I had a thing for the peanut posters plastered in every subway car. Late one night, emboldened by booze, I ripped one out of its flimsy frame and felt surprised no one else seemed to notice.
Terri almost dropped her iPod on the floor when she woke up on the train after missing her stop and when she looked around the compartment, the only person she saw was a skinny man in a dark suit who was sitting in a seat across from her waving.
Terri would have waved back but the man was covered in blood and his severed head was resting in his lap.
After Jon took his seat on the train beside the knitting old woman, he raised his hands and showed her his long black claws with a fang-filled grin.
The old woman put down her knitting, opened her mouth and pointed at the blood-covered train conductor who lay screaming between her massively wide jaws and she laughed with a girlish titter when Jon got up.
This paper belongs to four strangers (they all got off at different stations). Ink-strained and alone, but at least it got a free ride.
– Tom Burns