The Ghoul Train by Aly Ross (good short books .txt) 📖

The Ghoul Train

CHAPTER 1

Every night I would hear the man scream.  This was accompanied by the creaking tracks of an arriving train. No-one knows where the train comes from, only where it arrives and where the passengers get on. At precisely 12:01 the raspy rusty train would appear magically from the fog, a hundred metres from the train station. For over fourteen years, I’ve heard the train come and go without fail. Strangely, this morning is different. I awake at 12:31 to find the train has failed to arrive.

The sun was too bright. The mornings between Summers Dawn and Winters Hallow, the sun would always arrive bright and sparkly for the next sixteen hours. My tent flap was waving open like an albatross flapping its wings. It had been three years since that fateful night were the train of death never arrived. My family live one kilometre from the train track. We only lived of meagre rations and the few trash bins to be found from the industrial areas.

 Each night I would be pondering what the train would be doing in its mystery world. I would solve the problem a lot faster if I had a pen and paper, but because I was living in poverty and my resources were inadequate, I was unable. I could sometimes wonder there and feel the icy cold tracks, one degree away from frost. The rough rocks, all equally as cold as the decayed tracks. And the sand. Grains of sand so small an ant wouldn’t tread on them.

“Lunch!!” Mum called from the makeshift kitchen. Really, it’s just a miniscule room and a bucket of water supplying the hose which was used as a tap. She sounded sad, especially since dad left when I was five years old. Mum was so worried when he left, almost like there was a greater plot at play. She would always talk about him. How I’d have his eyes, his hair, even his personality.

 I walked into a beige tent with beige clothing and beige food, through another spare room and into the eating area. Bread was sitting in front of me like a heavenly cupcake. This plain piece of food to normal people is no big deal but to us, it was like finding the most precious of diamonds. If bread was found lying around or in a bin, sometimes we would eat it or sometimes, we would even try to save it for later, but it ends up harder than the rocks on the track.

3 years later

I walked out on the scorching sand. I had found a half-eaten apple, three stale crackers, a bottle of half-finished soda and a loaf of bread. A whole loaf. Who would chuck out a loaf of bread? All 14 pieces of it. I smelt the warm, soft bread. It was probably warm from being out in the sun for god knows how long, not because it was fresh from the bakery.

I walked back home with my stash, as I always did. I walked on the scorching sand, as I always did, and I walked past the railway tracks, as I always did. I arrived at home when the sun just peaked below the forest. I had tried to venture into the forest once, but it didn’t go well. I ended up going face to face with a Jota, a beast of snowy white teeth and eyes like the devil himself.

One evening, after I collected my stash of food and water, I happened to pass the railway to find a man. I saw a man on the train tracks! Not just anyone, the Goth person. He was the one who always screamed before the train stopped at the station. With a pale face and Jet-black hair so long it’s just past his ears. One could mistake him for a girl.  He has rings in his nose and a necklace with a skull and then another finger ring that, glows.

The man also had a tight tee-shirt on with a sword being stabbed into a Mythycagl, a beast of legend. On top of that he wore a motor-bikers jacket. He wore jeans with a tinge of beige, which really blended with the surroundings. His belt was just like any ordinary belt, only there was a big DC in the middle. His boots were a shade of grey, which I could see matched his feelings as he dropped to the ground… with a gold sword through his skin.

Mum told me in no uncertain terms to not return ever again to the tracks. But clearly, I didn’t listen, because before midnight on a Friday, I was standing at the edge of the rail once again. I could start to see a glowing ring appear in the centre of the smog, like the goth persons ring. Hands sweating, I walked all the way to the smoky area, stood there, and then put my hand in, only to realise, I couldn’t. It stopped at the bottom of my middle finger, exactly where a glowing ring would be.

CHAPTER 2

I stood there in absolute disbelief. I had to study the Goth man a little more. He had a dagger, dipped with blood under his shirt. I saw a tattoo of a tear next to his right ear. Maybe that was to mark a permanent sadness he had. I decided to face my fears. I took of the ring, slid it on my ring finger… nothing happened. It was almost like it was an ordinary ring. But surely it couldn’t have been an ordinary ring. Abruptly, I felt a cold chill down my spine, as if it were broken. My fingers started to heat up incredibly quickly. I decided to take it off, but keep it, for other times.

 I had to play it cool. The next day had to be a normal one, or else mum would find my secret. When mum said lunch was ready, I would wait five minutes before going to eat, like I always do. Then, when mum asked me to have a shower, I complained, like I always do. Then finally when mum asked me to go to bed. I didn’t. As soon as my mother was out of sight, I slid on the ring and crept out into the night. The intimidating night.

