Chickens (standard:Ghost stories, 1518 words)
Author: Lev821	Added: Apr 28 2022	Views/Reads: 833/514	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
This is why chickens should never play on railways.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

If you touch it you could die”. “That's the dare,” said Charlie, “if it 
was easy then it wouldn't be much of a dare. Stand in the middle of the 
tracks and wait for a train, then see how long you can stay there 
before you move”. “That's chicken,” said Kenneth, and a sense of fear 
swept through him before exiting, replaced by courage, by confidence to 
step up over the steel tracks to not lose face in front of his friend. 
“The other line,” said Charlie approaching the trackside. “The train on 
this one has just gone and might be ages before there's another one, so 
go on the other track”. “But that will mean the train comes out of the 
tunnel. I'm going to need more time to get out of the way”. He turned 
and walked back several metres. “Don't go too far back,” said Charlie, 
“you don't need all that length to get out of the way”. “Yes I do, 
probly more,” and he walked further. “No you don't!” said Charlie, 
“stop there, that's plenty of space”. Kenneth stopped and nodded, 
carefully stepping over the tracks to stand around thirty metres away, 
facing the darkness of the tunnel. “Now you just got to wait for the 
train,” said Charlie. So they stood there for a few moments, looking at 
the darkness, and Charlie went back to the undergrowth to explore. 

Kenneth felt the wind getting up slightly coming from the tunnel, and
could hear a distant rumbling. “Tubby!” shouted Kenneth, but his friend 
was engrossed in trying to decide whether the blackberries he'd came 
across were edible. “Tubby!” Charlie's eyes widened and he ran back to 
the trackside, smiling at the tunnel. “Your turn after this,” said 
Kenneth. “What? no,” said Charlie. “I can't, we need to go in case the 
police come”. “No, it's your turn. Don't be chicken”. “I'm not a 
chicken! I can easy do it, but we need to go after this cos' the 
poli...” “You're a chicken!” Kenneth shouted, pointing at him. “I'm 
not!” Charlie shouted back, and the wind from the tunnel grew more 
forceful over the boys, and Kenneth looked back into the darkness, 
bracing himself for the train, only for something within the tunnel to 
catch his eye. Something which slowly emerged to walk and stop at the 
entrance. 

It was another schoolboy. 

He seemed around the same age, had birds nest blonde hair in a different
school's uniform that looked old and worn. It almost seemed as if he 
had stepped out of a photograph years past, and he was slightly 
transparent. Charlie was staring at him, unsure how to react. 

Then lights lit the tunnel up, and the train thundered out. Charlie
watched as Kenneth was struck by the powerful vehicle. The driver 
slammed on the brakes, but the train would not stop for a while yet, 
and its last carriage had gone beyond the bend, out of sight. Yet, 
there was Kenneth, standing exactly where he was. The boy came further 
out, and stood by him. 

Charlie noticed that he could see through both boys. 

“Sorry,” the new boy said, “but I don't see many people. This tunnel
keeps me here. Ties me to where I died. Like it will you. I did it 
because it gets lonely down here, and you're a like me. A schoolboy. I 
only wanted a friend”. 

Kenneth knew what had happened. His sense of shock had been taken with
the train. It seemed shock and surprise at dying did not continue 
beyond, and his soul was left with a sense of calm. Of acceptance. He 
looked at Charlie, and drifted slowly across to him, who still had 
shock and fear, and wide eyes with a complete lack of comprehension 
that his young mind could not understand. 

“Sorry Tubby, you're not a chicken. You're a good...” but then the
whirling cogs racing in Charlie's mind stopped, and locked into place. 
He screamed, turned, and ran as fast as he could away, until he came 
across the train, which had stopped, and the employees on that train 
were getting off. Charlie shouted and waved at them, running like he 
had never run before. 

“Bye mate,” Kenneth said, and drifted back to the schoolboy who said:
“There'll be a lot more people around for a while,” Kenneth replied: 
“You just killed me so I could join you. How can I be your friend?” he 
then turned and drifted away. Only to get around five metres away 
before something stopped him, like trying to walk against powerful 
wind. The boy joined him. 

“It's the tunnel. It won't let us go”. The sense of acceptance that
Kenneth had then intensified. He knew there was nothing he could do, 
and could see the boy was genuinely sorry. He just wanted company. Just 
a schoolboy like him, and schoolboys did stupid things like play 
chicken on railways. Kenneth nodded. 

“Okay,” he said, and they both drifted into the darkness of the tunnel.


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