MCYT Oneshots And Other Random Stuff

Waiting For A Train

Wilbur Soot was waiting for a train.

The station was dark and cold, the only lighting harsh and red. No trains zipped along the tracks below the platform. None had for a very, very long time.

Wilbur was waiting for a train that would never come. And he had been for years.

He had been dark inside when he died, he knew that. But now it seemed as if he was even darker, twisted and desolate.

Sometimes the other dead spirits would pass through the station, but they did not come on trains. They came from doors Wilbur could not follow them back through.

This was his existence, now. Lonely, his only friends being the cards he used to play solitaire.

Wilbur wished he could sing again. But though he still had his guitar, he couldn't quite bring himself to play. His music was his heart and his soul put into sound.

Here he had neither.

He could only wait.

Wait for a train.

Years passed.

And then his train arrived.

Sleek black metal, wheels screaming against the rails. The doors slid open without so much as a creak, and two figures stepped out.

One of the figures was blond, with a mask. The other— it was Wilbur, but his skin and hair and eyes were gray. Tears coursed down his face, causing smoke to rise from his cheeks, as if the liquid was burning him.

"No, please," the sobbing one begged. "I don't... I don't want to die."

"You're already dead, Ghostbur," the other figure said bluntly. He turned to Wilbur, facing him with that smiley mask he could never forget.

"Dream," Wilbur breathed.

"Sorry for the wait, Mr. Soot." Dream leaned against the train car with a smirk.

Then he spoke the words Wilbur had been waiting for so long to hear.

"Your train has arrived."

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wheeeeeeeeee