A very sad man stood on one of the rafters at the train station, high above the ground. He could hear the soft whistle of the number nine train in the background. He knew today would be the day that he would leave this earth, and head on into the next realm, or whatever awaited him.
"Probably hell," he thought.
He heard another whistle, slightly louder now, and then he felt the shaking of the station as one of the trains chugged in. It was cherry red and had a shiny gold trim. It puffed around the track fast and efficiently. It reminded him of when he was happy, going through life without a care, but the war had changed him. He saw many of his friends murdered. Shot, set on fire, drowned, bombed. He felt bad for them, but he knew they were in a better place. He stood high above the busy station, taking it all in, when a child, no older than five, poked his mom and pointed at him. She screamed and many others looked up. Their mouths open, and their eyes wide with fear or shock.
He took a step forward, and as he did, he saw the mom cover her son's eyes. It was windy up there, and his long coat blew around in the air. More people gathered around to see him. Two more steps and he would be dead on the tracks. He smiled, thinking of it all being over and the warmth of death. He wished for the end.
As his feet moved again, he saw police cruisers through the window, sirens flashing. Then he heard the low whine of a fire truck, its horn booming. He edged a bit further. It wasn't much of a step, but he could now see clearly where his life would end. As the police and fire fighters ran in with a ladder, he sat down, his feet dangling over death. Another train rolled in. It was blue and silver, and it moved much quicker than the red one. It felt like his heart, thumping fast and loudly.
As the ladder was pushed against the cold metal girders that he was sitting on, he saw a man climbing upwards towards him. He was fairly athletic, with tan skin, he looked a bit like him. The man on the ladder told him he had a lot to live for, and as they chatted together the man who five minutes ago wanted to die alone, was climbing down the ladder. Everyone was cheering; people were patting him on the back and talking loudly. The man on the speaker said, "Now boarding." The man took off his jacket to show the people in the station the last thing they would ever see.
A bomb. He wouldn't die alone.