It was one of those train rides that lasted for hours, although I travel on the same route home every night after work. But tonight, I feel uninvitingly tired and I gave up on reading the new book I bought. Words starting dancing on the pages like stunted ballerinas. What was missing was Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake.
Still cluthing the book in my hands, I looked out the window. Black, very black. That was all I saw. Sometimes in such darkness, you tend to forget that creatures and beings exist beyond the little train compartment. Until the first strike of imagination leaps straight at you from a scene of a horror movie. It could be something as classic as Nightmare on Elm's Street to the disgustingly new Thai-Japanese-Korean made flicks.
Then very quickly, you would try to hide the thoughts. Firstly because it scares the shit out of you and secondly, someone else might know that an extremely fake lizard monster from a B-grade Thai film could keep you awake at night.
What do you do? Well, since I am holding a book in my hand, I immediately start reading as if I have been whipped. Alternatively, for the bookless ones, they pretend to check their mobile phones for messages or rummage through their bags. And one more thing, never to look out the black, black window again.
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