The Station

A short Flash-Fiction story about addiction and regret.

I couldn’t feel my legs. I’d been sitting so long on the hard oak bench they’d fallen completely numb. I knew I should get on the train, face the things I couldn’t bear to face. Hear the truth I didn’t want to hear. Janey had told me the last time was the last time. That she wouldn’t be there if I lost any more money. But she didn’t understand. No one understood. I had an insider tip. Sure, it wasn’t exactly legal, but I’d already lost our retirement savings. Legal was the last thing on my mind.

The scream of metal grinding against metal seemed to split my skull open as another train shuddered to a stop. The smell of singed brake pads, worn thin, filled the station. I barely noticed the hustle and bustle of the passengers as they hurried by, caught in the tide of their own fate. No, I kept thinking about Janey and how she’d never forgive me.

The train heaved forward, and a chorus of train cars, knuckles pulling taut, echoed like a deep, resonant beat stretching out behind me as I watched another one pull away. How could I have been so stupid? It was supposed to be a sure thing. A no-brainer. There was no way to lose.

It’s why I took out a second mortgage and drained everything I could. And when that wasn’t enough, I went to Tommy Two Fists and borrowed a hundred and fifty large. This was going to be the score that got me out of the shit, that got me back into her good graces. It had been so long since I’d seen Janey smile. We were going to be happy again.

So how did I lose? How did I get it so wrong? I try to think back to that moment when Lucky #7 stumbled on the final turn, and Devil’s Due overtook him. I remember the world going dim and my knees giving out when they announced the winner. I can still taste the vomit. Poor Janey. She didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve me. How could I be so stupid?

I felt a presence hovering behind me. I spun on the bench to find the platform attendant hesitating to speak. “Mister,” he said. “The last train of the night is going to be here soon. I’ve seen you here since morning. Whatever is keeping you here, you need to let it go.”

Tears blurred my vision, and I let out a pained, desperate cry. I couldn’t stop thinking of Janey, and it made my stomach churn. The thought of her realizing I’d gambled everything away this time broke my heart.

But when she finds out Tommy Two Fists and his goons snatched me up and I told them I couldn’t pay. I wish I could go back and start the day over and do things differently. If only I’d have bet on Devil’s Due. I can still hear the thud of the baseball bat across the back of my head, and the burning hot gush of blood that followed.

The last train was pulling into the station, and I never got the chance to tell her how much I love her.

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This story was inspired by a visual prompt by John Watson - Horror Author.

About Liminal Space Creative

As a Métis writer of short stories, flash fiction, and poems, I explore the grey areas of the human condition where love and sorrow pool together. My stories often blend genres, opening as one thing and shifting quietly into another, because the moments that change us forever rarely announce themselves. Rejecting traditional "gotcha" twists, I build layered stories that move toward inevitability on a second read. By injecting humor and kindness alongside horror and grief, I keep the lens close to the characters, asking what we owe the people who shaped us and what we will risk to protect the ones who need us.