Weirdville: Fright Train (Lower Grade Spooky Fun Adventure) Read online

  FRIGHT TRAIN

  (A Weirdville Book)

  by

  Majanka Verstraete

  Copyright

  www.EvolvedPub.com

  FRIGHT TRAIN

  (A Weirdville Book)

  Copyright © 2013 Majanka Verstraete

  Cover Art Copyright © 2013 Noelle Giffin

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  ISBN (EPUB Version): 1622530683

  ISBN-13 (EPUB Version): 978-1-62253-068-7

  ~~~~~

  Edited by Lane Diamond

  ~~~~~

  eBook License Notes:

  You may not use, reproduce or transmit in any manner, any part of this book without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations used in critical articles and reviews, or in accordance with federal Fair Use laws. All rights are reserved.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only; it may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please return to your eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Disclaimer:

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or the author has used them fictitiously.

  Other Books by Majanka Verstraete

  House of Horrors (A Weirdville Book)

  The Doll Maker (A Weirdville Book)

  Valentina and the Haunted Mansion

  Valentina and the Whackadoodle Witch

  www.MajankaVerstraete.com

  Dedication

  For all those kids out there who love telling scary stories to their friends, and reading scary books in bed at night, wondering if they should leave the lights on or not after reading. Hope you enjoy this story as well!

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Other Books by Majanka Verstraete

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  What's Next from Majanka Verstraete?

  More from Majanka Verstraete

  More from Evolved Publishing

  Chapter 1

  Charlie bounced from his left leg onto his right leg and rubbed his arms in an effort to stay warm. He exhaled a small, white cloud. The air was stale cold as snow swirled from the grey sky. He wore a red snow jacket, an oversized hat and thick gloves, but that wasn’t enough to keep him warm. He should’ve worn the scarf his mom had suggested to him as well, but he didn’t want to be caught wearing a scarf with a Mickey Mouse pattern. The hat, a heavy black monstrosity that looked like those tall Russian winter hats, was bad enough.

  He was going to stay with his grandma for the two-week Christmas holiday. At first, he’d been upset about it; the thought of being away from his parents for so long made his stomach squirm. But his parents were busy renovating the house, and it was either sleeping on the couch in the damp, chilly living room, or staying with his grandma. At least Grandma’s house was always warm.

  His mom had dropped him off at the station fifteen minutes before his train was due to arrive, on her way to an appointment with a gynecologist—a difficult word for a doctor who helped deliver babies.

  “Guy-nick-ollie-jist.” He rolled the word over his tongue, but no matter how many times he tried to say it, it still sounded weird.

  She hadn’t told him why she had to go right now, but he sensed it was kind of urgent. She’d kissed his forehead, pinched his cheeks, and crawled back into the car, nearly bumping her large belly into the steering wheel. Then she got out again, put her hat on his head, warned him not to take it off because it was too cold to go out without a hat, and scolded him for not wearing one in the first place. She patted his back and disappeared back into the car, and drove away without even looking back.

  It all had happened so fast, Charlie barely had time to register what was going on. The hastiness wasn’t like his mom at all. Maybe something was wrong with the baby.

  Just thinking about that made his stomach hurt ten times worse than the thought of celebrating Christmas at Grandma’s house.

  He glanced at his watch and sighed another white cloud into the frigid air. The train should’ve already arrived, and the weather seemed determined to torment him. A week ago, it hadn’t even snowed. Now, one snow storm after another had covered the ground in a permanent white carpet, and the temperatures had dropped to a record low.

  Another train rolled into the station—not the one he needed—and a woman got up from one of the benches to board the train. He rushed to her now empty spot and squeezed in next to an overweight man who’d managed to get all sweaty despite the cold.

  A loudspeaker screeched in the distance. “Ladies and gentlemen,” a man’s voice read through the speaker, “we regret to inform you that the train to Weirdville has been delayed fifteen minutes. We’re sorry for any inconvenience this may cause.”

  Charlie sighed again and pulled the big hat tighter over his head. He thought about Grandma’s warm house, and how she’d probably make him some hot cocoa and play Monopoly, his favorite board game.

  After a while, he fumbled through his pockets for the cell phone his dad had given him—so he could call in case of an emergency. He searched for his dad’s number and hovered his finger over the dial button. It had only been a little over twenty minutes since they’d dropped him off, and maybe Dad would get mad if he called so soon. He didn’t want to come across as a crybaby, so he closed the phone and put it back into his pocket.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the voice through the speakers called again, “the train to Weirdville has been delayed for at least half an hour. We apologize for this delay.”

  Charlie snorted, crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat.

  The bulky man next to him raised his eyebrows, but shrugged and focused back on his magazine.

  A few people stood waiting for their trains, huddled in long coats. A large, old-fashioned clock dangled from an iron sign stuck to the walls of the main building. The seconds crept by, and it seemed to take forever before the clock jumped a minute forward.

