The Howards Gate Horror

By Damien Biggs

@RedStarDamien

Seldom did the rain cease to cascade upon the small New England city of

Chester that weekend. It was mid-January, always a quite month for the

city. Every January it seemed that the entire population of 80,000 had

exhausted themselves from prior parties over the preceding holiday

season. Everyone had the same expression that covered their face, their

actions and mood mirrored each other's: slowly and begrudgingly getting

back to the daily grind of life that oozed normality.

Few braved the biblical torrent that fell from the heavens that Saturday

night. It was amongst that treacherous storm, in that strange half way

period that's neither Saturday night nor Sunday morning, that a group of

six friends made their way home. They had spent the evening with their

two other friends, welcoming them into their new home. The eight of them

you see were each romantically paired off.

Dayton and Hollie were the two who had recently moved across town to

Viper Hill.

Zak and Shevaun were the newest addition to the group. Still in their

honeymoon phase, outrageously raunchy public displays of affection

haunted their behaviour like an uncontrollable phantom.

Darrell and Val where the opposite of what society expected their genders

to be. Val was very masculine, she would wrestle anyone who stood in her

way. Darrell was more timid and prone to excessive worrying.

Frank and Amelie where the stereotypical couple. Amelie was a princess,

both in her eyes and in Franks. Frank was her prince charming, her

protector.

Viper Hill sat atop the hillside to the east of downtown, it overlooked

the quite city in a silent watchful manner. Its neatly placed apartment

blocks had a full view of the city. It was in one of those modern

apartments that Dayton and Hollie had decided to call home. Prior to the

young couples move they, like the others, had lived to the west of

downtown. In one of the older, more cramped apartments that sat close by

to the old cemetery. The others still lived in that decaying ill-treated

suburb. That evening they had all talked about how much better it would

be if they were all living within the modern and more upmarket Viper

Hill. Maybe one day they all would, or maybe just some of them.

They hurriedly made their way across the deserted and excessively

drenched street. They had to pause for a moment to let a lone car slowly

splash its way across their path. They then continued across the road to

where the Subway sign illuminated the cold wet night. It almost seemed

like a beacon, welcoming them to a dry and safe haven. Rather than a

beacon, however, they should have seen the sign as a lighthouse, warning

them to stay away from treacherous rocks. Hindsight, life's cruellest

vision, it seems we spend our lives looking through the cold dark

spectacles of hindsight.

They joyfully walked into the yawning mouth like entrance of the subway

station. A large black iron frame archway loomed over top. In metal

letters the name Viper Hill Station clung to its 1920's styled frame like

a wet black cat clinging for its life above an undesired bath. Either

side of the iron archway were the illuminated Subway signs, again encased

in a 1920's black ironclad frame.

Their laughter echoed around them as they carefully placed one foot after

another upon the wet steps that led downwards into the depths of the

station. As they reached the bottom they could see the station platform

directly past the turnstiles, they then noticed that they were no longer

alone. They had quietened down as they swiped their tickets and made

their way onto the cold platform, a strong constant breeze was blowing

through the tunnel, enough to send shivers down the spine of Amelie. She

shuddered and Frank responded by silently placing his arms around her

from behind, slowly rubbing her forearms to help combat the sudden

coldness she had felt. The entire place reeked of damp festering mould

and stagnant water.

On the platform, to their right, sat a wet and dirty looking man who was

constantly looking at his feet. Sat casually beside him was a large

oversized rucksack, the kind that one would take on a hiking trip, hardly

the standard commuters' bag. The bag was just as dirty and wet as he was.

His long black matted hair clung to his scalp and face, it scraggily ran

down the back of his neck and stuck onto his green army styled coat. He

was clearly not a military man however, maybe a veteran, but maybe not,

he seemed only to be in his mid-twenties. His general untidiness also

failed to give the impression of someone who was once, or still was, in

the army. His presence within the station clearly un-nerved the three

girls, there was just something about him, something... odd.

Contrastingly, sat upon a bench to the groups left was a middle-aged man,

as wet as though he might have been, he still seemed to look neat. His

business suit still looking freshly pressed. His shoes still shinned,

from the rain that had soaked them but also from fresh boot polish. His

head stayed straight, looking forward whilst clutching a large closed

umbrella. He wouldn't have seemed so out of place had they'd been waiting

on the platform Monday morning. But what struck his whole presence there

as odd was that fact that it was half past twelve Sunday morning. Though

I suppose it's always in that weird stage of limbo between morning and

night that all manner of strange creatures venture out of the tunnels

whence they resided.

