A faint buzzing,
gentle whistling,
as wind and rail lines intermingled
Alex was on her way home
from a date,
waiting for her train,
still single
The station was empty,
the time was 11:46,
she was sat on an uncomfortable bench,
with the usual underground stench
This was a rarely used,rarely cleaned,if at all,station
“busy today, isn’t it!”
Alex heard this as a whisper,
an attempt at comedy, forced,
unsure of the source
“they hardly ever use this one”
“privacy, yet hunger”
was she going mad,
knowing so wouldn’t be too bad
“this one comes through here every now and then”
“she smells good”
“a decent human”
The words turned to chuckles,
then nothing
Alex couldn’t for the life of her figure it out,
no one around,
only herself,
the rails,
and the walls
With a sharp physical realisation,
she thought to turn around,
not acting, but thinking,
she felt that sinking,
feeling
There was hardly any space behind the bench,
just a wall,
a wall covered in assorted forms of graffiti
Near the base of the wall,
among the dirt and grime was a depiction,
looking almost Egyptian
“her eyes wander”
“fear not, she cannot hear us, in this age when have they ever heard us”
She could hear them though,through chance,
coincidence or sheer bad luck
The graffiti was crude but pretty clear,
part lion,
part crocodile,
part… hippo?
“she sees, she hears”
As Alex watched the crocodilian mouth flicker,
her heart fluttered,a cough,a sputter
“you’re right, what sorcery is this, who is she”
No movement from the first piece,
the one beside it though,
looked stern and in constant tormenting anguish
When Alex gazed across to the second,
the burning wheel,
she felt a burning fear,
and there was only one thing she could hear
“she knows naught, that will be her final earthly mistake”