Sixth Sense

I was scratching at my hand.

The thoughts racing through my mind were mirrored by the scenery rushing past the train’s dirty window. It was the middle of the day, but everything felt dark and blurry. People were chatting and laughing in the seats around me and I was angry at their happiness.

The one person who didn’t seem happy, was a man sat in front of me on the opposite side of the train. He caught my attention after we came out of a tunnel. I had been on the train for nearly half an hour and hadn’t noticed him until now. He seemed to appear from nowhere.

He was facing away from me, staring out of the window, watching the world rush past. He turned forward and held his head in his hands. I could see he was wearing weathered clothes and had dark scruffy hair with streaks of grey behind his ears.

With his head in his hands, he now looked as though he was crying, but no one else in the carriage had noticed. I was trying not to stare, but I was drawn to him. I wanted to get up and ask if he was OK but something was stopping me. I felt anxious, I wanted to get off the train but I couldn’t, everything felt so fast and the laughing got louder.

I kept staring at the man who was now sobbing into his hands. Why had no one noticed? I needed to move, I needed to help him but I was frozen. I looked out of the window at the blurred trees and grassy hills. By the time I looked back at the man, his eyes were staring into mine.

Everything stopped.

His cold stare consumed me. His skin was chalk white and his eyes were empty and dark. His lips were pale and his skin was pulled tight around his skull. He reached out to me, pleading for help with his skeletal hands.

He was dead.

I shut my eyes tight and pressed myself against the cold glass of the train window. This couldn’t be real, yet he was still there and I could feel his pain through his piercing eyes. I caught my breath and jumped out of my seat, pushing my way up the aisle, past the other passengers. I wanted to scream but I knew no one could help me. The train started to slow down and I ran towards the doors, keeping my eyes fixed to the floor.

The train came to a stop at the station and as soon as the doors opened, I rushed off the carriage. I stood on the platform, took in a deep breath and collapsed against a wall. As the adrenalin started to leave my body, I felt a sharp pain. I had scratched the back of my hand so hard, it was bleeding.

I stared down at the wound I had unknowingly inflicted. I knew this was all in my head but I was still terrified. How could I tell anyone I see dead people?

I was officially trapped inside my own horror film, but i knew Bruce Willis wasn’t going to rescue me.