Their wait within the semi-deserted subway catacomb was brief. Within a

few minutes of their uneasy wait on the platform a small roar echoed out

of the tunnel and repeatedly bounced off all the damp tilled walls of the

station. No sooner had that animal-esque roar bellowed out of the black

tunnel than a small piercing set of headlights creeped around the corner.

They illuminated the blackened brick tunnel around them before breaching

the entrance to the station. The snake like train slowly hissed its way

out of its burrow. It ran along the side of the platform before squealing

to a stop like a pig just before a slaughterous hand executes its final

command.

Amelie once again felt the cold breath of the tunnels rushing breeze upon

her neck. It ran down beneath her clothes and sent yet more shivers along

her spine.

Once the trains' movement had stopped and it no longer made any noises,

the doors of the three carriages sharply slid open.

The clean suited man to their left had already gotten up and was slowly

making his way toward the train, tapping his umbrella on the floor as he

went. Each time the steel point hit against the cold damp floor, small

droplets of water fell from the black canvas of the rolled up umbrella,

crashing down and adding to the floors ever increasing dampness. He then

proceeded to enter the train within its front carriage.

Zak and Shevaun, with hands entwined, joyfully and swiftly got onto the

middle carriage. They were whispering and giggling in their usual fashion

as they boarded. Frank gave Amelie one last squeeze from behind and then

removed his hands from her arms. They then proceeded to enter the train

and sat on the seats opposite to where Zak and Shevaun had sprawled out.

Zak was facing forward and Shevaun was twisted, her legs laid upon Zak's

thighs and his hands were slowly and seductively rubbing along her legs.

Darrell and Val were right behind Frank and Amelie, however just as Val

placed her right hand onto the cold metal rail and put one foot onto the

carriage, she noticed something. Just out the corner of her eye, she saw

the untidy man with the green jacket and rucksack about to board their

carriage on the far end, but she also noticed something else. A dark

shadowy figure, their hood was up but it was defiantly another person

boarding the train on the last carriage. She paused what she was doing

and turned her head to get a better view, but there was nothing to see.

Nothing but the scraggly guy who, it seemed, also saw this shadow. He too

had paused boarding the train and was looking in the direction of the

last carriage. His head then turned towards Val. He noticed her looking

that way also, a strange sinister look then proceeded to encompass his

face. The look un-nerved Val, it was a strange concoction of pleasure and

worriment. A half-eaten smile mixed with an anxious look in his eyes. Val

quickly turned and continued to get on the train.

"What's up?" Darrell asked, noticing her nervous glances towards the end

carriage.

"Nothing" she immediately replied, but then she paused whilst holding

onto the pole that stood in the centre of the carriage. She looked down

to the last carriage, all the three carriages were separate but had

interconnecting doors. The centre of the doors were dominated by a large

plain glass window. She stood there for a moment, looking downwards,

through the glass and into the last carriage, her eyes only saw and empty

carriage filled with empty seats, no shadowy figure, nothing. She then

sat next to Darrell, who had already placed himself next to Frank, just

as she did the dirty looking man with the rucksack got onto their

carriage.

He quickly made his way passed the group and sat down on the opposite end

of the carriage to which he had gotten on. A vile smell seemed to slowly

follow his movement. It was a horrendous blend of sweat, wet dog and

cigarettes.

Shevaun had the weakest gag reflex of the group. Once the repugnant

stench had violated just about every corner of her nostrils she could no

longer hide her disgust. Both hands rose up and cupped both her nose and

her mouth. Noticing what Shevaun was doing, the rest of the group

promptly forgot their own discomfort with the smell and began giggling at

her.

The doors slowly hissed shut and with it came the slow jolts that

signalled the trains' departure from the station. Within moments the

train was engulfed in cold darkness, the lights on board flickered and

returned to their previous illuminating state. They were now deep within

the labyrinth of subway tunnels that sprawled out beneath the city like

many electrified tentacles latching onto every crevasse that they could

reach.

A single voice then entered the carriage.

"This is a red line train to West Chester, the next stop will be,

Howard's Gate."

It was the generic electronic woman's voice that was heard throughout the

city's transport network. The voice seemed terribly unhuman, not an ounce

of emotion weighted down any of her words, they were spoken with cold

blooded conviction.

