I want to know, what do my homies on Y!A think of my story?

Question by ~Chris~: I want to know, what do my homies on Y!A think of my story?

At two hours past midnight, the low drone of a coming train rang out through the cloistered halls of Middleton Station. The rhythmic thumps of its engine reverberated off of the aging limestone walls, and the hollow echo of its wheels rumbling along the rails called out like the mournful cries of some long lost spirit, trying to find its way home.
Visibly chilled by the strange, somehow pitiful sound, a young woman standing alone on the station platform wrapped her light wooden coat more tightly around her body. It did little to keep out the bone chilling cold of the night, and even less to protect her from the awful, biting frost growing inside of her.

Down a dark tunnel to her left, the woman saw the blinding headlamp of the train as it approached, casting images of crystal chandeliers and ancient waiting benches in sharp silhouette against the walls and on the ceiling. Where the creeping fingers of darkness stretched across the ceiling, they crawled across a mural of angels flying amongst the clouds; an image already obscured by a century’s worth of dust and soot.

From behind the glaring light, the front of an ancient black locomotive started to resolve out of the gloom. It was a relic of an earlier time; a steam engine followed by a long line of ornate passenger cars, which rolled up to the platform like a great steel serpent. Lights gleamed through the train’s curtained windows, casting moving rectangles of jeweled light on the station’s tiled floor.
As the train slowed, the young woman was able to make out words carved into wood grain on every other car. “Southampton Line” was written on them in golden relief. Perhaps, she thought idly, Southampton was the train’s final destination. She didn’t really know where that was, but it sounded fine to her. When she had bought her ticket for the two AM train, she hadn’t bothered to check where it went. As long as it would take her away from Middleton, she didn’t really care.
Reaching into her purse, the woman took out her train ticket, looking over it to make sure that everything was in order. Her name was on the top, followed by, ‘board 1 for Southampton Line’, and then the departure time. Nowhere was there any mention of where the train went, except for a small notation at the bottom, ‘Middleton to Domestic Station. No Passport Required.’

When the row of cars finally ground to a half in front of her, the young woman got ready to climb on board. With her ticket in hand, she zipped up her purse and walked a few feet down the station to where a door slid open on the side of the train.

Just before she could step off of the platform and onto the stairs leading into the passenger car, the young woman thought that she saw a shadow passing by one of the windows further down the line. When she looked again, though, she saw nothing but pale amber light passing through a burgundy curtain to cast a vivid red pool on the floor. A brief image of a man with a knife shot through her mind before she could force it out. She was just paranoid, she told herself, and after all that had happened over the past few days, who could really blame her? Still, it took almost physical courage for her to step over the threshold and into the warm, musty interior of the train car.
If you want to read more, just hit me up =P

Best answer:

Answer by Tara
This sounds good. =] Very descriptive. good work! =]

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