Last Carriage – A HyperScript Narrative
I dedicate this story to my father, who raised me on his stories of being a London Underground Train Driver. I guess all those train stories rubbed off on me. Miss you Dad.
**He is an athletically built man wearing a grey tracksuit with red trainers. He is sitting forward on the edge of his seat studying his reflection, every now and then gently touching his cheeks with his fingertips. His face looks swollen and painful to the touch. He continually cracks his knuckles.
He is wearing a pair of dark blue jeans with white trainers and a smart black duffle jacket. He sits motionless on the train staring at his reflection in the window in front of him. He looked as though he was contemplating something; as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders
He is a young man dressed completely in black, his hood up, casting a shadow on his face. He sits on the very back of the train, legs sprawled across the seats. There is a slight look of paranoia in his eyes as he nudges a red rucksack beside him, closer to his body.