A momentary silence became upon the group, it was then broken by Frank's

low tone.

"Not too bad, only xxx stops to go after this one."

Again another silent pause. Since leaving the station, a strange eerie

air had filled the carriage and smothered its passengers. All were quite,

even Zak and Shevaun were abnormally subdued. Perhaps it was the presence

of the strange dirty man, or perhaps the presence of someone entirely

different. Whatever it was, Frank was determined to expel it's presence

from the group.

"Do you know why it's called Howard's Gate?" He asked to rest if the

group. Surprised by this sudden opening of a conversation topic the rest

of the groups minds seemed to awaken and become more alert.

"Something from the colonial times I once heard" replied Darrell.

"Yea, but something of a sinister legend apparently" Frank continued...

Chester 1700's

A large manner house stood silently one summers evening. It was buried

within the encompassing arms of a large black iron railing fence that

surrounded the grounds upon which it sat. The night was calm, a soft

breeze gently fluttered by like a summer butterfly. In the distance a

small grumbling of thunder was faintly heard. Carried by the breeze one

could just about make out its menacing voice, terrorising a lonesome

merchant ship making its way to the new worlds harbour.

The manners grounds were overgrown wild menacing gardens, the lone

groundsman had been overpowered by its sheer scale many years ago. His

back was a fraction of the strength it used to be in his younger years

and his hands were plagued with arthritis. He did what he could to fight

back against the overhanging trees and bushes, just enough to make it so

that the dirt paths around the grounds were still open enough to let a

horse drawn carriage pass through.

The house it's self was just as unkept and unappreciated as its grounds

that were slowly swallowing it whole. It was maintained by a single house

keeper. Like the groundsman her better days were a long distant memory,

hazy thoughts of being able to run a house efficiently were now nothing

more than a dream. She did what she could for the master of the house,

and it was enough for his standards, but any job she attempted always

took twice as long as it used to. They say home is where the heat is, one

shudders to think what kind of heart would dwell in such a home as this.

As for the master, he was the rich owner of a shipping company. Owning,

however, was all that he did. The company was managed by his only son as

he had unofficially retired after the sudden and questionable death of

his wife.

The master was one Howard Philips and he was looked after by his

manservant, Hester Talbot. Hester was around half the age of his master

however he was also around half the intelligence of his master. On the

night in question Hester found himself being awoken from his peaceful

slumber by a single large thumping noise that seemed to shake the very

foundations of hell. He arose with great haste, swung both legs from out

of his heavy cotton blankets and slipped his feet into a pair of cold

slippers. He made his way out of his bed chamber and across the landing.

Placing both hands upon the wooden banister that overlooked the main

entrance downstairs he paused, slowly surveying the area until his bleary

eyes spied upon the open door to the cellar. Light was coming out of the

opening and slicing the darkness, he was puzzled, for all the years he

had worked for Mr Philips not once did he ever recall that door ever

being unlocked. He stood there watching the opening for a few moments,

faint echoing rumbles of thunder were the only audible sound that reached

his ears.

He began to make his way down the red carpeted stair case, his eyes

firmly fixed onto the mysterious open door. As the staircase creaked and

moaned underneath the slender man's weight. A loud knocking sound pinned

him to the spot. He stood there, listening. Bang! Another knock shock the

front of the house. He removed his gaze from the cellar door and instead

fixated it upon the grand entrance door. Another bang make him jump so

much that he almost lost a footing on the stairs and would surly have

gone crashing down to a violent demise upon the wooden entrance floor. He

grabbed the banister and stabilised himself, he then noticed what daemon

was causing the sudden banging. The wind outside had picked up, gaining

pace from the impending storm moving inwards from the sea. It was this

sudden unholy gush of wind that had thrust a loose window shutter and

proceeded to knock it against the side of the timber house. With

knowledge that it was only the spirit of the elements that was causing

the noise his focus then shifted onto the real mystery of the night, what

was happening in the cellar. Once at ground level he cautiously walked to

the cellar door that stood beneath the wooden panelled staircase. He

eased the door open and peered downwards. The door lead onto a narrow set

of wooden stairs that ended at the bottom with a small wooden landing and

another door. This door too was slightly open and flickering rays of

candle light escaped from the opening along with the mumbling voice of

Master Philips. Curiosity was rampant throughout Talbots mind, he was the

cat it seemed, a cleaver man knows only too well what happens when

curiosity gets the better of the cat. However Talbot was not a cleaver

man and so he slowly and quietly made his way down the dark stair

passage. He reached the bottom and, without moving the door, spied into

the cellar room.

