Friday, October 31, 2008

Intrepid in Trepid Station

I arrived at Trepid Station, an abandoned and, according to accounts, haunted train station. The station was the site of a series of killings. Although I was skeptical that the evil in the building lingered, I was determined to investigate. Prior to the station's closing, the coffee shop had at least one customer who was willing to read about the horrific deeds while sipping his coffee:

After the killings, passenger traffic decreased substantially. Who would want to wait for a train when a murder may lurk around the corner? No one wants to spend eternity at a train station. (Then again, that's not much worse than Amtrak's on-time record.)

As I crept through the deserted waiting area, now slowly succumbing to the ravages of time, I would occasionally hear sounds: creaks and clanks, moans, and the faint call of someone in distress. Was someone else there, higher up in the tower, or was this just a trick of my imagination?

Investigating further, I was relieved that the station's owners were very civic-minded:
One can only imagine their pride. "Our passengers may fall victim of a serial killer, but, by golly, no veneral diseases or unwanted pregnancies at this station, even if the passengers engage in random hookups out of boredom!"

Drawing my pistol, I climbed higher into the tower, in search of the voice calling out. Occasionally, I would see an apparition, if only for an instant. Some of the spirits clearly did not want me there:
"Go away"? That didn't seem very hospitable.
At the very top of the tower, I found where the slaughter must have occurred. The psychic energy was very strong here, and the vision of devestation remained constant:
I took a tentative step, and then another. As I entered the room, I came face-to-face with the demon still possessing the tower:
And then...I found myself flat on my back on the ground. I stood, checking that nothing was broken. I looked up at the tower, sixty feet off the ground. Surely I must be dead. Was this the afterlife, full of pumpkins?
Finally, I pieced together what must have occurred. The demon's energy blew me out the window, sending me spiraling down toward what was an almost certain death. However, the air beneath my skirts created just enough drag to slow me down, and the Jameson family has always been blessed with ample padding to cushion falls. This combination doubtlessly saved my life.
I must confess I have no scientific explanation for what I saw and what happened to me. Was it the result of evil spirits haunting the station? I believe in Science and Rational Thought. Yet even the skeptic in me admits the possibility that malevolent energy can linger where evil has been done. And as we believe in God and His benevolent angels, should we not also believe in Satan and his minions?

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