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"OoooEEEEEooooEEEEE......."

I can hear the whistle of the train as it starts to screech to a halt on the tracks. It's faint - very faint - but I can hear it; almost as clearly as I can hear the tap-tap-tapping of the sparrow that sits upon my windowsill, attempting to eat the fly on the other side of the glass.

"eeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeEEEEE......."

It grows louder now, as the train pulls around the bend, closer, close to my little sanctuary here. It is not much; the barest of apartments, with the minimalist of furniture gracing each room. The carpeting is old and riddled with dust and crumbled things, a nauseating yellowish-orange in color with brown flecks. The only couch in here - if it can even be called a couch - is tiny, with heavily carpeted cushions that itch and scratch in odd places and when you sit down it sucks you in until you feel like you're stuck in quicksand.

I won't even go into the details of the bed - the sheets too short for the length.

It is bad, but it is all I can afford.

"eeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeEEEEE......."

There it is again. I can hear it, making it's way across the rusty metal tracks, the horrible screech of the steel wheels making my head ache.

...ache more, I should say; the pain started long before I could hear the train coming. Long, long before, perhaps a week.

...was it a week? It seems like so long ago, but I have the feeling it was only yesterday; only last night when I stumbled across him.

He was tall; I can remember that much, at least. Tall, with smooth dark features unreadable in the waning twilight of the day. Indiscriminate features, one would say; an appearance that would not linger long in one's mind. A man made for slipping silently into the shadows once his work was finished, never to be seen again.

He first approached me as I was leaving work.

"You're Gale Gentry."

It was not a question. I answered it anyway.

"Yes."

A pause then; very slight.

"Let's talk."

"eeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeEEEEE......."

The talk was not long, in the grand scheme of things. It lasted mere moments, perhaps ten or fifteen at most. He said what needed to be said and then left; left without hearing my answer, the answer to the question that he had again not asked, but that he had implied with every syllable of every word:

"Join us."

"Us." Meaning people like him, people like I. People who saw what I saw.

Hunters.

What a strange idea. Though admittedly, no stranger than the shadows that crept along my walls like spindly black fingers reaching for the corners of the ceiling, brushing seamlessly trough the dusty cobwebs hiding up there. I knew those shadows; knew them well, better than I should have.

When was the last time I had seen shadows like that? Just the other day; the ones that had stretched out from behind my dresser were different -

They were not supposed to be there.

It had always been like this; at least, for as long as I could remember. As a child I had talked to them, tried to reason with them to keep from creeping into room, but to no avail. Shadows do not listen to humans; why would they? My parents had thought me to be out of my mind, pushing me into schools that smelled of antiseptic ointment and sterile needles, until I finally told them that I had stopped seeing the shadows move when they shouldn't have. After that, they sent me to respectable schools, gave me a good education. Then sent me to live with my uncle when they gave up on that too.

But just because someone says something doesn't make it true.

Always shadows. Here and there, all across the room...I sat there for a long time after returning home from my job as a cashier in a grocery store. Not the most glamorous occupation there ever was, but it pays the bills; Not even a man, and already living by myself (technically speaking my uncle lived here as well, but I never saw him; he was always out with various girlfriends or gambling) how else would I be able to examine those shadows again?

I sat by myself that night, thinking.

Just thinking.

SCREEEECCCHHHHHHHHH.

It's nearing evening now. The train has stopped, the station just across the way from where my humble little abode is nestled. I have spent the past day and I have in total silence, my mind focused on only one thing -

Join us.

Yes? No? Maybe so?

Why does one give choices when they already know the answer?



There was a pause. Gale Gentry sat alone on his couch, staring out the window with a calm expression, calmer than he'd ever felt before. Outside the large, rusty metal train had lumbered to a noisy halt on the tracks, steam billowing from its engines. Tendrils of smoke curled around the wires of the phone lines, a few birds fluttering off in a tizzy.

Gale closed his eyes.



Work won't be happy when I call out tomorrow.

"End of the line."

The voice boomed above, filling the final emptiness of death to the brim and trickling over into small, soft echoes.

"Or is it?"

A sign appeared. It offered...options.

"To the left," a turnstile gleamed in the darkness, "Death. The Great Unknown. The Final Journey. You already have the ticket for this one, and I'm sure the trip will be...restful." The voice chuckled softly.

"And to your right," the shape of a weapon appeared, glowing softly, it was...encased in...ice? No, in crystal. "...Life. The Even Greater Unknown. Pain and suffering and hardship await you there. And the ticket...well, the ticket has a rather high price you'll be paying unto the end of days."

Light, sound, colour, smell, taste, touch, smell...in a rush, the world of the waking, the world of the living, slammed into him with a terrible, overwhelming force.



An intercom buzzed on within the small egg-like chamber, "Welcome to the first day of the rest of your life." The laughter that followed was slightly less than reassuring.

((OOC: Congrats on the successful awakening! Please post following the prompt on page 13 here to wrap things up ICly for your char!))