The 8:30 PM Train

Work had me drowning in my own thoughts. I couldn’t fathom getting all the bullshit done while grappling with a mid-life crisis. Feeling completely overwhelmed, I wanted to shut the world out. Finding some form of escapism in fiction seemed far-fetched. I was searching for my ideal platform; somewhere I could call home and feel at peace amidst my mental health narrative. The silence I was searching for seemed like a myth. I was down, depressed, and felt like I had nothing left for me. What was I supposed to do? Every quick fix was just that—a quick fix. I couldn’t find my remedy, and the more I searched for it, the further reality slipped away. On this particular day, I was over it; I was over life and everything it had to offer. I was done.

It was late, probably around 8 pm that evening, when I decided to give up. I left work earlier than usual and made it onto the subway platform. During the time spent waiting for my train and looking at the clock, I just knew it was going to happen soon. I dubbed it the death train. I had it all planned out. I knew that as soon as the eight-thirty train approached, I would seal my fate. I was going to make the jump. It was fast approaching, and I knew there was no room for hesitation. I was either going to jump or chicken out. My adrenaline was pumping, and my palms were sweaty. I had about five minutes left.

A mysterious woman waits at a foggy train station for the 8:30 PM train.

Each time I looked at my watch, the minutes crept by, and I realized my five minutes were over. Where the heck was the train, I thought. Of all the days for the subway train to be late, it had to be the day I decided to end my life. It seemed like everything was out of whack, and the universe told me, “not today.” So instead, I hopped on the late train, sat down, and went on with my life like any other day. The train was oddly uncrowded, and the people all seemed quiet, almost like a scene from a mental health narrative exploring escapism in fiction. Although very strange, I kept to myself and tried to wish the world away.

I must have fallen asleep because when I woke up, I found I was the last passenger on the subway train. I knew I was exhausted, but I didn’t realize the extent of my fatigue. As I looked out the window to see what stop I was at, the flickering lights in the tunnel made it difficult to read the signs. There seemed to be some technical issues, as the lights inside the train also started to flicker. It made me reflect on the mental health narrative surrounding escapism in fiction; with all the money spent on these trains, you would think they would invest in fixing or maintaining the electrical systems. I was seriously over it and just wanted to be home already.

Suddenly, I heard a low muddled female groan. "What the hell was that?" It felt like a scene straight out of a horror movie as the lights inside the subway train began to flicker uncontrollably. "This is ridiculous," I thought to myself, reflecting on the escapism in fiction that often portrays such eerie moments. Suddenly, the lights stabilized, and the train was semi-lit. I could see a young woman with long black hair seated at the far end of the train. The low muddled groan echoed again, and I wondered, "What is this? Where did she come from?" The lights flickered once more, and the groaning grew a little louder and closer. I grabbed my purse and began to get up. When the lights returned, the young woman was now nearer and had her back to me. Instead of the groaning sounds, I heard the soft sounds of her sobbing. "Hello?" I called out, "Are you okay?" I received no response. Suddenly, the muddled female groaning returned, and the lights began to flicker again. My eyes locked on the young woman as she slowly stood up from her seat. I started to back away, thinking, "Something's not right." Then, she raised her right arm and pointed towards the far end of the train, and I couldn't shake the feeling that this was more than just a mental health narrative playing out in front of me.

In the reflection of the subway train doors, I could see myself and a tall, dark hooded figure behind me. "NOOOOOOO!!!!!!" screamed the young woman, and as she cried, I could see in the reflection the black hooded figure floating upwards, arms stretched out towards me. I quickly turned around, but to my surprise, no one was there. "What’s happening?" I muttered aloud, and then a mysterious female voice whispered in my ear along with the stench of rotten flesh, "DEATH," she whispered, "Death is here." As I slowly turned around, I was faced with the young woman, a few inches from me, her eyes and mouth hollowed. As I attempted to escape her, a dark smoky mass emerged behind her and suddenly engulfed her. "No!" I screamed. I quickly turned around to run but tripped. As I turned over, the black mass hovered over me and began to wrap me in its darkness. In that moment, I felt an unsettling connection to escapism in fiction, as my mind raced and my heart pounded, mirroring a mental health narrative that I couldn’t escape. And just like that, my world disappeared.

On the night of May 27, 2014, at 8:30 pm, I found myself overwhelmed by a mental health narrative that led me to a tragic decision. In a moment of despair, I jumped in front of a subway train, seeking an escape that I felt could only be found in the realm of escapism in fiction.

THE END

Written by: Linda Ly

AI Art generated via Picsart, inspired by the themes of escapism in fiction and the exploration of mental health narratives, capturing the essence of a subway train story.

Disclaimer

If you are experiencing feelings of depression, thoughts of suicide, or self-harm, it's important to remember that help is available and you are not alone. Just as escapism in fiction can provide a temporary reprieve from harsh realities, there are real resources to support your mental health narrative. In the United States, you can reach out to the 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline by calling 988 or using their web chat service. Crisis workers are available 24 hours a day, seven days a week, ready to listen and assist you, much like the comforting stories found in a subway train story. Calls and chats are free of charge and completely confidential. For those in other countries or regions, visit the International Association for Suicide Prevention website to find a crisis center in your area.

The 8:30 PM Train

THE END

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