone near the platform and the stationmaster heard the roar of an invisible train passing directly in front of him. He heard the hiss of the steam and the screech of flanges against iron rails. But he saw nothing.

Cletis screamed and wriggled underneath the grip of the stationmaster. Then Cletis was gone and the roar of the invisible train faded into the distance and then ceased. The stationmaster looked at the station’s clock. It was midnight.

People standing around the platform began to murmur, “Good lord, he was right.” The stationmaster pulled out his old red handkerchief and wiped his sweating bald head. A trembling man standing nearby approached the stationmaster.

“Sir, what was that?” he asked.

The stationmaster stared blankly at the tracks and then turned to the man. “Son, I believe that was the Express Train to Hell.”

Then the stationmaster pushed his way back through the station door and then turned to address the frightened passengers. “Nothing to worry about folks,” he said, “It was just an express train passing through. The next train will be here in five minutes.” The stationmaster’s reassuring manner calmed everyone. People turned away and settled back into their seats.

The stationmaster returned to his office, closed the door and poured himself a stiff drink to calm his nerves.

“Well, that’s one for the books,” he muttered. “I wonder if I should put it on the schedule. 12am – Express Train to Hell.”

Shaking his head, the stationmaster gulped down the remaining liquid and then went back to work.

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