The White Line

4 dollies lined up all in a row. Each lying on the floor, the soot filled floor on the tracks.

The wheels on the bus go round and round

round and round

round and round

Underneath the tracks their own hide and seek game, lying perfectly still I peek underneath and there they were on the track, those old dirt ridden floor. Only when I see their giggling faces I wonder if they really are just dolls.

The wheels on the bus go round and round

round and round

round and round

All dressed in bright red, dulled by the red-room effect of the subway station. The distant roar of the train and the red dress on the black tracks shake in glee. They clap their hands and yell out happy songs. I had to turn away, seeing as there was nothing or no one who could get them out. Their thin bodies a red stain on the black line, waiting for the 'it' to catch them and their hide and seek game to conclude. I heard stories of run over bodies, of all the blood and charred flesh. With my own exhaustion, I just didn't want to see the end of the four dolls-not-dolls.

Train comes closer, much closer, keeps getting closer and with four quick splattering sounds, like a box of watermelons being dropped, its over. Then I wonder if it really happened at all. The one car subway opens its doors and everyone walks in.

Did I hallucinate? My own sick state and the hypnotically dim light of the station seems to say that was the case. Who would walk in a ride that cheerfully ran over 4 girls? I just did apparently. The driver greeted us in his rundown fun house. Six people fit in the subway car. The graywashed interior had a strange feeling of being both comforting and disgustingly run-down. Like being in a cell thats been rundown for ten years and finding out everything in there is made of discarded childhood furniture. The boxes, the dusty velvet seats, the too bright lighting all seemed to create a numbing effect.

And I still kept thinking about those girls...

To drown out my thoughts and fight away the exhaustion I plot myself to the floor and put on headphones. My back to the doors the subway took off, out of the tunnel and into the over-city rail tracks. In front of me is a timid middle aged woman, shopping bags all around her. She smiles in embarassement as she notices me watching her. To my left a young woman with red curly hair, she sprawls her arms to take up all three seats in the back. To my right were two or three people, they're hard to see. The driver keeps on talking though all I hear is music. Truthfully it's pretty frustrating to see him talk and not being able to hear anything. In front of him, past all the buttons and dials of the subway I see the entire city. It was unnaturally bright, like a TV contrast turned up to its maximum, the blistering summer heat and oppressive sun shone so brightly it made the city look like a desert. I feel something slither up to my lap. I look down. A cat. Surprised I turn around to see who the animal belonged to, but everyone is frozen in their previous poses. Sprawling, smiling, hiding, talking. With all of that there was an illusion that there were more people than just us. It just makes me very uncomfortable. I'm extremely, unexplainably, tense. Maybe it was the daydream (I decided it really was just a daydream) if the blood splattered bridesmaids neatly cleaved by tire track scars. Maybe its how everyone around me seems frozen in time, and I'm starting to blend in too. My senses tightened up and I remove my headphones to make sure I'm in full alertness. Damn, there was a loud piercing sound that you'd expect from a factory, must be the white noise effect of listening on headphones. The cat fell asleep on my lap and I pet it to calm myself down. But then I decide, I don't care how long I'll have to walk, I'm getting off at the next station.

This invisible threat to my safety made the seconds unbearable. It was like all those times the subway suddenly stops on the tracks and you keep imagining all sorts of crazy scenarios- doomsday cults gas attacks and terrorist plots and Jason Vorhees the little boy in the big city. But still, all those times I never left, and there's nothing tangible like the subway stopping to make me feel this way. You bet, though, that this time I am going to get off the next station. Hell if we weren't above ground I would've pryed the doors open and jump off. The station comes in view, the brick hanging skyscrapper towering over the whole boiling city. It couldn't come close enough.

When we reached the station the same horrifying splatter noise announces the stop. I jolt myself up, nearly falling on the woman. The doors wouldn't open.

"This is your exit?" the driver's yellow teeth shine.

