England,
Boat Train, Dover - London Route
October 04, 1899, 5:48 p.m.

"Grace!"

The voice of her sister reached only hazily through the thick veil of her dream, in which she had been drowning and which she could no longer remember the very next moment.

"Grace! Wake up!" the voice insisted again.

With a groan, Grace blinked and tried to ignore the small, slender slopes tugging at her sleeve. But a shrill, drawn-out whistle finally tore her entirely from the embrace of her slumber. The monotonous, piercing rattle of the train they had been traveling displaced the last remnants of her dream in seconds.

Grace looked out the window where she had dozed off while leaning against the glass. Behind the pane, the landscape flew by. The setting sun painted long shadows on the fields and hills, and the leafless trees looked like skinny hands stretching their long fingers toward the fiery red sky.

Soon, the night would have swallowed up the last bit of autumn light and covered the world in shadows. Grace's tired brown eyes gazed back at her in the window's reflection. Hazelnut-colored hair fell in short strands across her face, and the rest gathered in a thick braid. It flowed over her narrow shoulders, grazing the collar of the blue Sunday dress she had worn today to visit her grandparents in Dover. Freckles covered her nose, and she opened her mouth for a hearty yawn as she turned away from the passing fields and farms - and towards another, all-too-familiar sight: Her little sister Felice, who curled her lips into a pouted mouth.

"I'm bored!" Felice announced, wiping a strand of her street-wise blonde hair from her chubby face. The ten-year-old's fawn eyes looked expectantly at her older sister. "Play something with me."

"We'll be arriving at the station soon," Grace mumbled, giving her mother a help-seeking look.

"Your sister's right, Felice. I'm sure it'll only be a few more minutes." Her mother laughed good-naturedly, put aside the crochet she always carried on the long train journey, and glanced out the window momentarily. With an auditory hiss, a small station slid past the train and disappeared in a flash. Meanwhile, the number of houses beyond the small window of her cabin steadily increased, and the rural silhouettes gave way more and more to the scenery of the London suburbs.

"We've already passed Belham," her mother commented, and a slight wrinkle of astonishment appeared on her forehead. The train rumbled over the tracks, rocking slightly back and forth... and suddenly, a jolt went through the passenger compartment.

The train took the bend far too quickly; the carriage tilted slightly, and, with a startled exclamation, the three of them slid painfully against the wall. The crochet hook fell from the cushion and rolled across the floor.

Grace instinctively reached for her little sister as the train swung back into position.

"Mama!" gasped Grace as Felice's fingers dug into her dress, sobbing and pulling it into messy folds.

"Are you all right?" Her mother's worried gaze slid over her young daughters. She reached for them with trembling fingers and stroked their heads comfortingly.

"Everything's fine," she said firmly, but Grace could hear her voice trembling treacherously. Nevertheless, she nodded; she wanted her younger sister to realize they were both afraid. Then, her mother braced herself and bridged the two steps to the sliding door of her compartment.

"Both of you stay here and be good. I'm looking for the conductor."

A soft squeak accompanied the door opening as she pushed down the handle and stepped into the narrow corridor. Due to its breakneck speed, the train swayed more and more. The compartment door clicked shut again, and the train's snorting sounds quickly swallowed up the clacking of her mother's heels.

Grace heard the mighty pounding of the pistons driving the vast wheels, accompanied by the loud, steady hiss of steam.

"What's going on?" asked Felice, clutching the armrests.

"I don't know," Grace answered honestly.

"Maybe the train driver can't find the brake," Felice speculated, causing the two sisters to giggle.

That eased the tense atmosphere a little.

"Or he just wants to get home quicker," they continued to joke.

At that moment, the loud, piercing whistle of the locomotive sounded—a long, drawn-out sound, almost like a prolonged scream, which finally fell silent. The carriage swayed, and somewhere, she heard cursing, then the scraping of doors again. There were footsteps in the corridor, then silence.