  One by one, people left and boarded their trains to various destinations. The wind picked up, and Charlie’s ears had numbed from the cold. He pulled the hat farther over his head. The train station was almost deserted by now, and he contemplated calling his parents after all.

  The man next to him stood up, nodded at him, and boarded one of the trains.

  Charlie pulled his knees to his chest as snowflakes covered his ears and nose, and he thought he might never feel warm again.

  If only mom and dad were here….

  Chapter 2

  A woman walked over to him. Her heels clicked on the ground, and she was covered from top to toe in fur. “Are you all right, kid? What train do you need?” She had a round face and large, warm eyes.

  “Weirdville,” Charlie replied. “And I’m all right.” His parents had warned him not to talk to strangers, but the woman kept a safe distance between them, and she looked like she meant well.

  “Oh.” She stared at him, and a deep
line formed on her forehead. She looked about to say something else, but at that moment a voice spoke through the speakers again.

  “The train to Carlston, Appletorn and Weirdville will arrive at platform four. We wish you a safe journey, and we apologize for the delay.”

  Charlie grabbed his backpack and jumped up from the seat.

  An old-fashioned red train, which looked as if it had come straight out of a nineteenth-century postcard, rolled into the station. The locomotive, like one of those models that appeared in Western movies, or in Agatha Christie novels, chugged and churned ahead of the passenger cars. Steam pumped out of a shaft on top of it, and horizontal bars pulled back and forth on both sides of the locomotive. The strange thing was that the train looked brand new—no graffiti, no paint peeling off. The other trains that had entered the station were all in various states of decay—some even had windows covered in graffiti—but not this one.

  Charlie took a step forward, eager to get onboard, when a gloved hand rested on his shoulder.

  “Don’t get on that train,” the woman said.

  “Why not?”

  “Just don’t.” She squeezed his shoulder. “If you come with me to my house in Brightton, I can give you a ride to Weirdville.”

  Charlie looked the woman up and down. Her eyes were wide and her hand trembled. She hadn’t looked crazy to him at first, but something was obviously wrong, and he had zero intention of taking her up on her proposal.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, yanking his shoulder free. “I have to get on that train.”

  He turned his back to her and walked toward the train without looking back.

  The train halted with a screeching sound, like someone scratching their nails on a chalkboard. Charlie raised his hands to his ears to block out the sound, and didn’t lower them until the train came to a full stop.

  The doors didn’t open automatically, and he had to pull a lever to make them flip open. The doors staggered halfway, and he pushed through the half-open doors to get on the train. Nobody stood there, waiting to get off the train. Charlie hesitated and leaned his torso back outside the doors. Nobody exited through the other doors of the other railroad cars, and nobody waited to step inside either.

  The woman he met earlier stood frozen in the spot he’d left her. She looked up at him, and an emotion he couldn’t read flashed across her face. A tear blinked in the corner of her eye, but it might’ve been a snowflake as well. She reached out and beckoned for him to come back.

  A sense of dread crawled over his body. He balanced on the top step of the stairs leading inside. The rational option would be to go in, but his gut told him to get out.

  Don’t be childish. Just get on the train. Then you can go to Grandma’s house without any further trouble. That woman is probably a little crazy, or confused. Going home with a stranger is like ten times more dangerous than boarding a train—even a spooky one.

  He got onboard just in time, because the doors snapped shut behind him, trapping him inside.

  Charlie had always suffered from claustrophobia, the fear of small spaces, particularly when he was already stressed out. The narrow entryway closed in on him now, the walls attacking him from all around. He put a hand against the wall to steady himself, and hurried out into the passenger car.

  The passenger car looked as old-fashioned inside as it had from the outside. Heavy curtains in a dark shade of green covered the windows, next to seats covered in lighter, striped green velvet, above carpeting the color of slime. Six rows of seats ran up each side of the coach, paired two by two with a table standing in the middle.

  He took a deep breath, desperate for the air he’d lacked just a minute ago, but with the fresh air came the smell of mold and rotten food. The smell reminded him of his grandma’s attic, a mysterious kingdom dominated by cobwebs, boxes filled with yellowed newspapers, and wet spots where the roof leaked.

  He slumped down in the first seat and threw his backpack on the empty seat next to him. The train made a rattling sound and started moving forward. He dug up his train ticket, which his mom had purchased online earlier today, because apparently nobody likes to wait in ticket booths anymore.

  One way ticket to Weirdville. Better keep it ready in case the train conductor asked for it.

  For some reason, the words ‘one way’ made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end—like he was never coming back or something.

  Stop being ridiculous, Charlie. You’re not a little kid anymore.