He could see Master Philips pacing around in a circle. He seemed to be in

deep conversation with someone, however his voice was too low to fully

distinguish any recognisable words of English. At first glance Talbot

believed the room to be vacant of any other people. As he crept forward

to get a better look he then saw a second figure. It had the shape of a

large slender hooded man, his heavy grey robes dragged on the stone

floor. This second unknown man just simply stood there with his back to

the door, listening intently to every one of Master Philips incoherent

instructions. Talbots heart was drumming faster, it felt as if it was

about to break free from his caging chest. His breathing had also

quickened. For reasons unknown to him he placed his left hand upon a

small golden crucifix that dangled precariously around his neck. He moved

closer again towards the gap in the door. His right foot slowly placing

itself onto the wooden unlevelled floorboards. His left foot then quietly

raised and began to follow. As it came down his toes softly pushed

downwards on the corner of one board. A large shrieking creek echoed

almost all around the entire house it seemed. Amplified by the deathly

stillness of the night, it was a noise that was enough to stop any man's

heart from beating. Talbot was frozen to the spot, his heart had stopped,

his breathing was that of a dying mans. Still clutching the crucifix, now

tighter than ever, he noticed Master Philips looking directly at him.

Fire burned within his masters eyes, the stare was that of the devils.

Within moments the hooded man's head slowly began to turn. With each slow

turn loud cracking noises begun to ring out loud. It was as if with each

twist of the neck a small pocket of air burst between every joint along

his spine. Talbot felt as if his stomach was about to violently

regurgitate every single piece of carrot, pea and potato from his

vegetable soup supper. The man's neck and head was turning, but his body

still stayed with his, its, back to the door. Like an owl his face was

looking directly at Talbot, his chest still facing Master Philips. Talbot

gasped as he saw the face of the hooded creature, for upon its face there

was no skin. All that was visible were its underlying muscles. Its teeth

protruded outwards and were covered in some form of salvia mixed with the

blood from some of its ruptured veins. Within his eye sockets there sat

no eyes, nothing but deep eternal darkness so horrifying that no spark of

light dared to enter within. Unyet with these dark empty sockets he felt

such heat, such penetrating vision, his mind body and very soul were

being watched, scanned and analysed. He felt so helpless, as if he was a

condemned man being watched by both the judge and the executioner. He

felt shackled and pinned to the spot. He couldn't even move when the

terrifying hooded creature screamed in such a high pitched tone and ran

full speed towards the spot where his trembling feet stood.

All the villagers herd where piercing screams followed by a grand roar of

fire as the manner burst into flames.

Once the fire was out only one body was discovered, alive. It was the

body of Talbot, badly burned and disfigured but alive non the less. After

that night the words that he spoke were only the things of nightmares.

'Wild delusions of skinless demons and portals to hell' was what the

sanatorium doctors called them. However these wild delusions soon found

their way back to the folk of Chester. These wild delusions soon turned

into ghost stories and frightening local legends. Old master Philips was

a devil worshipped they'd say, old master Howard Philips opened a gate to

hell. Thus the name of the area around the demolished manner house was

named, Howards Gate.

By the time Frank had told the group his ghost story the train was

stopping at the next station and the doors silently eased open onto the

deserted platform. A rush of new air escaped from the station and filled

the carriage. Deathly silence surrounded them, the only audible noise

came from the soft humming from the train. The silence was so captivating

that it bred more silence. Everyone seemed too afraid to cough or even

breathe too loudly for fear of breaking the harmonising noise of

nothingness.

The doors lingered open for a while longer, the silence continued for a

while longer, the group's overall uneasiness grew for a while longer.

Just before the silence became too deafening, a loud and violent bang

erupted from the window facing the platform. The entire group jumped and

shuddered, the odd gasp and shriek escaped from some of their mouths. It

was after the initial scare that Amelie first saw the devilish culprit

that gave birth to the menacing sound. Dangling from a piece of cord

outside their carriage were two strange dolls.

The dolls were similar to that of a traditional Amish doll in that their

faces were vacant of any facial features. No eyes, no nose, no mouth, not

a single identifiable mark graced those pale skinned blank heads of

theirs.