I say nothing. Then I realize he wouldn't open the door until I said something. No one else was on the other side waiting to get in (a very wise choice!). There was only an endless whine like a boiling kettle.

"Yes," I finally say, humoring the old man.

"No it's not," he laughed.

"Just let me out!" Only when I said those words and my body relaxed did I realize how much this ride has made me tense.

"If you say so."

The door opened and I flew back, this time I did fall over the woman. She screamed, but not at me.

Passangers. On the ground, arms formed in unnatural angles and long hair like feelers swallowing the blood it threw up. The seemingly endless line of girls in red, former victims of this machine, all looking for a ride. The first one crawled in, gurgling, coughing blood then sucking it back in with her blonde hair. I see her entrains dangling off the lower half of the dress like an octopus. She raises her hand.

FUCK

I thought I yelled but there was no reaction or sound. The cat was still purring away and everyone was doing their own thing. Outside the skyscrappers were still baked by the summer oven and the station was so far away.

"First station"

Being in silence for so long, the voice was startling. All attention is fixed on the driver, who leaves his seat to meet us with a terrible sneer. As he gets up, this unberable kettle whining sound turns into a roar. Like a jet engine, like a bomb siren, like the trumpet of the day of judgement. All coming from the subway from all angles.

"First station, first person."

Everyone whimpers at this statement so I couldn't help but be afraid. But even as that awful sound just keeps getting worse I seem to be the only one who hears it.

"Since you screamed you'll be first."

He goes to the lady, the timid woman who saw the army of octopus girls with me. But she's being chosen first because she screamed? That's so unfair! She only screamed in my imagination.

A needle in his hand he uses his free hand to raise her head. The way she smiles at him in sickening. Like a puppy who licks the hand of the psycho kid before the freak lights the dog on fire. But her smile also says "please don't do it" with trembling lips. Somethings sticking out from the back.

A hatchet.

I had to stop him, stop his needle as it injects whatever poison in the trembling arm. Fear, panic, comfort, apathy, confusion. Its like everything in this cramped space beats the senses into total compliance. I have to get out at the next station. It seems even further away. The entire city air is ash-thick with humidity it fogs up the window. The girl and the two guys look, stare at the driver's act. Despite feeling very incredibly sick at this act, it's like I have no choice but to watch. He used his weapon with a boredom fit for an expert. Too confused and shocked to see proper details, though we're all staring statues. It was exactly what I'd expect from a master butcher seperating the meat from the bones, snapping off the tendons. It was a sight so disgusting my mind just shut off, disconnected itself from the neausiating air.

The scenery shifted and the cieling was a bright white- I had fallen into the subway station. A big limp fell on my chest and died there. I look up to see the cat who had slept on my lap. Except heavier. Much heavier. With an axe neatly splitting the feline's head. Judging from the demonic driver's expression that weapon was aimed at me.

Unthinkingly I run away, twisting with the corridors. I don't know how close anyone is but I can clearly hear footsteps behind me. Four giant pillars signalled the littered exit, bright sun creeping in. Outside was nothing more than a series of labyrinths. Walls were hidden behind the hundred, thousands, of people obscured by the too bright lighting. The edge overlooks the city below, I'm afraid my head will tip the balance and make me fall. Following my footsteps, twisting between the rows of seated peoplecame the driver.

Honestly those bored spectators frighten me more than the murderer. All those blank expressions were too motionless, its unnatural. Th murderor inched his way towards me, as if the screeching whhine was a force that was slowing him down. I won't even try moving as I don't know which direction will make me fall down. Its as if every single bulb in a lighting factory lit up at once- a hell of bright lights and dark faces. The demon, fighting off whatever was slowing him down, lunges towards me, I guess as blinded as I am, and ends up taking that wrong step.

More strange colors. The bloodied and battered little girls are seated among the bored faces and sing.

Five monks it took to ring the bell

Can you fight the devil?

Can you escape from hell?