sm_monthly Aug 7 theme
Oh the existentialist ghost stories you write when you have to cross busy tracks at least four times a day.
Title: They Never Stop
Author: purplekitte
Theme: Meioh Setsuna--Whisper
Genre: Ghost story
Version: Anime
Rating: PG
“You should go around.” Maybe he spoke loudly in truth but over the sound of the rushing trains only a whisper of his voice could be heard. “There is a curse on this place.”
She stood next to him behind the safety bar, the blinking red lights illuminating the young woman and the old man in turn, the warning claxon never-ending as orange arrows pointed both ways on an electric boar.
“Go to the next crossing point two blocks up. This one hasn’t been in use for a long time.”
She didn’t answer.
“There have been those who haven’t headed my warnings before. Punk kids. They see the gap between the north and south running train and think they can make it before the next one. They’re always just a second too slow.”
“Who put the curse on this place?” Her voice was a whisper but perfectly audible.
“My wife said if I was always running to the trains but never to her than so be it. I’ve been waiting here for thirty years to apologize to her. No greater a loss than I made of the first thirty years of my life.”
“I can stop time.” In the dream world of a curse she was not a schoolgirl with a bizarre staff but a witch, a mythical creature, a goddess. “Give you that one second.”
The old man creakily ducked under the bar but when he ran it was with the vigor of youth. He had watched for ages and knew the rhythm of the trains by heart.
One-two-three-four for the section semi express, pause-two-three, the express train one-two-three--
When he looked back through the next gap in the trains the girl with the staff was gone. Time ticked on.
Title: They Never Stop
Author: purplekitte
Theme: Meioh Setsuna--Whisper
Genre: Ghost story
Version: Anime
Rating: PG
“You should go around.” Maybe he spoke loudly in truth but over the sound of the rushing trains only a whisper of his voice could be heard. “There is a curse on this place.”
She stood next to him behind the safety bar, the blinking red lights illuminating the young woman and the old man in turn, the warning claxon never-ending as orange arrows pointed both ways on an electric boar.
“Go to the next crossing point two blocks up. This one hasn’t been in use for a long time.”
She didn’t answer.
“There have been those who haven’t headed my warnings before. Punk kids. They see the gap between the north and south running train and think they can make it before the next one. They’re always just a second too slow.”
“Who put the curse on this place?” Her voice was a whisper but perfectly audible.
“My wife said if I was always running to the trains but never to her than so be it. I’ve been waiting here for thirty years to apologize to her. No greater a loss than I made of the first thirty years of my life.”
“I can stop time.” In the dream world of a curse she was not a schoolgirl with a bizarre staff but a witch, a mythical creature, a goddess. “Give you that one second.”
The old man creakily ducked under the bar but when he ran it was with the vigor of youth. He had watched for ages and knew the rhythm of the trains by heart.
One-two-three-four for the section semi express, pause-two-three, the express train one-two-three--
When he looked back through the next gap in the trains the girl with the staff was gone. Time ticked on.