*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1565360-Point-B
Rated: 18+ · Chapter · Other · #1565360
First draft of the opening to my sci-fi horror short story. Please comment.
“Wake up, Jill”

No graffiti or ‘great fuck’ phone numbers scribbled on the sides, no gum-and-fag-butt pies baked to the seats. No improbably large phalluses, finger-drawn in breath condensation on the windows. No piss and cider stink in the air, or bearded Beanie slouched at the back, drinking cider, trying to look like he hasn’t pissed himself. This is not the London Underground.

Jill is curled up, listening to a glib inner narrative, dazedly clocking the details of the cabin through half-open, bloodshot eyes. It has a pristine pearl interior, mirror polished seat handles, unblinking, ultra-luminous bar-lights embedded in the sterile-white roof, and a glossy, ribbed tan upholstery.

She isn’t yet asking herself where she is or how she got here. She isn’t yet questioning why her clothes and jewellery have been removed, or why her head has been shaved.

“Wake up, Jill” says the voice. “We are approaching our first stop”

She can feel a faint vibration all around her. For a second she thinks she has fallen asleep on the sun bed at the spa, but the dry-mouth spin is evening out, and her senses are returning.

“Our first stop?”

Suddenly she is awake, sits upright, her pupils sharpen and dart around like flies trapped in jam jars.

“What? What the fuck?!” she coughs, cupping her breasts and lifting her knees up to her chin.

“Be calm, Jill” says the voice.

It is coming from a square inch black mesh tannoy, built into a panel directly above her.

“Calm?! What is this shit? Where are my clothes? What‘s going on?”

“You are on a train”

The voice is robotic, monotonous. Calm.

“We have a number of stops to make. At each stop, you will get off the train, complete the assignment, and board again. The train will not continue passage until the assignment is complete. If the train does not reach its destination on time, you will be dead”

“Dead? What do you mean ‘dead’? Fucking hell, tell me what‘s going on! Please!” - fear swelling.

“This is not hell. You are not dead yet. On your left wrist you have a watch. If you tamper with the watch, you will lose your arm. Proceed”
© Copyright 2009 Odd_One_Out (sewer_swan at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1565360-Point-B