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John W Townsend

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Member Since: May, 2009

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The Last Train Home
By John W Townsend
Thursday, June 04, 2009

Rated "G" by the Author.

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Imagine you step out of a train onto the station platform, but its not the same.

I was most fortunate to have caught the last train home, the bus is such an awful journey; and no bus was due for another hour.

well that was how it all seemed, fortunate, you see when I arrived at Layderasso Station it was dark, and my one concern was to get home. I recall the train started to leave, it was at that point something seemed odd. It had been an electric train I stepped onto, but this train that was leaving was puffing out smoke in volumes, it was a steam train, and the carriages were like those when I was a young boy.

I shook my head and dashed to the way out,There was a  ticket collector there, it sought of threw me, I had my season ticket that I always scanned at the barrier. I showed my season ticket to the ticket collector but he seemed a little bemused and smiled as he asked for my ticket. I tried to reason with him but it seemed I was talking to a man who knew nothing of what I was saying.

Outside I could see a bus arriving so I offered to pay, that made it all the worse, He looked at my money and looked at me saying, "Sir we do not take childrens toy money." "Alright!" I said "Here is my credit card, I will use that." What did |I do wrong? He looked at me with a stone cold face and said, "Lets not start playing games sir, I want to close the station for the night."

As he looked away I did a runner just as the bus was leaving, it was not the usual bus, perhaps a relief service, much older. The driver took no money said, "Its on me sir, I want to get home in a hurry, Here have this evening newspaper, I have finished with it."

When I arrived at my house I was shocked, it was not the same, no UVPVC windows, no glossy white front door, it was looking just as it did when it belonged to my parents. Even my key did not work on the door, but I thought it was my wife who was opening the door, then I saw it was my mother, yet she died twenty years ago. "Oh John, where have you been out with all those boys till late." I was shocked and blurted out that "I have just come home from work." She told me "Do not be cheeking me, now off to bed with you."

Why I did I cannot explain I went up the stairs and into the room that was mine when I was a small boy, and there I lay down and fell asleep.

You know, to this day I cannot explain it, because I woke up in my own bed next to my wife. What had happened was so real yet almost like a dream, at least until I went downstairs, there next to my briefcase was the newspaper that the bus driver gave me, I picked it up looked at the date, September 22 1964, this year is 2009. A cold shiver came over me, and I phoned in sick.



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Reviewed by Jean Pike 6/4/2009
Awesome story!

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