hell’s express
It’s an infinite train underground.
In front of you and behind you, as far as you can see, stainless steel guardrails flanking plastic seats with cheap abstract.
There’s no conductor, but the occupants are the damned. With time, resources run out, human excrement accumulates.
Industrial construction is overlayed by a newer, never-ending tunnel of rotting flesh and waste – society long decomposed to carnal volitions. Factions arise, dividing cannibalistic spoils. Babies are only borne to be eaten.
After a millennia of war and digestive torture, you and your closest friend are the last to remain. As they sleep, you ambush them, sinking your teeth into the weathered neck – the vile, familiar flavor making you writhe in disgust as your hunger pushes you over the edge.
A bubbling hum forms in your throat as you gaze at a window. A figure returns your gaze through the bloodied fingerprints and fractures, obscuring the faded plexiglass and your humanity.
Depraved, you are a worm.
There’s a sound, familiar, yet distinct. Your throat trembling with a scream named agony.
And in your exasperated madness you begin to tear at your own flesh, digging beneath layers of connective tissue to hopefully excavate what you once called yourself. But not until your consciousness begins to drain alongside your veins…
And you wake up.
You’re on an infinite train underground. In front of you and behind you, as far as you can see, stainless steel guardrails…