He just reached the station in time and jumped on to the train as it was leaving. Damnit, he thought, another close one. He stood by the door for a moment, catching his breath, and lit a cigarette. Calmly, Ian Jeremy Fawkes III reviewed the uncanny happenings so far that day, only to conclude they made no goddamn sense. I mean, you wake up having a horrible dream about your ex-wife, then you almost kill yourself by suddenly and unconsciously starting to dance to a The Who song in a driving lesson (and Ian was not a fan of “Los Quien”, mind that), and to add to an overall mood of fear and paranoia, you see strange bespectacled men garbed in black trenchcoats just about anywhere (it’s midsummer, for Christ’s sake!). Anyone in his place would be as confused as he is, I reckon.
Nevertheless, Ian put out his nicotine injector and walked into the carriage. Imagine his surprise when the surrounding photons make contact with his retina, and his brain frenzily points out that all the passengers are wearing dark sunglasses and black trenchcoats. Fear and loathing in a Train? Indeed, but our friend managed to gather all his strength, and slithered past them as fast as he could. Mid-carriage he noticed something that would change that trip: a briefcase sporting a sticker saying “Sunglass and Trenchcoat Convention – Lisbon 2005”. It was that very day! Mystery solved, he threw himself onto the only available seat and proceeded to read the newspaper.
Oh, and since this is a pseudo-experimental short-story by a stubbornly-won’t-abide-to-the-rules promising young writer, there is an important fact (there is always one, usually disclosed mid-story to provide the following events with a minimum of logic) about Mr. Fawkes: he can foresee people’s deaths by touching them. As you can imagine, he doesn’t brag around too much about this, and I guess it may have something to do with the fact that when he predicted his best friend’s death, it happened five minutes later (It was a bowling ball avalanche. Unpredictable at best, as you may know). This gruesome event shocked Ian to the very core of his being, and he to this very day is a very sad, depressive and overall pitiful person.
And as usual, he was having a very bad day. To add to the morning events, he was going to visit his future mother-in-law, and we all know what a terrible prospect that can be, but Susie’s mother seemed to really go out of her way to make Ian wish he’d never been born, or even planned. He wished he could foresee HER death, and instantly would not be too soon. And a slow, agonizing one would be something Ian would eat popcorn at. You see, Ian also fantasises with deaths a lot, albeit only those of his hated ones. To make you understand that is the point of this ramble.
Presently, as the lunch trolley sailed through the corridor, something happened and the train lurched and screeched in a most horrible manner. Ian accidentally touched the trenchcoat-clad man by his side, and his uncanny power worked in his head. He could see a hellish picture of twisted steel, rivers of blood and horrible disfigured bodies floating in something white and foamy. Not your everyday conforting thought, if you consider that five minutes later the train derailed, crashed violently into a ravine, and then fell into the river, nothing more than debris and pieces of human meat. As it figures, everyone died, and poor Ian Jeremy Fawkes III with them. I told you he was having a bad day.
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