The Hell Train

To tell this tale, for long I have refrained,

About a scary dream, that still jolts my veins,

Lucid and gore, one that’s very hard to sustain,

Remains uncleaned in my psyche like a dark stain,

Finally, I will reveal, the dark story of the hell train!

A wee hour call about an unexpected family visit,

My folks said pick us from the station, we kindly insist,

Too late at night, yet a compulsion I cannot resist,

I have to be there for them, I have to oblige and assist,

A 3 am arrival was stated on the train’s scheduled list!

Though a regular task, I felt off about this venture,

As if something was uncanny about this adventure,

I asked a friend to join, close to a nearby juncture,

For some company, until I wait for the train’s fixture,

In the cold night, colder amidst the barren metallic rail structure!

The foggy tracks, pierced by amber-colored diffused beams,

The wind wailed with eerie sounds of many mournful screams,

As the rusty old train halts with a squeak releasing black steam,

A wretched ghost machine appearing out of one’s strangest dream,

It’s Inside isolated, as I peeked inside through its flickering gleams!

Its doors open with a creak, smog escapes as vapored ice,

Its inside smells foul, cleanliness is not appropriately precise,

Its floor is stagnated with murky water, a disgusting surprise,

Lighted by faulty lambent lamps, managed by a broken device,

Is it real? A question for which no answer would ever suffice!

Steadily I entered the dark carriage, what I will find I am unsure,

While my friend will explore the other end, shakily he has assured,

Its interior looks like an old asylum ward, spooky that’s for sure,

A giant monitor lizard stuck on a wall, it grins at me as if to lure,

I have now entered a deadly trap, the one to avoid if you are mature!

As I move forward, there are chambers with filthy curtains and dirty beds,

First of a skeletal man with a bulging belly and umbilical cords that spread,

Sprouting to all corners, like spider webs, he wheezes but still appears dead,

Symbiotic cords are his life source, they hunt for any source of food instead,

As I try to escape this live horror, the lizard is following me with its face red!

The second of a boy, with no forehead and missing brain,

He will speak to you in puzzles and ensure he isn’t insane,

He likes to test your wits, to pass through him a quiz you have to attain,

If you lose, he can eat your brain, win he spares your life in bargain,

Though I survive the quest, my sanity is in deep physiological pain!

Third of a lady, with no ears to hear or mouth to speak,

Multiple eyes on her body, in your mind her voice will shriek,

She can tap into vulnerable corners of your soul to make you weak,

The only way to get past her is to accept all truth that you can’t tweak,

My mind is breaking, now, I feel I am one among these freaks!

Likewise, there is a man with no figure but he is pitch black,

A living black hole that absorbs anything that passes his shack,

Then there is this guy, who is flexible to bend and turn through cracks,

His arms covered with tentacles that can claw out the flesh from your back,

And a sharp teethed blood-lusting toddler, who has a body stuffed in a sack!

The cabinets are now turning dark green with slimy evil mosses,

Their sinister whispers conjure, snake faced vines that loudly hisses,

They conquer and spread throughout, in weird pattern and crosses,

I hear a bouncy thud, from a distance, the severed head of my friend tosses,

His face speaks, through serpent branches, can you bear this guilt as time passes!

The terror of these horrific events I can no longer withstand,

I scream and cry like a lunatic, cursing the idea of this un-fated errand,

While the scarlet lizard slowly swallows my abdomen, escape seems bland,

As I die, I see my family, holding a baby covered in sheets and blood-stained bands,

They appear blurry as the mystery unfolds, the tainted cloth unveil an unholy grand,

The infant has my head and torso of a reptile, its red forked tail touching the sinful land!

It was a hot summer afternoon, I got up terrified, soaked in a cold sweat,

My eyes fearfully open, a hellish nightmare, as bizarre as it can ever get,

I could still sense the mourns, putrid odor, grotesque visions, I can never forget,

The supreme evil took an edge in this dream, I was defeated, on the losses I regret,

Startled by my parent’s call, they have planned a surprise but kept it a secret,

Holy Lord! They are coming to visit me soon as they have booked the rail tickets!

Dear Readers, bear with me this time as “The hell train” is a much more longer read compared to my other work which I unusually complete short and sweet. The poem is based on one of my lucid nightmare’s ( trust me I have experienced quite some) and I always anticipated it to be written as a short story, but I have extremely enjoyed writing horror fiction stories in a poetry format, hence I wanted hell train to get a poetic makeover too. With 13 stanzas, 61 paragraphs, 91 lines, and 827 words, this is my longest written poem ever. I hope you will take out some time and take a dive into the dark , unsettling world of “The hell train”. Your comments, feedbacks are most welcome. Stay healthy, safe, and happy. Rain Alchemist.

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8 comments

  1. This is a chilling story no matter how you tell it, but I do love the poetic version you have created here. Holding a form or rhyme scheme over this kind of length is hard work and you have done it beautifully! I won’t be getting on a train anytime soon!

     
    • Thanks a lot, Brad for reading, indeed it was a bit difficult to complete the poetic version and it felt like I won’t be able to narrate the entire story. Glad you liked it .thanks a lot for your support!

       
  2. This is a superior horror poem on the scale of excellence.

    Brilliantly written.

    It would certainly give Edgar Allan Poe, H.P. Lovecraft and Stephen King a run for their money.

    Wow.

    You really have absolutely terrifying nightmares.

    Still they’re excellent inspiration for writing horror poems such as this.

     
    • Thanks a lot, Cristopher Sir. I am extremely glad you took out time to read my poem and provide your valuable comments.
      You have compared my work with the greatest horror writers of their era. And since childhood, I have been a huge follower of their work and probably the reason I have weird dreams and imagination. It is too big a compliment for someone too small like me.
      Lastly, I really appreciate your feedback on my dark poetries and have been inspired by your work too of a similar genre. Take care, stay safe !

       
  3. Right on time. I had one of those scary dreams last night and it felt too real. Hope you’re having a great Monday in spite of the lucid gore this world has thrown at us.

     

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