Hey! This is something that I decided to write. It's a bit weird, so I can understand if you don't like it. Please review anyway as I will really appreciate it even if it is constructive criticism. Thanks! :) Oh and if you can think of a better title tell me, I can't think of anything half decent at all.

He Stares.


He stares at me. His eyes are the colour of death and they stare right into my soul reading what even I can't in an instance. I close my eyes in an attempt to shut out his penetrating stare. It doesn't work. Almost hypnotically I am forced to open my eyes only to look into his black pools of colour. I am helpless in his gaze.

I never liked trains in the first place, not at night anyway. They steam ahead, the rocking of the carriages lulling you into a false sense of security. A sense of safety, like nothing can happen to you as the train slowly rocks, the rhythmic vibrations travelling through your body. Backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards. Your body starts to relax as you absent-mindedly stare at the passing blurred lights in the darkness outside. People come and people go, exiting the train to go places: their homes, work, hospital, wherever. It's the people that don't go that I like the least. The ones that stay and stare and stare, right at you.

'The Auchenflower to Central station will arrive on platform three in approximately two minutes. Please wait behind the yellow safety line until the train has stopped,' the speakers blare out, the harsh noise reverberating throughout my head as I stand on the platform struggling to fight through the sleep induced stupor. The haze around my mind begins to clear as the morning sun shines violently into my eyes. I'm not a morning person and 6:28am certainly classifies as morning. I close my eyes momentarily but sleep again threatens to overtake me so I shade my eyes with my hand. I sharply exhale as I see the train powering up to the station, closer and close as every second passes. Each second that disappears into the past means the closer work is. I don't enjoy work, my dull existence in a complex web of bribery, sordid love affairs, sexist macho influential men and that's only to name a few. I don't understand what he sees in me, what he can get out of me. He knows I have a boyfriend, he knows I'm not interested in him in any conceivable or inconceivable way. He's old enough to be my father anyway.

The train slows to a stop, the sun bouncing off the carriages and onto the platform. I methodically step into the train, appreciating the lack of people and noise in the carriage. The silence is broken by the pitiful wail of a young baby. I cringe, as the screech seems to echo throughout the carriage and every space within it. I am not a morning person and babies' yelling doesn't put me in a good mood. They piss me off, in a bad way. Can't mothers just shut them up, I dunno, give them a dummy or something as long as peace and quiet is resorted. The baby doesn't shut up but seems to scream at a level that would give a foghorn a run for its money.

'Shut the fuck up!' I say, the words tripping off my tongue instinctively before I am able to stop them. The young mother stares at me, her eyes and mouth open in shock, like a deer caught in a car's headlights. Stunned, confused, her face is a mixture of emotions but these quickly merge into one. One of anger.

'How dare you say that! What is your problem?' she furiously says before taking the screeching baby into another carriage. I sigh heavily. I can feel the bad vibes oozing off the other people in the carriage, their glares and emotions suffocating me in a blanket of shame and guilt. Suddenly I am ripped from my thoughts by a stare. I can feel the eyes bore into my mind. Cautiously raising my head I spy the person who is staring at me. It is him. I can't believe it and gasp in undisguised shock. Why is he catching this train when he lives away from this line? Sweat slowly starts to gather on my brow, making it moist and sweaty, like being outside in the sweltering humidity of the tropics.

He rises slowly. His stance is one of anticipation and excitement and other emotions which I don't even want to think about. Urgently I look around for somewhere to escape to, somewhere to get out of this personal hell. He stares right at me. Suddenly the train slows to a stop. I jump up and scurry to the door, attempting to merge into the meagre crowd. I escape, staring ahead, not looking anywhere else. I leave the station and get onto the bus which is about to leave. As it moves off I am sure I hear a voice yelling 'Sam, Sam Matherson.' A voice yelling my name. His voice.my name.

TBC ************************************************************************