The two were bound together by a piece of brown cord, similar to the type

that would be used to entwine a parcel with. They were connected to the

waist by another cord, going from their waist rose upwards towards the

roof of the train.

It was as if someone had thrown the dolls from atop of the carriage,

allowed them to swing around and then hammer against the window with

tremendous force.

A sudden infectious feeling of fear warped it's icy hands around her

heart, constricting it so much that every heart beat was a painful

struggle. For the terrifying detail that she had noticed upon the doll

was enough to stop even the healthiest hearts from operating in a normal

fashion.

As they swung in a hypnotic motion from side to side, Amelie noticed that

one of the dolls had the same purple crop top and dark blue jeans as she

had on beneath her thick black coat.

Amelie grabbed franks hand and squeezed it tightly, for a second

painfully terrifying realisation sliced through her body. The second doll

that was tied to hers was wearing the same clothes as he was. There

dangling in front of them upon the outside of the train were two faceless

dolls dressed as they were that very moment. Frank immediately began to

move toward the door, Amelie's hand still clasped his and stretched

outward in a half hearted attempt to keep him beside her. He continued to

move, she could no longer speak, nor could she delve within herself and

grasp any last lingering strength that she might have had to pull against

him and keep him within the safety of the carriage. She followed him,

still hand in hand, off of the train and onto the silent, empty platform.

They turned and looked upwards to see if anyone, or anything, was still

standing on the top of the train, an empty roof only greeted their eyes.

They followed the twine downwards until their eyes once again cast upon

the two dolls, their swinging motion was almost at an end. Just before

the last swing had swung a loud noise echoed around the platform and

caused Amelie to break her silence and gasp the word "wait!"

To the dismay of both, the doors to the train squealed shut, the sudden

noise of the train pulling away from the platform rang into their ears.

The shocked look on the faces of the rest of the group burned into their

eyes, they were now all alone, in Howard's Gate.

Within seconds of the train leaving the platform and plunging it's self

into the echoing tunnel the carriage jolted forward violently, then

continued like normal. To the group it felt as if the emergency breaks

had been applied with haste followed only by their immediate release and

instant acceleration. No sooner had the confusion and worriment begun to

fall away than a bright flash blinded the carriage. It's bright blue

heavenly aura almost seemed calming. The encapsulating light was followed

by a contrasting loud and violent jolt, as if the train had slammed into

something hard, stationary and hellish. The movement was joined with a

loud bang, just as violent and just as hellish. Darrell and Val were

thrown to the floor whilst the others grabbed onto the armrests of their

chairs to keep them within the seat. The train juddered forward one more

time, a lot less violent than the first, then came to a complete and

silent stop. The lights within the carriage flicked but remained on,

illuminating their freighted faces within the stationary carriage, they

were all frozen to the spot.

The ensuing minutes after the trains demise within the tunnel was filled

with uncomfortable silences and awkward pleasantries. Moments after the

sudden stop the clean suited man had entered their carriage and polity

asked if everyone was alright, no such question was asked by the scruffy

man. To which everyone responded with a simple "yes, thank you".

Once small talk was over and it was certain that everyone on board the

train was in good health, Zak casually walked over the the small red

emergency telephone. He wrapped his fingers around the handset and placed

it to his ear.

He paused momentarily, the rest of the group listened intently to see if

they could hear anything.

"Hello" Zak semi-shouted down the phone. A few minutes went by with the

silence broken by Zak's occasional calls for help but no response came.

Zak finally placed the phone back in its original holding place then he

too sat in his original spot next to Schevaun.

As Zak sat down a worried question was asked by Darrell, "Well what

next?"

"We just have to wait" responded the man in the suit. "The whole

transport system is organised by computers, so somewhere in some control

room a light is going off telling an engineer that this train is not

working."

"I guess" was the response from most of the passengers, it seemed his

rational reason for waiting subdued most of them.

A few more minutes went by when suddenly Zak and Shevaun had decided

enough was enough. Their deep burning passion had been re lit. For some

unknown reason whatever feelings that had previously subdued their

honeymoon love were now gone. They were back to their usual wild and

uncontrollable passionate selves.

"Right, well we're just going to go into the next carriage for some" she

paused and looked at Zak, who was giving off a smouldering naughty

schoolboy smile. "Alone time" she continued "while we wait for the

emergency services, or engineer, or whoever".

