Strangers On A Train の小説・ストーリー

“You must be seeing things. It’s impossible.” “Maybe there is something wrong with my eyes.” The train driver also did not believe that such things would happen. He had been working on this job for years, but he had never encountered such a thing. If they had stumbled across it for real, this hard-to-believe incident was not much different from coming across a paranormal event. The whole train continued forward, all the way toward Chiang Rai City. Tyr and the rest sat on top of the train’s last wagon and enjoyed the scenery along the way.

Dale found his physique and eloquence funny. Soon some group of men began pouring down the train and running towards the obstacle. They all had the same dress code, an oversized trouser with pointed ends, some had scarfs on their heads and those that didn't were either half bald-headed or hairless. Dale got engulfed in the scene. She wondered how many more of the strange men still remained, if they were friendly humans, she also wondered if they had any woman on board. Where they like Ken? If she pleaded for assistance, would she be allowed in?

“THE STRANGER ON THE TRAIN” CHAPTER 51 AMARA The train station at midnight smells like rust and bad decisions. I clutched my duffel bag until the strap bit into my palm, the worn fabric digging into my skin. The ticket machine blinked at me, asking for a destination. And I stared at it like it held all the answers I'd been searching for. I punched in the farthest city on the list… somewhere I've never been, where no one knew my name and definitely not somewhere the ghost of my engagement ring could find me.

A white flash of light consumed all six of them. They awoke in their regular clothes, in a sleeping state, aboard what looked like an elevated train. Click-clack. The wheels rumbled over the tracks. Flickering lights cast shadows as the train swayed side to side, waking everyone at the same time. "What in the world—?" an elderly woman muttered. "Yo, who are you? How did we get here?" a young man demanded. An older man approached Charlene. "Do you know who I am?" Charlene met his gaze, her voice steady. "Yes, I do. Your name is Tony Lorenzo. You died recently, and now you’re on your journey to your final destination. So are all of you."

She fought it for a few seconds but the invisible fingers between her legs moved directly on her clit. I made it feel like a wet tongue was on her through her soaked panties. Emily bit her lip hard enough to draw blood and then slipped her hand under her skirt right there in the packed train car. The train moved on. More people got on at the next stop. Someone behind me struggled against my back, but I didn’t care. My focus was laser-sharp on Emily. I rewrote her sight next. To her eyes, the crowded car transformed. The strangers around her weren’t just taking the train: they were naked stroking themselves while staring at her with lust.

Alejandro's men could be anywhere; the last thing she needed was to create a scene. "You don't know me. Stay away from me!" She started to hasten away from him. "Hey! Hey! Sofia! Stop! Para!" Sofia didn't stop. The train had stopped, and passengers were already boarding. She clutched her bag and moved on. If one of Alejandro's men had seen her in a train station, she couldn't afford to board a train out of New York. She continued to hasten away until the stranger's voice calling at her became inaudible.

‎ ‎The furniture was near and cold, like it was placed to be look at. ‎ ‎A stranger was sitting on a chair, closer to my bed. Leaning on the chair as if he owns the hotel. He was watching me and relaxing in a way that made my heart beat faster. ‎ ‎He looked awake. ‎ ‎Too awake. ‎Like he was waiting for me to wake up. ‎ ‎" who are you" I ask my voice being low. ‎ ‎He raised his eyebrows sightly, you don't remember. ‎ ‎I swallowed and pushed myself up, they movement sent headache to my head and body pain to my body. My body felt sore in a strange way, the memories of yesterday's sex came rushing in my head.

"I have your eggs." Nodding a goodbye to Roland, Iris headed to Lita- bluebells, bickering, rooster- and accepted each egg carefully, nestling them into safe spots in the basket. "Rina sends you greetings," Iris started, after Lita handed over the last egg. "And she wants you to know that you should stop bickering over her rooster, since he'll be joining her soon." Lita stiffened and tried to smooth over a pained expression. "Is that all?"

“Boom!!” The collision of the three cars sent flames going up the sky, with a few more cars running into them, the black Bugatti went flying over the bridge, following it was a BMW and screams could be heard going up in a crescendo. It wasn’t a lovely scene at all, alarms blaring, people running around in panic. The birds who found comfort by the bridge rails all took off for their dear lives, people who were lucky to not get knocked over the rails jumped out of their cars and took to their heels.

Almost instinctively, I pulled out my phone and checked my browsing history for the video from last night. In it, the side profiles of the two elderly people were identical to the faces of my in-laws standing before me now. If the clip hadn't flashed by so quickly, I would have recognized them right away. And in other videos—those fleeting, fragmented moments—my wife, Cynthia Muller, appeared again and again, holding a child in her arms. The little boy called her "Mom" with intimate affection. Under a sky lit by fireworks, the man held her close and kissed her.