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Just a Train?

I boarded the train at Dartford Railway station, a quick trip to London to see an old friend. I had not told him that I was coming on a visit I wanted to surprise him. The compartment was empty the next staion the train stopped and a man got into the compartment I was in. He sat down opposite me and stared at me. I did not like his permanent staring and asked him if he knew me. No he did not know me and I asked him why he was staring so intensely at me.

Sorry he said but I am not really here in this compartment I died three days ago. I was told to board this train and a man would tell me what I have to do next. I am just a dead man looking for the next move. Can you help me? I did not know whether to tell him that I have no idea about what happens when someone dies. No I could not help him. Perhaps I said you have got into the wrong compartment. The man you want is perhaps in another compartment. The train stops again in a few minutes perhaps you should have a look in some other compartment.

The train stopped again in Woolwich and thank goodness the man left the compartment I was in. I closed my eyes and had a little nap to get over this man that told me he had died. The train pulled in to the next station and stopped. I opened my eyes and was more than surprised to see the so-called dead man sitting opposite me again. His stare was upsetting. I quickly got up from my seat and left the compartment and went into a compartment well away from where I had boarded the train. The train’s whistle blew and with a jerk it moved out of the station the next stop was Waterloo. Suddenly the dead man walked through the wall of the compartment and sat once again opposite me.

I looked him in the eyes and told him that he was now a Ghost and that I knew nothing about Ghosts he should look afor perhaps a Priest or some clergical person. They would be able to help him bit I certainly was not the right man and she should stop following me. I was tired of his presnce and his habit of walking through wall was very upsetting. If I was you I would go back to my home and lie myself down in my own bed and wait to see what happens. A relation would find him and do the right thing for him but I was definitely not the man that could hellp him as I had absolutely no knowledge of dead men or woman if it it came to that.

I last saw him walking away from my friend’s house. I told my friend of my encounter with the dead man. He thoight it was a great joke and had a good laugh. Did you really believe the man was dead? Did he really walk through the walls of the train compartment? Or have you had too many drinks before leaving Dartford. I realised that my friend did not believe me and thought that I the scribbler was having a joke at his expense. I also think that none of you the readers of my stories will believe me and I am not going to try and introduce the dead man to you. Either you believe me or you don’t. Your scribbler Bern.