I crept on the cold sand, wet from dew. I could barely see, only to be guided by the shining light of the moon. I went to the railway. The man was gone. I endeavoured deeper into the night. I crept further down the railway tracks. And then, I heard it. A sound I had longed to hear. It was the sound of screaming. Pure. Chilling. Screaming. Suddenly, a portal opened.

Poof. It happened like that. The portal opened. I started with my pinkie, then my pointer, then my ring finger and then, my whole hand was through. When I walked through completely, there was fire all around me. I figured this was a magic ring as it protected me from the fire below me. I also knew because I felt no heat and smelt my favourite smell, melted mint chocolate with ice-cream.

“Ah, Mr Gothica. Nice to see you again.” I looked at myself. OH NO I thought. I was in the body of this Mr Gothica, the goth man. Then I saw them with their gleaming golden swords. “They’re the ones who killed the REAL Mr Gothica.” I noticed that I said it allowed because they started walking towards me. Now running. I speed through a door, not realising what it said. I suddenly fell deep into a hole. Abruptly, somehow the Golden Men had gotten fifty stories down in less than five seconds. The only way out was to jump. I noticed fiery flames below me, then a bunch of soft, but putrid wasp nests. I quickly calculated that if I jumped, the ring would protect me from the flames like last time and the wasp nests should break my fall. So… I jumped.

I suddenly realised what the sign said. TORCHER CHAMBERS. I knew this because the wind hit my face so hard, I tried not imagining bricks smashing constantly in my face. Then I hit the wasp nests. All I could hear was the crunching and crackling of the homes being destroyed. BANGGG! I hit the ground. Not fast, just painfully. I suddenly realised that there was a room to the left of me. It said: FOR ALL THE LOST SOULS- WARNING, HIGH SCREAM LEVEL INSIDE BRICKLE-half brick and half nickel- DOOR. I entered and there it was. The noise was deafening. The screaming was overwhelming. I ran to the… oh no. The Brickle door. Then I read the name. ALBUS POMEROY NIKELSON. My father. I wasn’t thinking and left straight for my father’s tomb.

There was only a candle, a spirt of my dad, and me in the tomb. I felt so isolated from the world, I wanted to cry. But I knew I had to keep going if I wanted to get out of here. There was a faint light out of the tomb that I crept towards. It was a door. A big, oakwood polished door. I decided, as anyone would, to enter it. Only to find myself at the very place I started… home.

CHAPTER 3

The desert wind picked up as soon as my foot touched the ground. I walked a few hundred metres to find the real Mr Gothica. I then walked another few hundred metre to find home. It had seemed no time had passed because mum was still cooking her dinner, rice…brown rice. I snuck back to bed without mum noticing. Luckily, the next morning I had an opportunity to go to the tracks again. There it was- the sight was unbearable- the rickety, rackety, rusty train. It had finally returned. After all these years, these long years, the train had returned.

 Though it had a symbol. One which didn’t please me.  Candlelight was the symbols name. I knew because I heard one of the golden guards talk about his leader. Also, because I saw it branded on their forehead, like a tattoo. I raced back home and gathered my equipment. Only this time, I wasn’t going back into the anonymous void.

I raced over next door-which was like five kilometres away because our homes are massive- to see my friend, Aslo. He was an intelligent, un-educated boy of the age around fifteen. I could only count to twenty, so he can only grow so old. After my long and tiring journey, I reached a tiny-smaller tent than mine- brown tent. I walked up to the small, round tent and said “hello??” I soon saw the face of Also. We greeted each other as any friend would do, and then I led him the rail. One without a train.

I wanted to find answers. And by the look on Aslo’s face, so did he. I felt like he was going to explode, and then he said the simplest form of question. “WHAT?” I tried to explain, but he just walked off and left me saying, “Solo mission #two”

 There it was again. The fire, underneath me. I had the ring on, so I looked like Mr Gothica again. I looked around and there were no guards, so that left me to explore the mysterious wonders of this mysterious world under a mysterious cover using only a mysterious thing. A key.

Before I left the other dimension last time, I took a key with an inscription stating: ONE WHO IS LOST HESITATES. I then looked around the room, or more like the corridor. I walked down the corridor to reveal lots of odd names on the doors like, 19th CENTURY HERO’S and SCIENTISTS FROM THE LAST ERA and stuff like ICE-CREAM LOVERS and… GOTHICA AND NIKLESON.  That was my