Welcome to Greenwood
Written by Kathryn K Williams
In the seven years that I’ve lived in Toronto I’ve rode the subway trains many times and it is my main mode of transportation, aside from my own feet that is. I rarely go near Greenwood station; in fact I’ve only stepped upon its platform once as far as I can remember. Every time I pass the station however, and read its name written in large green tiles across the walls, I find myself chuckling and saying to myself, “Welcome to Greenwood. Everyone off.” Now most would not understand this inside joke of mine unless you have lived in my shoes for a few years, and I would not recommend it. You see I am an avid reader of horror and in my day I have read nearly everything worth reading on the subject. Somewhere during my pursing of the libraries in my home town I discovered something about a place called “Greenwood” however in this case it was referring to an insane asylum in the middle of a forest where only the truly mad are locked away and many monster of old come to feast. So ever since I noticed that there was a station by this name I cannot help to imagine some dark asylum overhead with the insane screaming for freedom and creatures crawl from the vents to nibble upon their toes.
I know what you are thinking, you think that I’m one of those who belongs in that asylum for finding such a dreadful thing amusing, but then again I’m not all there so maybe you are right, but I insist you let me continue with my story for you may change mind about other worldly things. I don’t really blame you for thinking me insane for you see it is on my way to my psychologist office that I pass Greenwood station and in a way I am a little out there. However I no longer giggle the same way I used to about that station and now I find a smile crossing my usually frowning face when those tall letters appear before my eyes.
For most Greenwood Subway Station is like any other. Bright overhead lights reflect against off-white walls and their silver-grided, black and white speckled, linoleum floors giving the place a welcoming feeling, unlike the dark halls of the New York subways that always made me feel as if there was something lingering the shadows like something out of some horror movie. The subway stations of Toronto have become a second home to me as I travel them so often, only avoiding them during the chaos of the rush hour crowds. I try my hardest to steer clear of those tunnels during the morning and evening rush, but sometimes it can’t be helped and I find myself fighting for breathe between the crowds of people. It reminds me somewhat of my old high school, with its halls only wide enough for one or two people to walk side-by-side. Truthfully the subways are not as bad as my school was for the halls are much wider allowing for many people to move from one train to another with ease.
It was a year ago now, but I still remember that day like it was yesterday and the first time I set my eyes on that strangely shy girl on the Greenwood Station. Normally when I’m riding the trains I stand at the doors across from those that would soon open, switching sides depending on which side the next platform was about to appear on. I usually stand to give the seats to those who need them more and standing near the doors allows me to watch the many passengers as they enter and leave the train. You see I love to people watch and it has become one of my favourite passed times every since escaping the nightmare of my home town, where everyone looked identical, to the big city, where everyone seemed to have something unique to share with the world. I find myself watching the female passengers who near me, wondering if this one could be the one to end my streak of loneliness. I know that may sound strange, but I’ve pursed all the lesbian hangouts in search of my special someone only to be confronted with one disappointment after another, time and time again.
On the day I saw her I had just about given up entirely on life itself. My last attempt at a relationship ended horribly only after a few weeks and as such I was not really searching for anyone on that day, my eyes drifting from one face to another without really taking in anything at all. I was standing in the left door, which only seems to open in the downtown core for the most part, as the train slowly rolled into Greenwood and I found myself so out of it that I didn’t even smile as the announcer called out the stations name. The train came to a stop and the doors opened to allow passengers to board. It was between rush hours so the train was relatively empty and only a small trickle of people entered the train. The door I stood near was completely void of anyone entering or leaving, giving me a clear view of the platform before me and of her.
She did not enter; instead she opted to lean against the far wall across from me. I have no idea how long she had been watching me before I finally noticed her, but the moment I did the doors began to slide shut again and I caught a glimpse of a small, shy, smile cross her face through the small glass windows upon the door. That smile effected me in a way that I can not explain, but I found myself moving quickly across the car to the doors as it start to pull out of the station, unsure if that smile was meant for me or not. As I peered through the window I saw her head follow me as the car moved along the tracks and I was almost certain I saw her give me a small wave, a shy little wave at waist height as if she did not want to call attention to herself, wanting only to bid me a small farewell and maybe to assure me that she indeed intend that smile for me.