Before any objections could be voiced they both hastily made their way to

the sliding door that connected the middle and end carriages. Hands

entwined they proceeded to slide it open, walked through and slide it

firmly shut.

The lights flickered again, as they came back on Val noticed something

beneath the seats where Zak and Shevaun had been sitting. It was a small

black cardboard shoe box, no markings graced its top or sides, just

blackness.

"Was that there when we got on?" she asked Darrell, pointing over to the

box.

"I cant remember" he replied, his face didn't hide his confused and frantic search within his brain. "I don't think it was" he ended.

Val then got up and cautiously made her way to the box, she noticed both

the suited man and the dirty one studying her movement.

She knelt down, her knees felt the damp wet floor slowly soaking its way

into her jeans. She leaned underneath the seat and pulled the box out

from its hiding spot.

All Darrell could see was her back hunched over as she opened the lid of

the box. Her body blocked his vision from seeing inside but his ears soon

heard her horrified words. "Darrell, quick look at this!" she shouted.

He quickly moved over to where she was still kneeling and saw her holding

two faceless dolls, these dolls were dressed in the same clothes as Zak

and Shevaun. The real terrifying aspect of these dolls however was that

their faceless heads where so severely severed from their bodies that

only a small amount of material was keeping their heads attached. Their

heads flapped back and forth like a small scab flapping off of its hosts body.

She dropped the dolls and ran over to the door of the last carriage, her

attempts to open it where in vain, it was either stuck, or locked.

"Come help me get this open!" she called over, all three of the men

jogged over to the door, all three of them tried to slide the door open

and all three of them failed. Once they had stopped trying to open the

door Val noticed a hooded figure standing at the end of the carriage. The

hooded figure stood there, watching Zak and Shevaun passionately kissing

in the middle seats of the carriage, he held a large ceremonial styled

knife.

Fists then frantically banged against the glass, lungs burst with loud

terrified screams. The entire carriage was alive with extreme noise and

movement. Unyet in the other carriage, calm romantic gestures, it was

almost as if they were encased in a soundproofed bubble. A bubble that

was theirs and theirs alone, their love was motionarray unyet all else

around them was frozen.

The bubble, however, was about to burst, pieced by the hooded figure who

was now almost on top of the young couple. His knife raised with a firm

clasp, his other hand then proceeded to swiftly grab Shevaun's ponytail,

with a scream her head was thrusted backwards so that her eyes locked

onto his, she saw the face of her attacker, the group was sure of this as

she let out another horrified scream. Zak was frozen to the spot, fear,

it seemed, had placed its hands upon his shoulders and refused to let him

move. He was forced to watch as the girl, who he adored with all his

heart and soul, had her throat slowly slit. As the cold metal blade

carved its way around her neck, her screams slowly turned into an

inaudible mix of gargling and chocking noises. Blood began pumping out

from the open incision, a small amount of blood was pulsated so

vigorously that it shot straight passed the wound and entered the back of

her mouth, drawled down the sides of her cheeks and escaped onto the

floor beneath her.

Once she had gargled her last cry for help and twitched her leg one last

time the hooded figure calmly threw her body to the ground. Discarding

the young girl as a simple piece of cast off meat, freshly slaughtered

and allowing her body to drain fully of all of life's precious fluids.

He then placed his thumb into the middle of Zak's forehead, right in

between his gaping and weeping eyes. His index finger was placed at the

top, right where Zak's thick dark hairline began. Slowly and with an

almost hypnotists touch he pushed Zak's head backwards and placed the

blade to his now exposed throat. Shevaun's blood still clung to the blade

like a child desperately clinging to its parent, he then carried out

Zak's execution in the same manner as Shevaun's. Slowly and calmly

carving its way around, however this time no sounds were made, not even

the repulsive gargling noise was heard. It seemed as though that as

Shevaun's blood was emptied so to was any last lingering amount of life

Zak had within him.

As Zak's neck was finally fully slit the lights in the carriage

flickered, and then blackness surrounded them all. A few scuffling noises

came from the grizzly end carriage, a few of the group backed slightly

away from the door. The lights then suddenly flashed on momentarily and a

strange monstrous face was seen in the doors window. None called make out

any facial features but all shrieked in terror and jumped backwards as

the carriage was plunged again into darkness. Within seconds the lights

came back on, no face was seen in the window, only two bodies occupied

the end carriage, the helpless and lifeless bodies of Zak and Shevaun.

