Most of what I write leans into horror or fantasy, usually with something magical, supernatural, or just a little off from reality. Strangers on a Train is different. There’s nothing otherworldly here. Just everyday fear. The kind that comes from silence, routine, and the things we never say out loud.
I wrote this about six months ago and have been tweaking it off and on since then. I think it’s finally ready. It’s a quiet piece about missed connections and the weight of what’s left unspoken.
I hope you enjoy!
They were strangers on a train.
Two leaves in a stream, adrift in tandem but never together.
The presence they shared, the words that weren’t, became their daily routine.
His eyes always down, hers always forward; and never the two did meet.
They were strangers on a train.
When one did not show, the other did miss, and upon their return the world was made whole once more.
Each had a name the other did not know, though each had wished to hear the other speak it.
They were strangers on a train,
Though they knew each other well.
They knew the other who lived in their dreams,
The one the other could never be.
The silence they shared was better than shattering the lies that lay between.
Together they were alone, but alone they were together.
They were strangers on a train.
Until there was but one.
The other was gone, and with them their promise.
Of words still unspoken, and lives left unlived, now apart they were truly alone.
So what could have been, and what would be, never the two did meet.
Mason Beck Fiction 
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