The minutes passed slowly, dragged on like honey dripping from a spoon, and seemed never-ending.

"Where's mom?" Felice finally asked, nervously sliding back and forth on the seat cushion.

"I don't know, and I think we're almost there," Grace mused. Meanwhile, the houses whizzed past the window. No more whistling, just rattling. "Stay here, will you? Don't go away. I'm going to check on Mom."

Grace jumped from her seat and staggered to the door. She hurriedly slipped out and peered into the corridor, even though her younger sister whined and begged her to stay.

The conversations of fellow passengers, the rustling of newspapers, the clattering of dishes in the dining car—everything had stopped. The other compartment doors were closed, and the carriage was silent.

'How strange,' the girl thought. Something was not quite right here.

The train started to sway again, and Grace hit the wall hard. The carriage rocked, and a sinking feeling built up in her stomach.

Suddenly, the hissing and roaring of the pistons seemed abnormally loud to her. Shouldn't the train be slowing down?

A loud crash made her jump in fright. Eyes wide open, she stared at the connecting door to the compartment, which must have slammed shut due to the train's shaking.

Just the door. What's wrong with you? You're not a coward,' Grace said to herself silently, turning around. But for some reason, her heart wouldn't listen to her reassuring words and continued to beat wildly in her tiny chest.

Further back in the carriage was the conductor's compartment. But she couldn't find her mother here. The carriage swayed once more.

"Whew!" This time, she caught herself before hitting her shoulder hard again. Wobbling, Grace rushed towards the conductor's compartment. With growing nervousness, her small fist banged against the wood of the sturdy sliding door, which had a small window further up.

"Hello? Excuse me?" she called loudly against the roar and hiss of the train.

No answer.

So Grace knocked again, more forcefully now.

"Hello? I'm looking for our mother! Is anyone there?" she called out, reaching for the brass handle. Grace noticed that it was very worn. Strange, the details that burn themselves into your mind at times like this.

The lock clicked, and the door slid to the side - but only a little; there was just a gap. Then it stuck and stopped with a jolt. It was almost as if someone was blocking it from the other side - so Grace froze after half a step.

>>splat<<

Irritated, her eyes fell on her feet, where she must have just stepped in something wet.

There, on the smoothly polished wood, was a dark red stain. Grace stared and was frozen at the same time.

Almost mechanically, her gaze slid along the floor into the room beyond and lingered on the corpse of the conductor, lying lifeless on the floor in his own blood. Grace's heart stopped, and her mouth formed a silent scream. She staggered back a step and gasped for air.

The carriage rocking caused her to lose her balance, and she fell backward with a dull thud. She wanted to call for help, but as her whole body began to tremble, all she could manage was a hoarse whimper.

Hot tears streamed down her pale cheeks as she crawled uncoordinated backward. Panic-stricken, her legs almost got caught in the fabric of her dress. Another train lurch caused the carriage to lurch to one side and the door in front of her to fall back into the lock with a loud >>wham!<<.

At that moment, a shrill scream came from behind her.

'Felice!'

Every muscle in Grace's body tensed as if buckets of ice-cold water were being poured over her head. She was unable to form a clear thought. Her thoughts had been severed as if they were coming loose like the loose stitches in her mother's embroidery.

The girl hastily tried to get up.

She wanted to get to her sister.

She had to run.

Run - and get away from the blood.

"Felice!" she gasped in a mixture of screams and moans.

She was so scared to the ground.

Where was her mother?

Suddenly, a voice sounded.

Like a whisper or a soft song, it rose and penetrated between the other noises, displacing them like rain pushes away the mists. Then, a woman she didn't know stepped out of their cabin.

Grace stared at the pale, sunken features, the long black hair, and the blood-stained lips.

A new shake struck the carriage - this time, a much stronger one. Grace heard the groaning of steel and the bursting of wood.

Then everything sank into infinite darkness.