Short Story 1: Murder on the Train

'Prompt 1: Imagine you are on a train or at a train station when a murder takes place (500 words or less).'

Alice couldn’t remember much to be honest; her memory had always been a sieve but today it had been particularly shabby. Maybe because the events of this day had sent her mind into shock, scattering it into tiny pieces that seemed to fly away in the harsh breeze that had been blowing through the station. She tried to wrack her brain for the details before the Police came to question her as a witness. They seemed to be taking a while and it almost felt that they were talking to everyone except her but she knew it was coming. She’d watched enough murder mysteries to know how the story goes. 

Breathe.

Calm down.

Think.

Retrace every little detail of the events of that morning.

Alice couldn’t feel her feet anymore. Shock does that to you apparently. She tried to push the feeling away and focus. Think about what had happened this morning. She had said goodbye to Louis in her flat in Deptford, crossed town and arrived at New Cross Gate Station, a place with so many platforms yet so little elegance. Smeared graffiti lines the platform walls along with crude signs and language drawn on every bit of free space. She liked this though; it made her feel like an edgy Londoner. Candid photos infront of these edgy pieces of street art were her speciality.

STOP.

You’re thinking about irrelevant things, Alice.

Focus.

She’d sat down on a half broken bench, the wind biting at her cheeks. The train arrived and as she was about to board, that’s when it happened. A guy in a dark hoodie running from the scene. A gang following after. Blood seeping out of the wound inflicted on the body and a woman with a blue streak in her hair crying out for help. Alice could see the blue streak woman giving her statement to the police, speaking inbetween heavy sobs. Seeing her cry made Alice want to run over and hug her but she couldn’t move. She felt like ice.

The policeman finished with blue streak woman and finally headed towards Alice.

Think.

Breathe.

Speak.

However, he moved straight towards the paramedic stood just behind her.

            “Seems that this is another postcode war. A revenge stabbing of some sort,” the policeman said. Louis had mentioned postcode wars. There was a group of men that he and his gang had had a fight against the other day. Could it be the guys he had mentioned before? He’d always warned her to stay away from them.

            “We’ve identified the woman as Alice Hardy. Her license was in her pocket. She’s fading fast. We need to get her to the hospital now.”

Sorry.

What?

Did she just say my name?

It was then Alice looked down and saw her own face staring back up at her, crimson red smearing the white top and blue jeans she’d been wearing. She’d stepped over a postcode threshold.

A revenge stabbing.

What had Louis done?

The last question she thought as her outer-body self started to melt and the tunnel of light swept her up into the abyss.