Last Train to Limbo

Writer’s Note – Trigger Warning: Story contains elements of suicidal thoughts.

The nine o’clock train came and went. So did the quarter past nine train. They kept zooming down the tracks, one right after the other at dizzying speeds. Trains passed by all evening in the filthy subway station, and kids coming back from trick-or-treating rushed for the doors in their costumes every time with the innocence of childhood, unaware of what tragic anniversary it was. They had no idea of what happened last Halloween and would probably never know. The Widow knew very well what price had been paid the previous year. She sat on a bench in perfect silence, motionless as a statue in her plaid topcoat, waiting for the last train to come. Soon, the running kids were nothing but colorful blurs dashing across her field of view, mere disturbances in a steady river of sorrow.

It was scheduled for a quarter to midnight. Time could not fly fast enough. Every five minutes, the Widow glanced at her watch, hoping for an hour to have gone by. A cleaning employee stopped by her side around half past ten.

“Are you alright Ma’am?” he asked, putting the mop back in his bucket. “You’ve been here for a while now, I saw you getting in when I was washing upstairs. Waiting for someone?”

“Yes,” she answered. “My husband.”

“Alright then. He’s a lucky man. My wife definitely would have ditched me if I made her wait for two hours.”

“I suppose he is.”

Her answers were as absent-minded as spoken words could be. Not once did she look him in the eyes. The janitor asked no further questions and left. Children had now been replaced by club-goers. They laughed heartily and drunkenly, wobbling from side to side, still high from the thumping music at the Halloween venues. The Widow remained perfectly impassive, even as one man ogled her.

By a quarter past eleven, the dock was perfectly empty. The hands on her watch ticked ever so slowly from that point on. She looked at them every minute with unbearable impatience. The sound they made seemed ten times louder than it usually was. Tick. Tock. Tick Tock.

To stay focused, she examined every detail on the station walls. Not a hint of disrepair went unnoticed: the cracks between tiles, the outdated advertisements, the fading station labels… all of these numbed her brain and prepared her for what was soon to come.

A quarter to midnight came. The train still wasn’t there. Panicked thoughts stormed her mind. Had she missed it? Was it just late? Could service be delayed. Minutes passed, and there were still no signs of the vehicle. Just as she was about to rush upstairs to question the man at the ticket booth, a noise grew louder from the tunnel. It was coming. She wasted no time and ran for the rails, ready to jump. There was no need for her brain to process it, for all reasoning had been cast aside. The Widow closed her eyes and found herself hovering over the edge of the dock.

The train zoomed by. She could still hear the noise. How could she still hear the noise? It was impossible. One wasn’t supposed to hear noises in the afterlife, that’s what the medium said: all senses are expected to go numb. She opened her eyes and found herself on the dock. Doors closed along every wagon, and train pursued its journey down the tunnels. The Widow struggled to believe it. Somehow, she had survived. Her heart was still beating, and her lungs were still breathing.

“That was close. Real close.”

The Widow got up and turned around. An old man stood by her side. He must have pulled her away from the train.

“Did you—” she began, unable to complete the sentence.

“Stop you from jumping?” completed the Old Man. “I certainly did. Couldn’t let a beautiful woman like you end up in a situation like that.”

“You had no business meddling with this. It meant something to me.”

“Whatever it meant, I’m sure we can find better meaning elsewhere. Let’s sit down.”

“I’m not sitting down with someone like you. The last thing I need right now is for someone to pretend to be my savior.”

“Did I say such things? I never said I saved you. I said I stopped you. Let’s talk it through.”

He sat on the very bench that had been her home through the night. Reluctantly, the Widow put one foot in front of the other and assumed the same focused position again, avoiding any form of eye contact with her benefactor.

“I suggest we go straight for the heart of it,” he whispered. “What did all of this mean?”

“Nothing.”

“You said it meant something to you.”

“Nothing that concerns you, that is.”

“Do you have children?”

“Yes, not that it’s any of your business.”

“Should your children be concerned with this mysterious meaning you sought so desperately? I’m sure they would have asked a lot of questions.”

The Widow lowered her head, shadows of embarrassment drifting across her face.

“Deep down inside, they would have understood. They’re grown up now, they don’t need me.”

“I doubt it. One never understands these things. I’m afraid they leave puzzles behind that can’t be truly solved. Besides, you always need your mother, no matter how old you are.”

“I just wanted to be with my husband again.”

“There you go, we’re getting somewhere.”

The Widow pulled out tissues from her pockets and tried to dry the sobs that were surging inside of her before they could even appear on her face.

“What happened to your husband?” asked the Old Man.

“He died here a year ago precisely. A kid tripped on the tail of his dinosaur costume and fell on the tracks. He jumped to save the kid and had time to put him back on the dock. He didn’t have enough time for himself though.”

The sobs intensified. For a moment, the Widow felt as if the Old Man was about to put his arm around her shoulders, but he remained distant. Something was holding him back.

“That’s a tragic story for sure. The last thing we need is a second tragic story to go with it.”

“I miss him so much, I can’t even explain it. It’s like a void that can’t be filled.”

“Your husband was a brave man. You’re just as brave, and the best way to prove it is to go hug your children tomorrow morning. He’ll hug you through them. I’m sure that’s the hug he really wants. The hug of life and love.”

The Widow’s sobs finally dried up. As unexpected as it was, the Old Man’s words had touched her heart. Perhaps he did save her after all.

“Thank you. I mean it.”

“Don’t worry about it. You should go now.”

“Yes, I should.”

Slowly but with certainty, she walked up the stairs leading back to the outside doors. The Old Man watched every step of the way. Once he knew for sure the Widow was headed for safety, his face transformed into that of another man, slightly younger, and his body glowed with a ghostly light. He walked back towards the edge of the dock, vanishing as he reached the rails. For the second year in a row, he had saved someone on Halloween night. All was well.