End of The Line

By C.G. Durrant

Cyrus doesn’t know why he’s standing on the platform, or why he decides to board the train when it rumbles into the station.
He struggles with recollection and finally finds a glimmer of his past, of his life that brings to life horrors aboard that he must escape.
Stop the train...change your fate.

• Language: English
• Publisher: C.G. Durrant
• Release date: Jun 24, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370099474

C.G. Durrant

Colin lives in Milton Keynes in Buckinghamshire with his wife and two daughters. He has never been one for taking centre stage and has always preferred to be the string-puller of his creations, operating in the background, allowing himself the guise of heroes and heroines...and on occasion, villains and monsters. Colin has been interested in writing for some time and has toiled away on his stories in one form or another, finding an escape between the pages of books, shaping his taste for the macabre. He loves reading Dean Koontz and Clive Barker during his spare time. Modest and humble as a hamster, Colin has always found it easier to write about others fictitiously than to write about himself...err factitiously. By adopting the third person narrative, Colin understands the risk of developing dissociative identity disorder, leading to a Norman-Bates-Like existence that may or may not be conducive to the development of character structure in his fictional stories. Colin is a fantastic writer, and it is inevitable that he’ll one day rule the world through his writing...from his office in his motel.

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End of The Line

By C.G. Durrant

Copyright © 2017 Colin Durrant

All rights reserved

Published by Colin Durant

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people without risk of sanctions governed by international treaties and laws.

Thank you.

Chapter One

Cyrus glanced along the platform to the digital notification board. It read just after midnight, then in a scrolling of text informed him that the next service would arrive in five minutes… no delays expected. He took a few steps closer, scrutinising the sign. Manchester, he muttered. He couldn’t recall anyone or anything there that would necessitate a train journey. He looked over his shoulder, beyond the stairs to a distance that his eyes could not reach. Was his car parked somewhere up there? Did he even own one?

He pulled his focus back to a suited man who rushed toward him. He’s not going to go around. The bastard’s… Cyrus leapt backwards, avoiding a collision. Hey. No response. Hey, pal. You blind or something? Nothing. Cyrus saw himself shoving the man off the platform. He felt the frenzied surge of watching the terror fill the man’s eyes for that split second before a speeding train took him apart. He shook his head, dispelling the horror of that imagined spectacle.

He heard the train coming long before it arrived, a soft rumble under-toned by the erratic hiss of electricity in the overhead wires. It was pulling in slowly… that much he knew. It ground to a stop, doors opening amid a rush of liberated gas as pistons came to rest. He waited for passengers to disembark before boarding. The few people he could see seated stayed where they were. He stepped over the threshold.

He took a seat as the doors whooshed to a close. He didn’t notice the woman sitting to his right until he caught her reflection in the darkened window. He turned to her, momentarily captivated by her vacant stare, the rigidness of her stature. You okay? He waited, for something… anything: a nod, a huff, a turn of the head. It seemed to be the night for being ignored, he thought. He looked over his shoulder passed a man who wore that same expression, to a woman who now smiled at him. He grinned then grimaced, feeling that ache in the back of his head work around to his temple.

He touched his fingers to his head before bringing them into view. Blood. Only a smear, but it was there. He saw past that and into the blackness of vague recollection. He had fallen. He was pushed… both… neither. Shit. He turned to the window, examining his face amid partial transparency. As far as he could