Haunted Tales From An International Ghost Train

The spiderman is having you for dinner tonight! ~ The Cure

It was early afternoon on the graveyard shift. I’m certain it was a Saturday, for Saturday afternoons in the railway station were always. Dead. Quiet. Pins. Dropped. Not like on a loved up Friday. Or any of those other inbetween days.

I was manning Check-In all by myself. I was about to close the 14.53 train to Paris; the train was due in 10 minutes to the platform. Suddenly, a group of men with black ringed eyes, big black hair and long black coats flew in like ghosts. THE CURE WAS SO CLOSE TO ME!!! Just like heaven but internal panic at the disco. I radioed to terminal control that I had late running ghouls. Could I accept, over? Yes, go ahead – no boys would cry about missing their train if they just sang me a quick lullaby-lovesong first. (I made that last bit up.) I rapidly checked them in and waved them through security (go on, go on, just walk away). And with a swish of coat tails I never saw those lovecats again. So 15 years later here’s a picture of you, Robert Smith. You’re a bit creepy but I will always love you. Happy Hallowe’en, y’all!

Hallowe’en

31 October 2017

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