  He felt a little cozier in the train, where the warmth comforted him after what he’d experienced outside. He took off his hat, gloves and jacket, and folded them on top of his backpack. The train ride would last for about an hour, and then he’d be safe and sound with his grandma. If he told her about his ordeal, she may even bake him some cookies, despite it already being late. Grandma made the best cookies in the world.

  He leaned back in his chair, and the warmth, combined with the rocking of the train, lulled him to sleep.

  Chapter 3

  When Charlie woke up, a woman sat opposite of him. He jumped up bumped his head into the wall. His neck was stiff, as if he’d been sleeping for hours.

  The woman looked at him from head to toe. With her pursed lips and glassy eyes, she appeared to be lost in thought.

  The lights had turned on, and an eerie golden glow now came from old-fashioned oil lamps with gold-colored ornaments hanging against the walls. Outside, the sun had vanished and dark clouds dominated the sky. A pale moon rose in the distance.

  Oh, God, what if I missed my stop?

  He conjured up his cell phone, and let out a sigh of relief when he read only a quarter of an hour had passed. Strange that it had turned dark so fast, but maybe that was due to the bad weather.

  “I don’t know you,” the woman across from him said. Her voice was like satin, soft and melodious, but she made the sentence sound like an accusation. She was completely clad in red, and reminded him of Carmen Sandiego, a heroine of a television show he’d watched when he was younger. She wore a dress suit with a skirt dropping to her knees. Short, copper blonde hair escaped from under a large red hat that covered most of her face in shadows.

  “I’m Charlie,” he blurted out.

  “You shouldn’t be on this train.” She crossed and uncrossed her legs, like she was nervous. “It’s not safe for you here.”

  Charlie frowned. “Why would it not be safe?”

  The woman in red shook her head. “Get off this train, Charlie, while you still can.”

  Like one crazy person a day wasn’t enough, he had to meet two of them. Charlie rolled his eyes, crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat. “I have to get to Weirdville, and until this train stops there, I’m not going anywhere.”

  “You don’t understand. You’re in danger.” She leaned closer to him. “Please.”

  Out of nowhere, the stench of something rotten, or decaying, overwhelmed him. He coughed and gasped for air.

  The woman leaned back when a ray of moonlight shone in through the window, just at the spot where she’d been seconds ago. She fumbled her hands, her skin a soft, grey color, like she was sick or something.

  “Why am I in danger?”

  She looked left and right, as if hesitant to answer. “If he finds out you’re on board of this train, he won’t be pleased.”

  “Who? Who won’t be pleased?” Cold air trailed along Charlie’s back, like the temperature in the room had just dropped a dozen degrees.

  The woman froze in her spot, gaze glued to the door. “He won’t,” she whispered.

  Chapter 4

  “He” was a giant of a man, who had to duck to get his head inside of the coach. With long black hair and a thick beard, he reminded Charlie of Blackbeard, the famous pirate. His gaunt face, wide eyes, and frame of a bodybuilder made him just about the last person on Earth Charlie wanted to be on the bad side of.

  “Hide,” the woman hissed at him.

  Charlie couldn’t move. He was f
rozen to the spot, in the place between fear and just not knowing what to do. Trust the woman, or act normal?

  The giant wobbled over to them, bumping his head into the ceiling once or twice, muttering soft curses whenever he did. He wore black clothing and a train conductor’s hat. “Tickets, please,” he slurred in a heavy accent.

  The woman gazed at Charlie, her eyes bidding him to stay silent. She then turned back to the conductor and put on a radiant smile. “Good evening, Thaddeus. Have you enjoyed yourself today?”

  The man groaned. “It was all right, I suppose. Tickets, please.”

  “You really should try to talk more. You know it’s not good for you when you don’t talk about your emotions.” She paused, sighing. “It’s especially bad when you’re playing conductor. You get all uptight and business-like.”

  The giant shrugged. “I just want to get this done. I’m tired. Today was okay, though.”

  Charlie’s gaze darted back and forth from the woman to the man she’d called Thaddeus. It was obvious they knew each other, and that the woman was trying to buy him time, but he saw no way to escape, or any reason why he should. After all, Thaddeus was just asking for tickets, and he had a valid ticket right there with him.

  “Now, tickets please.”

  The woman sighed again and handed him a ticket that didn’t look like Charlie’s ticket at all. His ticket was sleek and modern, an email his mom had printed out—black ink on a white page with codes, dates, and all the other necessities. Her ticket was bright yellow with black ink, and with decorative ornaments in the corners. The text was swirly, as if handwritten.

  Thaddeus pinched the ticket, and then turned to Charlie. “Tickets, please.”

  Charlie’s hand trembled when he handed his ticket to the conductor.

  The giant snatched the ticket and frowned. He turned the ticket around, then handed it back, almost throwing it at him. “That’s no valid ticket. Give me a valid ticket.”