In those few moments that I saw her I committed her image to memory in hopes that one day I would meet her again. To say she was cute would be putting it simply, everything about her just seemed so perfect to me. She was about my age, in her mid twenties or maybe younger. She stood about five feet in height and was a tad plump, not large or fat by my standards, but not rail thin like so many of the girls I saw around the club scene. Her hair was dark brown and brushed lightly upon her shoulders, parted down the middle with one side tucked over her tiny ears, showing off her cute, round face and high cheek bones. Her dark eyes stared out at me, surrounded by pale skin that was speckled with a sparse amount of light freckles. Her attire made her seem all the smaller, a large black t-shirt covered her, hanging loosely over her shoulders and waist. Light brown kakis flowed out from beneath her shirt, pouring over her feet, only leaving the toes of her black docks poking out from under their folds. She gave me the impression of a small child, lost and alone. I only say this because of her eyes more then anything else. Even with the small smile upon her face her eyes conveyed a sense of sadness that I had become familiar, for I saw that same sadness in my own eyes every morning when I look upon a mirror, a loneliness that I could relate to entirely and wanted so strongly to be rid of.
The next few days I could not get the image of that girl out of my mind. What was she doing standing there? Did she know me? Have I seen her somewhere before? All these questions and so many more filled my head and as I found myself once again riding the subways on my way passed Greenwood I felt myself growing excited. Would she be there again? Not likely, but my eyes jumped up to the platform as the announcer called out the station name and I quickly searched the platform for any sign of the girl, reminding myself that it was less then likely that she would be there again. She has a life and isn’t going to just sit on the platform waiting for my return. I was happy to find myself wrong for there she was, standing directly across from the doors I stood at. Her smile broadened this time and I found myself smiling as well. We stared at each other, neither moving, not sure what to do next. What seemed like only seconds the doors closed again and the train began to move on again. I sat heavily upon one of the seats nearest to the door and dropped my head into my hands, running my fingers through my short curly sandy blonde hair. This was insane. There was no way this girl would be waiting for me. She was probably waiting for someone else who happens to be arriving around the same time as myself. That had to be it and there was no other answer. There was no other way to explain why this girl was standing there two times in a row.
The next time I boarded the train I decided to enter a different car and left much earlier then usual. I needed to know if she was really waiting for me or someone else. I know how crazy this may seem, but I figured if she was there this time there was no other way to explain it other then fate. I was prepared to be disappointed and told myself over and over again that there was no possible way she could be there this time. I was an hour ahead of schedule and four cars off from my usual spot, which was in the middle. By the time the train arrived at Greenwood I had convinced myself to expect to find the platform completely empty. As the train slowed I frowned as she did not appear, then I saw her. Since I was near the front of the train it just took longer for the train to fully pull into the station, but there she was, directly across from the doors as she always was and I was almost certain that I saw a small glimmer in those eyes. I was so startled to find her their this time that I just stood there like a jaw-slacked idiot, staring in bewilderment at the girl before me. It took the doors closing for me to shake the strange sensation from my head and I cursed myself as the train left the station.
Now I knew there had to be some logical explanation behind the girl’s appearance time and time again on the platform of Greenwood station, but for the life of me I could not come up with an answer. The next while I continued to try to come up with an answer and at the same time tried to convince myself to finally get up the nerve to step off the train and approach the girl. This scared the hell out of me for some reason. I started to think that this was all some kind of cosmic joke and that when I finally spoke to the girl she was just laugh in my face and this notion settled heavily in my mind as the train moved along the tracks on its way to Greenwood station. I’d completely convinced myself that this was one huge joke when the announcer suddenly spoke up overhead.
“I’m sorry to inconvenience you all, but I’m having troubles with this train so we’ll be stopping at Greenwood station where everyone will have to exit the train and wait the next one. Sorry for the delays.”
