DREW CHELMOWSKI: The Night at the Subway, college honorable mention

Of course the subway had to be delayed, it was just my luck. Taking the subway during the day was bad enough, but taking it in the middle of the night was far worse due to the recent string of murders. I had never liked taking the subway because the dimly lit tunnels always had an eerie appearance, but now they had a murderous atmosphere as well. I was hoping there wouldn’t be anyone down there that night and I’d be by myself. The decision to ride the subway that night would ultimately haunt me forever.

It all started when I arrived to the station and discovered my train had been delayed. The news unsettled me and I began to feel tense as if the air was constricting my throat. I was consumed with the feeling something horrible was going to happen; just like the night that I ended up on crutches.

As I hobbled around on my crutches, there were only two people there, and one of them was walking towards me. He was wearing baggy clothes and wore bright white sneakers. His clothes were unkempt, hair unruly, eyes glazed over and looking at nothing in particular. I tried to avoid making eye contact with him, but he noticed me with a look of malice in his eyes.

“Hey you alright?” he breathed out gravelly. He had stood directly in my path, making it impossible to not interact with him.

“Yeah, I’m just waiting for my train,” I stammered while trying to decide how to get around him. I got a better glimpse of the man and I quickly realized he was looking me up and down. Deciding it would be safer to not continue to talk to him, I tried my best to get away from him.

“What train are you taking,” he asked still staring at me with ill will.

Trying to keep my voice steady I shortly said, “It’ll be here in a few minutes.”

I did my best to avoid any further interaction because he gave off an oppressive presence. As I moved towards a bench, he trailed behind me. I sat on one end of the bench, and he sat in the middle—mere inches away. His leg was rapidly bouncing up and down in anticipation and I became more unnerved.

An announcement came over the intercom that a train was arriving and I decided to get on it. It wasn’t my train, but anything would’ve been better than sitting next to that creep. As I was about to make my escape, I nervously looked at him and I realized he had been inching closer to me. He put his hand on my knee and started to speak, but I didn’t give him the chance. I immediately punched him in the face. I staggered forward and tried to navigate towards where the train would be arriving in seconds.

He lunged after me and grabbed at my leg again. Fear and adrenaline overtook my body. I swung around and hit him as hard as I could in the head with one of my crutches. The man fell to the ground and I desperately stumbled trying to get away from him as fast as I could. I searched to see if there was anyone else in the station but saw no one. I began to scream.

Turning around, I saw that the man was getting back up. Slowly I backed toward the edge of the platform in hopes the train would arrive before he regained his senses. He got back to his feet and charged at me. I had nowhere to go, nothing to do, the only thing I could think of was fall on the ground and hope he wouldn’t react in time. As he leaped at me I jumped to the side and the man’s momentum caused him to topple over the edge. He yelled in agony as his body smacked into the rails and I knew what was about to happen. The booming noise of the incoming subway was overwhelming, and at that moment I felt sorry for that man. Even though the subway was so loud, I could still hear the sound of the sickening crunch of the impact. That was the most horrific moment of my life and it will haunt me forever.

… That’s what I told the cops at least. Investigators always fall for a good heroine story. They fell for my damsel in distress routine; hook, line, and sinker. Now they think they’ve solved the recent string of murders. Time to find my victims somewhere else.