Anya sprawls over the patterned seats of the train, and all the tension in her body loosens. A small lamp is all the light she has. She cranes her neck up and the rusty ceiling greets her.. The bitter and caustic smell of diesel burning attacks her nose, but she welcomes it. This is it. Finally, after all this time—she’s done it! This is the end, this is her victory, escaping the place she once called home.

It’s not like she hates the rolling hills or the murky water. But the truth is that she outgrew this little village a long time ago, in the same way girls stop playing with dolls. Everything seemed to trap her, cage her to this land. No, no, she was made for the city, made for the restless life, late nights and strobing lights.

She shifts in her seat, and starts sorting through her belongings. She loosens the straps of her bag and shoves her suitcase under her seat. She doesn’t remember when the overwhelming voice that told her to get away started, the voice that told her day in and day out that her small town was not where she was meant to be—but she knew she was made for something more. Something bigger.

The train shakes and hisses, and the wheels begin to turn round and round. The metallic whipping of the train against the tracks is all she can hear, despite the sounds of many families bidding their children goodbye and reunions long due.

The lights of the train station fade behind her and darkness is all she can see. Her cabin is meant for two, yet the other person isn’t here. Maybe no one else booked the other half? Well then, it would only be reasonable if she went and took the pillows and blanket for herself, after all it’ll be a cold night—

A light rhythmic tap beats across the door and startles her. Anya switches on the ceiling light and fluorescence fills the room. She stands up, approaching the door. She can’t describe it but her head is pounding.

“This is cabin 4B, correct?” a smooth voice asks and the train sways, taking a sharp left turn. Anya closes her eyes, nausea crawling up her throat. Why does that sound so familiar?

“Hello? Hello? Are you alright?” the woman repeats, and something about her seems off. Anya doesn’t know what’s causing this, where this weighted unease is coming from—but this woman isn’t normal.

“I’m fine, just give me a moment,” Anya mutters and she focuses on the woman’s silhouette, focuses on her sharp nose and striking eyes. The other woman holds herself with grace and moves towards her half of the cabin. Her steps are brief and assured, but it seems like she’s a puppet, something not human…

“Is there something wrong?” Anya keeps her mouth shut. Maybe she’s a bit paranoid, but better safe than sorry.

Anya sits down and the other woman does too, in the seat facing her. She leans against the wall and glances at the bunk bed above Anya. Her mannerisms are off, each twitching finger and wandering glance artificial and alien.

“It’s not good enough, is it?” she asks, a soft, sad smile on her lips. She doesn’t need to say anything else, it’s clear what she’s referring to from the dull gleam in her eyes. The woman folds her hands into her lap, awaiting Anya’s reply.

Anya knows the way animals move from watching her father herd sheep and her mother calm roosters. She knows the way people move too, and that? That thing was not human, nor animal. Her movements were robotic and her chest was so steady Anya wasn’t sure if she was breathing.

“No, it’s not.” It’s clear that lying would be pointless. Her sweat seeps through the fabric of her clothes, and she can’t decide if she wants to risk looking away or stay watching whatever that creature is.

An overwhelming silence fills the cabin and Anya’s eyes dart around. How can she get out of here?

The woman suddenly jumps across the seats, and her hand, cold and definitely not skin, cradles Anya’s jaw.

She pinches the skin around Anya’s neck. “Is this what I’m missing?” Her unwavering gaze meets hers and Anya’s body isn’t responding. Each of her breaths are shorter and shorter, the frosty air numbing her lungs.

The hand tips her head towards the window.

“Watch closely now. This is important.”

The next few moments pass in a blur. Or, it would have, if time itself didn’t seem to slow, dilating like the pupil of an eye.

A rumble travels through the ground, almost toppling the train like it’s nothing more than a toy tower. The train driver slams on the breaks, causing the wheels to skid against the steel tracks.

The dim lights flicker and the windows shatter. What was a ‘woman’ before melts and reshapes. The ceiling of the compartment tears like tissue paper and yet there is no sound. No noise. The world has collapsed into a bubble, with nothing coming in or out.

Anya keeps her eyes to the ground. Something grabs her and tilts her face to the sky. The hand—or so she thinks—scraps against her skin, encompassing her body and a warm breeze attacks her face as she’s lifted outside the tram cabin.

She can’t, she can’t look, she can’t think whatever has her isn’t like anything she knows and the tight pressure squeezes, unyielding. Anya tugs at whatever was trapping her, but it won’t let her go. Houses in the distance spread across in the distance, and the village that raised her would not let her go.

Writer – Areeba Zabrinatha
Editor – Ally Chu
Thumbnail – Photo by Justin Ziadeh on Unsplash

–October 2024–