Well this was unexpected indeed and it would appear that some force wanted me to get off the train at Greenwood no matter how much I refused to do so. I could feel my shoulder tense up and my mouth go dry at the idea of stepping off at that station. What would I do if she was there after all? What if this was all part of the joke? That was impossible, no one could force a subway train to stop at a specific station. Even if they did something to the train there was no telling where it would stop, or even if the train would make it to my location to pick me up. My mind was a muddled mess of thoughts and worries as the train slowed to a crawl, brakes squeaking in protest and sending a shrill sound through the tunnels. I figured that the brakes must have been the problem because I rarely ever hear them make that hellish kind of sound. The doors opened before me and several passengers departed, grumbling as they did.
As the crowd dispersed, finding their place along the walls, I was surprised to find her nowhere in sight. Maybe it wasn’t fate after all and I was just making too much out of a coincidence. Letting out a sigh of relief and disappointment I stepped out of the car and looked around for a place to stand. That was when I saw her. She was sitting upon a bench only a few feet away, with a book in hand. I felt myself swallow hard as her eyes settled upon me and I glanced around to see if she was indeed with someone else. There were maybe thirty people on the platform, but not one took notice of the girl and I felt myself growing nervous under her gazing, having to stare at the ground and my ratty sneakers. I was so convinced that I would never talk to her that I didn’t bother to dress very nicely. My jeans were faded and covered in some kind of grease stain that I don’t recall getting before. My white t-shirt was wrinkled from sleeping in it the other night and my hair was a complete disaster, never doing anything I want it too.
I ran my long fingers through my hair for a moment and fixed my glasses upon my nose as I spun in circles a few times, trying to appear as if I was in search of a place to stand. I was so concerned with the girl that I did not notice that the train has already left and a new one quickly took its place. I became aware of the new arrival as people stepped away from the wall and approached the yellow rubber tiles that marked the safety zone, one step too close and someone could be clipped by the incoming train and that would be the end of it for them. I moved against the wall, not wanting to be crushed by the crowd of impatient passengers. I’ve found that even a delay of a few minutes can cause some people to get rather irate and I would rather not be near someone who might suddenly rail up and hit someone for no reason. This has not happened often, but I have had a backpack hit me across the head as someone sung it around in their haste to enter the car and I don’t wish to experience that again.
Against the wall I could see the girl, still sitting at the bench with her book in hand. She was no longer paying attention to me as her eyes moved over the words before her. I pulled a wristwatch out of my pocket; I don’t like the feel of them on my wrist so keep them in my pockets, and glanced upon its face to see I was about forty-five minutes ahead of schedule so decided it might be better to wait for the next train then try to fight with this mob for a spot on the train. The crowd quickly dissipated and before long I found myself standing alone on the Greenwood platform, alone aside from the mysterious girl who was once again looking up from her book. Unsure what to do I slid along the wall towards the girl and looked down at the seat beside her.
“M… Mind if I sit here?” I slightly stammered, pointing at the spot beside her.
She shook her head and smiled, “Go ahead.”
I sat down and for the first time I noticed just how wobbly my legs were. I tried to think of something to say. Everything that came to mind sounded lame and so much like a bad pick up line it was unreal. What do you say to a girl that keeps appearing at the same station over and over again? Saying it is fate that me met sounded so stupid, but I that was what I was feeling that very moment. Finally a question came to mind that didn’t sound completely stupid.
“Are you waiting for someone?” I finally asked, proud of myself for not sounding like a complete fool, but the strange look upon her face made me feel that this was the wrong question to ask after all.
The girl stared at me in confusion, “I…” She started to speak, then stopped herself and nibbled on her lip in a cute way that made me smile.
“I’m sorry.” I lowered my head in shame, “I didn’t mean to intrude, I just noticed you sitting here and thought you must be waiting for someone.”
She tilted her head as if she was studying me, “I can’t…” She stated miserably and turned her head to the floor, her hand holding the book tightly between her hands, “I can’t leave here.”
Now it was my turn to be confused, “You can’t leave?”