Val stepped back with a feeling of great sickness within her, her mind

struggled to come to terms with what she had just been a witness to. As

her foot moved backwards her stiletto heel brushed over something, she

had to grab hold of the hanging metal rail to keep herself from falling.

She glanced down to see what had latched onto her shoe. To her horror,

there upon the floor, upon the soaked and dirty carriage floor at her

very feet was another black shoe box.

Darrell, noticing Vals near fall, had also seen the box, he bent down and in with almost superhero bravery flipped back the lid, and then

gasped. The charred remains of another faceless doll was all that sat

within the box. Around its neck hung a golden St Christopher neckless.

Darrell placed his hand upon his chest and gasped. Val turned to look at

him, his worried expression infectiously spread to her face. She now knew

where she had seen the same neckless, it was around Darrells neck. Frantically scrambling and clawing at his polo-shirts neckline he could

no longer feel any chain, it was gone. He ran over to the emergency

telephone once more, pulled the handset from the receiver and placed it

to his ear. Just as he began to yell into the phone about a possible fire

in the hope that someone would hear, the others noticed his body suddenly

tense. Every one of his muscles clamped shut along with his jaw, his

teeth burring themselves deep into his tongue. Thousands of volts where

pouring out of the phone and pulsating into his body, electrically

burning him from the inside out.

Val started to run over to him but the suited man grabbed her and held

her back. "You can't do anything without being electrocuted yourself" he

said in a heavy hearted way. "I'm sorry but we just have to wait for it

to short out".

She collapsed to the floor, knowing that the words he had spoken where

the unfortunate truth. Tears poured from her eyes as she laid in a ball

by his feet. A loud bang brought her head back up, it must have been the

sound of the phone dropping to the floor she thought. But she was unable

to know that for sure as once again the lights flickered off and darkness

encased them all.

When the lights eventually came back on the phone was lying on the ground

but Darrells surely charred body was nowhere to be seen. "Where is he?!" Sobbed Val "where is he you bastard!" Her head collapsed

once again into her hands as she could no longer control her emotions.

Her mind was dominated by fear, abandonment and sorrow.

The suited man attempted to comfort her but was distracted by the

noticing of another black show box, it sat on the seat to his right. He

glanced over to the long hairs man who also had his head buried into his

hands. Not wanting to cause any more worriment he silently reached over.

With one hand still rubbing Vals back his other hand flicked the lid of the box. Cautiously he pulled the box towards him and chanced in.

Once he had seen what was within the box he removed his hand from Vals back, his other hand left the box and slowly edged backwards. For within

the box his eyes had seen nothing, just an empty box. No doll was inside,

the only thing that was in there was a small loan umbrella. His mind

raced, what did this mean? No doll, just his umbrella, could this mean

that he was not going to share the same fate as the others. "To hell with

this" he sternly said out loud. "You two can stay and face your end but

I'm leaving".

He turned and made his way towards the carriages middle doors, Val and

the dirty man seemed too lost within their own terrified and exhausted

minds to notice or care what he was doing.

His fingers forced their way into the narrow gap between both sliding

doors, he managed to open it just enough to curl his fingers around the

rubber edges and push the doors aside. A gap was made just wide enough

for him to squeeze through, his right leg pushed through then the rest of

his body followed.

A few sobbing minutes passed until Val looked up and saw the dirty man

still standing in front of her. Upon his face there was not a single spit

of emotion, not one ounce of human compassion was felt as she looked into

his dark lifeless eyes. A blind rage engulfed and swirled within her

mind, all she could feel was hatred towards the scruffy, dirty man who

stood in front of her. She leapt forward screaming "you have something to

do with this, I know you do!" She lunged and grabbed his rucksack, pulled

the zip across with so much force that the zip almost ripped off of the

end. Her frantic search ended within seconds, she froze. Her eyes slowly

moved upwards, then so too did her head. She looked deep into his eyes

and pulled from the bag a faceless doll. The doll was wrapped in a

plastic bag, only its head was visibly poking out of the top. Pierced

through both the bag and the doll was a small toy knife, identical to the

one the hooded figure had demonically used upon Zak and Schevaun.

"I've got no idea why or how that's in there". The dirty man confessed,

raising both his hands in a gesture of total innocence. Val didn't

respond, instead she just lowered the doll, still penetrating his eyes

with hers, and raised her other hand, holding the sacrificial knife.

