Hunter Of The Night

The man stumbled through the door at the end of the train carriage, falling to the side as the underground tracks turned the train slightly. The other passengers recoiled in horror and disgust as the man passed them by. By his clothes and general appearance it was obvious that he was homeless. His filthy brown coat hung off his thin frame making him look almost child-like. His scruffy beard hadn’t been cared for in months, if not years. His hands could be seen peaking from the ends of his over-sized coat with filthy finger-nails topping them.  As he passed the other passengers the smell of alcohol exuded off him and filled their nostrils. This was likely the reason for his stumbling.

The homeless man sat next to an “upper-class lady”. She held her purse tight and kept her legs firmly crossed. The train rocked its way around another corner which caused the intoxicated man to fall towards the woman who screamed in horror and leapt from her seat. Another man on the train, a tall well-groomed man, jumped to the lady’s defence. He punched the homeless man squarely on the jaw and again in the stomach leaving him doubled over in pain on his seat.  As the train pulled up to the station everyone except the homeless man left the carriage. The passengers walked up the platform and out of the station

The doors started to beep to signal their impending closure. A man rushed through the doors just as they started to close. He was well dressed and clearly well-to-do. His clothes were all fine and hand tailored. His hands were housed in black leather gloves which gripped his briefcase tightly. His well-polished shoes clacked on the floor as he made his way down the carriage away from the homeless man, though the homeless man made no sign of noticing the trains newest passenger. The train rocked its way down the tracks through all the remaining stops with no new passengers to be picked up as it was nearing 1am and the streets of London were cold in winter.

The train pulled into its last stop. The remaining passengers exited the train and left the station on their way home after a long day. The train driver closed the external doors and started his way back through the train with a black bin-bag, picking up any rubbish along his way. He reached the last carriage of the train to find a homeless man curled up on one of the chairs.

“Listen mate, I know it’s cold but you can’t be kipping here tonight”

The man didn’t respond so the instructor went over and gave him a light poke with his shoe, but still received no response. The instructor placed his hand on the man’s shoulder and shook him. The man fell off the chair and lay sprawled in the aisle. The instructor was about to jab him with his foot again when he saw a deep crimson liquid seep from under the homeless man. He slowly bent down and rolled the man over. The man’s shirt was soaked through with blood. The instructor recoiled in horror. He fumbled with his phone and dialled 999.

“Hello, emergency services. What’s the manner of your emergency?”

“He’s…..he’s….”

“Sir? He’s what sir?”

“Dead. He’s f**cking dead”. 

The End

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