Her hand came to her mouth as she realized something that I hadn’t, “You don’t know, do you?” She said in shock and suddenly got to her feet, “I’m sorry. I thought…”
I stood as well, watching her carefully. She seemed nervous all of a sudden, almost as if she had did something horribly wrong, “You thought what? Were you waiting for me?” I blurted out unintentionally.
She froze in place at those word and stared at me with fear in her eyes, “I really thought…” again her eyes dropped to the ground.
Suddenly I felt very anxious to know what it was that was on this girl’s mind, “You were waiting for me then, but why?”
She quickly shook her head and turned to flee, “I shouldn’t be here.”
“Wait!” I called out and grabbed her arm, stopping her flight, “Is this some kind of prank or something? Tell me why you were waiting for me here?” I waved my hand around the station frantically, “What do you want with me?”
The girl’s arms grew limp as she stood before me, her head down so her hair fell before her eyes, “When I saw you and you looked back at me I thought you knew, that you were like me.”
“What are you talking about?” I insisted firmly, “I have no clue what you are going on about.”
She looked up at me, “Where were you heading?” She suddenly asked.
I let go of her arm as I staggered back at this question, “I… I…” Suddenly remembering my appointment I pulled out my watch to see the hour was growing close, “Shit! I’m going to be late.” I glanced around in search for the nearest clock to confirm that my watch was indeed telling the correct time. The digital display scrolled the latest news overhead along with the current time and to my surprise my watch was three hours behind, “What the hell? It can’t be afternoon already!” I shook my watch frantically in hopes to hear the slightest ticking, “My doctor is going to kill me.”
She set her hand upon mine and shook her head. There was a look of sympathy in those big brown eyes, “He will not mind...” She said with a deep sigh and then pulled a scrap of paper from her back pocket and handed it to me, “Here, this is why I’ve been waiting for you.”
My hands trembled as I took the paper from her hand to discover that it was a torn page of a newspaper folded several times into a small square. As I unfolded the paper I found my hear racing out of control. Upon the page was a small black and white picture of me, one from my photo ID, below it the words screamed out at me and I felt the strength from my legs give out and I dropped to the ground.
“Woman, 28, pushed before train.”
I could not believe what I was seeing. I was alive and there was no way this could be true.
The girl knelt next to me, “I found that in the newspaper a week ago and was hoping that we’d run into each other.” She said in a quiet voice, “When I saw you on the train I thought for sure you had awaken, that you knew you were dead and that was why you rode the trains. I preyed everyday that you would step off that train.”
I glanced up at the girl to see tears in her eyes, “H… how long have you been here?” I shakily asked.
“Ten years….” She said with a sigh, “I was attacked by a group of kids and one of them stabbed me. I died in the corner over there.” She pointed over my shoulder and for the first time I saw a red stain upon the wall and floor.
I stared down at the clipping before me. It stated that during the rush hour I was shoved too close to the tracks and as I tried to catch my balance the train hit me. I died instantly and I bet if I ventured to that station I would find a pool of my blood, people walking passed it as if there was nothing there. I laughed. To think it would be that simple and that I would be so unaware that I would continue trying to get to my doctor’s time and time again. I glanced up at the girl, “You mind if I join you? I’m tired of being alone.” I said weakly.
The girl smiled, “You can stay as long as you want.”
So that is my story and we have been haunting Greenwood station together for over a year now and it is even better then anything I expected. I never want to be without her and I truly hope she feels the same. To whoever reads this, the next time you are down at Greenwood Station and see something moving inexpertly don’t be afraid, it is just us kids having a good time. Come join us when your time comes.
The end
*******
This short story is a creation or property of Kathryn K Williams. Do not duplicate in any way shape or form without her permission.
If you wish to read more of her writing and art check our her profile on Deviant Arts: http://shinigami-shimai.deviantart.com/ or Deviant Hearts: http://www.devianthearts.com/viewuser.php?uid=159
Also if you find any errors please contact her at one of her accounts or at katwilliams@rogers.com
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