The wonderland

The train stopped coming to the station ages ago. Barely remember the sound they made when they arrived at the station. Now the only thing works are the lights on the wall. I don't even want to know why they bother turning them on.

Nobody is here, only a couple of dogs barking around the corner and I. If I see to my right, I could spot a homeless man sitting on the track, but it could be a giant bush. Trees are growing around everywhere in the station. Even if the train came, it would have to break at least dozens of trees to arrive at the station safely.

Most of the day, the station remains under the shade of the tree; I don't think I have seen the sun from the station. If I look up, all I would see are shadows forming at the bottom of the tree branches. The rustling sound can be peaceful, but some animals always have to ruin it with their noise.

At night, I close my eye and hear the sound of the train moving. It's all in the head, like the past is knocking on the door and making me feel all the things that were once alive. I always imagined a lonely place would have a slight hope for the people.

But the station proved me wrong; I feel like the rat under the grocery store. The only way I can move is by going deep under the ground. Now every broken place in the station has a rat hole; on average days, you will see over two dozen rats coating a disgusting layer on the floor.

But they crawl out at night and hunt for food. Sometimes they do look at the things that are alive. It doesn't last long, and they crawl back into their holes. At least somebody is spending their time with their family.

Now that there is no risk of the train running over them, they freely hang around on the tracks. They also dare to go out in the day, as the shade from the massive trees gives them the confidence to wonder about the world they once ruled before humans showed up.

I am sitting on some of the stable chairs that work; half of them are rotten. If I place my hand on the other side, it will break the entire chair. I always take my time before I sit in any one of the chairs in the station. Not something I used to think about, but now I am.

People don't show up, and I heard they all died. The story went one day; the people from the city just laid their bodies on the track. I heard it was late at night, around 2'O clock. None of the passengers on the train heard a cry or yell. It was late at night, so most of the people were asleep.

The train driver amongst his crew saw what happened, but they decided to keep it a secret. It's not every day a train driver plows the lives of hundred. He told his crews to fabricate a lie to the passengers.

They did, and people believed. I am trying to figure out what happened to the story and the world's reaction to the news, as the entire city is as empty as the station. I only seem to be alive, a breathing creature in the whole town.

They cut off the electricity, and the entire city is just like the station spends its time in darkness. When I walk on the street, sometimes I hear the laughter of kids, adults, and older adults. I don't think any of them were in my head.

One would imagine if the entire town decided to end each other, there would be at least agony, terror, cry surrounding their last moment. But the reality begs the difference; all I could hear was laughter. Some of them are innocent, like the ticklish laughter of a young child.

There were days when I didn't hear anything. Just the sound of my steps with occasional barking from the dogs. Those days were always hard to go through, but now I am used to the laughter. Every day I wake up praying to god to make the laughter appear today.

Sometimes he listens, but most of the time, he plays with me in silence. A crude joke, but I can take it.

Would you look at the time? It's evening already; I need to go back to my house. I hope to get to the station by midnight. This time, I may catch a train or hear the laughter again.