Again she said nothing, her eyes just fixated upon his. Again he raised

his hands and confessed pure blinding innocence. Again she ignored him.

In an almost dream like state she got to her feet, still clutching the

knife with a deadly grasp. Fire was within her, her heart could feel a

torrent of lava spilling out and gushing through every vain within her.

She made her way slowly to where he was standing. His eyes filled with

fear as he put both his hands in front of him and back away towards the

end of the carriage. He turned his head to see the connecting door behind

him, realised he was now cornered he decided to act quickly. He rushed

towards her hoping his overwhelming size would be enough to overpower

her. As he leapt forward Val threw her empty hand upwards and attempted

to claw at his dirty, scruffy face with her blood red nails. He raised

both his hands in an attempt to prevent her slender fingers from

penetrating his eyeballs. As he did this, they both stumbled and fell to

the floor, Vals hands still attempting to gouge and the mans hands still attempting to prevent her. The moment both bodies hit the carriage

floor Val then swung the knife around and plunged it into the mans side. The man screamed in pain as Val withdrew the knife and again plunged it

into him. She repeated this action multiple times, the sound of steal

tearing through soft flesh was all that engulfed her ears, the

splattering of blood upon her arms and face was all that she could feel.

The mans screams where never herd, all though the oxygen soon left his lungs and in a matter of minutes was no longer replaced. He was now dead

and Val finally realising this disengaged from her rage filled bloodlust

dream and re-entered reality. She dropped the knife and slowly slid

herself backwards, away from the mans body. A trail of blood smeared its way behind her as she moved. Tears had begun to form in her eyes and

exhaustion took over, she broke down in an uncontrollable fit of

emotions. Once a few minutes had passed she slowly gathered her thoughts,

opening her eyes she saw the plastic bag that contained the doll that she

found in the man's rucksack. She found herself compelled to open the bag,

she wasn't sure what was drawing her to it, it felt like a gravitational

pull, like a magnet drawn to its polar opposite. Still sitting on the

floor she slid across and grabbed the bag. Her blood soaked fingers dug

into the plastic and ripped it open. She froze, for what laid within the

bag was not a faceless doll wearing the clothes she had on. The faceless

doll that laid within the bag. The faceless doll, who's torso had been

penetrated by the little toy knife, that laid within the bag had upon its

body the very clothes of the dirty man. This was his doll, not hers.

She dropped the doll and looked upwards, almost as if seeking an angel or

asking for the heavens to proceed with some form of answer that could

somehow make sense of all these events. No answer came and no angel

descended, however she was no longer alone. Peering through the

connecting carriage door was the hooded figure from before. She didn't

notice him at first, but when she did all heat swiftly exited her body

and she was left a shivering carcass within an abattoir, being spied upon

buy the butcher. The door slowly eased open and then everything went

black. Not the lights this time however, Val had lost all consciousness.

The next time Val opened her eyes she was confronted with the face of a

paramedic, she could feel her body strapped to a stretcher and she was

being wheeled out from the subway station. Rain drops pummelled her face

and bounced off of her respirator mask. She struggled to speak, her

through felt as though a large heavy foot had been constantly standing

upon it for hours. Her mind was a wild mess of flashing lights and loud

noises. As she was being loaded onto the ambulance the paramedic

explained that she had been involved in an accident. The subway train she

was on suffered a power surge as it was turning a bend, this caused the

train to derail and had thrown her body across the train. Her ears heard

the words unyet her mind struggled to take them in, she struggled to

remember what had happened, but all she could remember was Howards Gate

and then a flash, nothing more.

Two weeks later Val, who had now learnt that she was the sole survivor of

that tragic accident, still struggled to remember much from that night.

She spent many a restless night in her hospital bed struggling to piece

everything together until one night she became so exhausted that she

entered the most deepest of sleeps in which a frightening figure was

placed before her. She was within a dark room, a strange hooded figure

sat cross legged in the middle. He looked up and saw Val standing in

front of him, calmly his hands rose upwards and pulled the hood down. His

head was skinless, his eye sockets were eyeless, his mouth was lipless.

Val took a slight step backwards, as she did one of his hands moved

across his mouth, almost singling a shush motion. His other hand then

pointed downwards to a little toy hospital bed, within it laid a small

faceless doll dressed in a hospital gown.