Last year, my friend Jane and I studied art history for a
semester in Rome, Italy.
After studying for exams at the library late one night we decided to walk to the subway
and take it home instead of the usual bus route. This kind
of creeped us out because the Roman subway is empty and
desolate in the evenings. Plus, the platforms and tunnels
are black, the lights are dim, and we never saw security
guards, etc. down there. So needless to say we were
apprehensive but we wanted to get home quickly so we
decided to risk it.
When we got there, we wanted to buy
tickets but all 4 automatic machines were out of order,
which was kind of weird. So we had no choice but to walk
through the turnstiles, (which is possible in Rome).
We headed towards the escalator, but at our approach its
soothing hum suddenly stopped and it grinded to a halt. We
figured this was because the last train was about to come
and they didn’t want any more people using the escalator.
Because of this we raced down the steps to ensure we
wouldn’t miss it, but as we neared the bottom, the
escalator suddenly lurched to life and made us lose our
balance.
Jane was ahead of me and took the brunt of the
force, falling and scraping her knee. I helped her up and
we cursed the Italian subway system for their stupid
escalators. It was then that we felt a cold gust of wind,
signifying that the train was on its way. Jane brushed
herself off and we got ready to get on. But when it came
into view we realized it was going too quickly and
unfortunately it was one of those empty “out of order”
trains on its way to the end of the line. All the
compartments of the train were dark, and we were just
about to sit down and wait for the next one, when we
noticed the last compartment was illuminated. It was at
that moment that we saw the most horrific vision of our
lives. There in the dead center of the compartment sat a
tall, old man. He was dressed in a black suit and tie and
he sat extremely erect with his hands on his knees. But
what really got to us was the fact that he wore sunglasses
at night and in the subway. Even though we couldn’t tell
if he was focusing on us (due to the sunglasses) his
entire being radiated malevolence. Almost hypnotized we
fixed our gaze on the retreating figure and then on the
retreating car. Through the back window we saw him in
profile as the train sped away and to our horror his head
was now turned to us, silent and motionless. Then he was
gone.
We tried to come up with some kind of logical explanation.
Could he have been a friend or family member of the
driver? But if so, why was he sitting in the last
compartment? Why was he wearing sunglasses? And why this
air of palpable evil?
A few minutes later, the next train
arrived, and to our relief, it was full of Romans going
home for the night. I realize that the terrible man we saw
could have just as well have been a real person, but
something tells Jane and I that our experience really
began with the malfunctioning ticket machines and the
seemingly hostile escalator. And you will never be able to
persuade us from our certainty that that old man was not
among the living.
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