InterActiveNovels: The Witch (Shirley Jackson)

I opened my eyes. I was on platform one.

Above my head a broken clock stopped at nine thirty.

An American flag faded and worn by time.

None was around me, completely alone, somewhere in the United States, ready to catch a train toward nowhere.

A cloud of dust made me cough repeatedly. I was about to suffocate, an old man in a blue suit told me how to breathe properly, I didn't have the voice to thank him.

I raised my head, the platforms one and two have been enveloped inside a black cloud.  

A black train was approaching, on the platform, I saw a woman with two children. I helped her to get on the train.

The carriage had no compartments, only a single corridor, the air was partially unbreathable, all the people breathed as the old man dressed in blue had taught me.

I sat close to a window, outside the sky was grey, I felt like I was in an urbanised desert, after a few jolts I understood that the train was leaving toward an unknown destination.

It was clear that I was interacting with some literary characters, I didn't know the title of the novel or the author.

I closed my eyes, reddened by the black cloud. I found the description of the outside landscape in a child's voice very pleasant.

I was sleeping when the young boy shouted "Mom, I saw a witch"

Her mother reassured him with a sight, she was reading The Castle Of Otranto, I smiled to myself, I had just found a way to strike up a conversation with a beautiful woman who loves gothic literature.

My purpose was broken by the old man dressed in blue, he sat close to us, he didn't say a word, in his eyes there was death.

I thought this gentleman was taciturn or even mute. My predictions were vaporized by the arrival of the conductor, the old man showed him his ticket and then thanked him.

I wanted to tell him where he was headed but his eyes went blank.

The old man with white hair told me he had to go to the bathroom, and shortly after he was joined by the little boy who had seen the witches outside the window, I noticed a mutual attraction.

In the train intersection, the young boy thanked the old man. In his hand there was a gigantic lollipop, the flavor remembered from my childhood. My favorite lollipops were those with a thousand flavours.

The old man sat down close to the young boy, on his left the mother with a baby girl of a few months. 

There was a festive air in the carriage, you could even smell the lollipop and a mortadella sandwich and the scent of a cuban cigar.

The young mother told the ancient man to go away, I told her what was wrong. She said to me that the man dressed in blue told his little boy that he killed his sister.

The last phrase of the ancient man was directed to the boy, he said to him that in his adult life he will kill his loved sister and will smoke Cuban cigars.

I was sure I was inside the novel The Witch written by Shirley Jackson.

I looked the mom straight in her eyes. I couldn't tell her that the ancient man was his son in his adult life, I reassured her telling that this experience will make of his son a good person, unable to kill his sister, she didn't understand me.