HB Challenge #3 - The Commuter

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This is a new writing challenge posted on the Office Mango website that Lizzie Koch pointed out to me. I thought I'd give it a try! I don't know how particular they are about word limits, but I used all 300 getting this down.

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This writing challenge from Horror Bites Challenge #3 based upon the picture provided.

From the Office Mango website: 

Come on guys I know you can come up with something dark & delicious :)

Guidelines :
1: Tales can be posted on your blogs & then just add to the wee linky tool, or add as a comment if you don’t have a blog.
2:  A word count of 200 to 300.
3:  Try to scare me, or at the very least create a little bit of darkness.
4:  This will be a fortnightly (two weeks) challenge from when the post goes live, so you’ve got plenty thinking time.

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The Commuter

    I'm a terrible creature of habit. Every day for years, I took the same train, sat in the same seat, read my paper, and got off at the station near my office within a few minutes of seven o'clock. Co-workers often suggested I add a bit of variety to my life.
    One morning, distracted by some movement, I looked up to see the reflection of a child gazing out the window in front of me, her small frame apparently obscured by the seat back. I was surprised as there are so few riders that early in the morning, especially children. She never talked, and I never heard her arrive or depart. As time passed, however, her reoccurring presence along that leg of my commute became a part of my daily routine. It's the same section that passes where someone had placed a cross and small stuffed animal by the tracks—the thing people put up as a memorial. I can't really say why I took notice of it.
    It all meant little until that drizzly day last week when I saw two people standing by the cross as the train approached. Getting nearer, I merely watched—but the young girl waved vigorously. As we passed, I saw the woman look up, a hand over her mouth, eyes wide open, flowers dropping from her hand as she fell to her knees, the man struggling to support her. I wanted to ask the child if she knew them, but when I leaned over to speak, the seat was empty. I felt the cushion, but there was no residual warmth as one might expect; indeed, it was quite cold.
    I haven't seen the child since that morning. But change is good, so I'm told, and the drive into work really isn't so bad.

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