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>> No. 4779 Anonymous
17th April 2019
Wednesday 10:59 pm
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One of the worst things of commuting via the Tube is the smell. Cheap cologne, halitosis, sweat, rotting organic matter, I never got used to it. A couple of month ago I was on the Tube, sandwiched between a Polish worker smelling like rotting kielbasa and a British lady that tried to drown her revolting period smell with cologne, wondering whether to commit suicide or hope for a terrorist attack.

Then I noticed that the person in front of me had no smell. Nothing, no stink, no chemical odour, not even the fresh smell of somebody that just showered. Just nothing. I put on my glasses and started looking at him, and I noticed that he was sitting still as a stone, completely immobile, not reacting to any of the many "distractions" of the commute. He did not even flinch when a young member of the local fauna screamed at 60 decibel next to his ear.

I went on my commute, and forgot about him, but the next days I started noticing other people showing the same characteristics. My enhanced sense of smell, a curse on my life since childhood, allowed me to spot them, but I could not see any of them standing up, or interacting with anything in the coach. I managed to observe some peculiar facts, however:

They always travelled alone. I have never seen more than one of them in a train, except for a special occasion I will talk about later.
They never interacted with anyone or anything.
They never reacted to any phenomena, no matter how dangerous or unpleasant.
Their look and dress were unremarkable, so unremarkable that I had serious difficulties in keeping my gaze on them. A second of distraction was enough to forget about them until I was off the train.
Expand all images.
>> No. 4780 Anonymous
17th April 2019
Wednesday 11:02 pm
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Delete this if you want to survive the night.
>> No. 4781 Anonymous
17th April 2019
Wednesday 11:12 pm
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Little by little those people, that I will call the "Passengers", started to become more and more interesting to me. I looked on the Internet about the phenomena, and I could find only stupid "creepypasta" threads and stories. I resolved to keep observing. If I had any friends or family I could have enlisted their help, but my last girlfriend just walked away years ago and my last conversation with a friend was in college.

I experimented with some different paths, and I've found that they are more frequent on the trains coming from outside London, especially on the Kings Cross station. Luckily, my crappy commute took me there twice at day. They were quite rare, however.

Going on the commute and hoping to see a Passenger was the only respite from a life that was akin of the life of a sewer rat, with the difference that a sewer rat is supposed to mate several times. Not that I had any inclination to mate, the combo of diabetes, obesity, hard drinking, depression and missed sleep killed my libido years ago.

Last time I saw a Passenger I noticed that something strange was happening: another Passenger was sitting in front of him. The other Passenger was a little different, but he was as unremarkable as him. They were looking each other, straight in the eyes, their faces as unreadable as stone.

I decided to throw caution to the wind. What could happen to me? I was determined to stay there until the train stopped or those two freaks did something. The worst thing that could happen to me was to end up in some train station in Cuntshire and be stabbed by two madmen. That would be a welcome respite from my shit life.
>> No. 4782 Anonymous
17th April 2019
Wednesday 11:23 pm
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When the train emptied at the last stop, one of them said: "Go away", without moving his head or his eyes.

The other said, in a similar way: "Go. If you want it, find somebody like us and follow him"

"But only if he is alone", said the first one with a robotic, droning tone.

I ran away in panic, nearby tripping over some oogabooga that was coming to clean the train. I was in some station in Cunthenham, my work day was fucked and I had no idea what to do. I sat dawn, waiting for the freaks to be kicked out by the cleaner or the police.

The train departed.

I arrived at work four hours late. The little cuntish manager started yelling at me, but how could I listen to his shit? I had finally seen something supernatural, finally I had found something that meant that I could get away from that crap life somehow. That was important, not his pointless drivel.

I am no fighter, not at all. But when the little cunt started yelling and pushing at me, I punched him so hard that I broke his jaw and knocked out several teeth. I also fractured every single bone in my right hand, but I did not notice it until the next day.
>> No. 4783 Anonymous
18th April 2019
Thursday 12:00 am
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More please.
>> No. 4784 Anonymous
18th April 2019
Thursday 12:19 am
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I received some calls while I was in hospital. Some top manager wanted to get rid of the little cunt, and they already had some dirt on him. The cameras showed that he hit me first, so I got away without a penal record. Also, I was advised to resign.

I could not fucking care less. I managed to find the hidden exit from the rat race of life, and I was determined to use it.

I emptied my bank account, took some "payday loans" with the shadiest companies I could find. I sold off everything on Craigslist and I stopped paying rent.

I have bought a fine hiking backpack and I filled it out with everything useful for a long trek into the unknown: lightweight food, a water purifier, camping supplies, a dynamo powered flashlight and charger, and whatever weapons I could legally buy.

I have also bought some knife-proof clothing from some crazy survivalist in Londonistan, made with the same synthetic fabric they use for the blade proof gloves for the factory worker. With those clothes and my military surplus combat boots I am ready for anything, even if I look like an idiot.

I've taken Krav Maga and knife fighting lessons. I've spent some afternoon learning how to use a slingshot, but I've never really liked it. It is more a weapon for an hunter than for a fighter. At least, I have something legal that can kill at a distance.

I am ready. My escape from the rat race begins tomorrow. I will find a way to escape this shit world, or die trying.
>> No. 4785 Anonymous
18th April 2019
Thursday 12:52 am
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The first and the second day of aimless travelling were useless. No Passenger at all, only common commuters, all weary, tired and miserable. My worst fears were coming alive. Had I destroyed my life, my future and my career to chase up a ghost, a crazy figment of my imagination.

Maybe I wished so much for an escape from this world that I hallucinated it?

How would I survive in Londonistan without a job and with a questionable reference from my last employer? I am not a refugee from Cuntistan or a mama with eight offsprings, there is no way I can get welfare. Will I end up as another crazy homeless?

I raised my head, alerted by the anomaly of my thrice-accursed sense. No-smell was sitting in a corner seat of the aisle, near the window. He was the stereotype of the British middle class posh office cunt, all dressed up.

I walked through the crowded carriage and sat in front of him, defiant. He did not move.

When the carriage started to empty he talked. To be more precise, a sound came from his face but he did not move his lips:

"If you follow me now, there is no way back"

"I always hated this place. I will not miss it.", I replied with fake nonchalance. I was scared shitless, but I was not going to tell him.

"I am talking about this entire reality, not about the city." His so called voice was like the buzz from a big insect, modulated to form words.

"Me too"
>> No. 4787 Anonymous
18th April 2019
Thursday 1:46 pm
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You get me all intrigued then disappear? Did the robot people get you?
>> No. 4789 Anonymous
18th April 2019
Thursday 4:38 pm
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"Do not talk. Do not move a muscle, otherwise they will see you", said the Passenger.

"Take all you belonging with you", said the jolly, robotic voice of the announcer. I hated that voice with every fibre of my being, but in the following years I missed it.

The train started to move again. In a couple of minutes the noise of the wheels changed, like we were travelling on another set of rails, built in a different way. The "clack-clack" sound became a "clack-thump-clack", unnerving in its alienness.

The train stopped in an underground station, and the doors opened. The first thing that I noticed was the smell: a rich aroma of cinnamon, lemon and vanilla. Then the voices, in an indecipherable foreign language. Then, a sound that you will never hear on the Tube: a rich, hearty laugh, the kind of laugh that only a sane, healthy and happy person can have.

The people that started to enter the coach were human, but they had a very tanned skin, almost black, covered with deep scarification and tribal tattoos. Their traits were West African, probably from Ivory Coast or Mali, their clothing a wild mess of garish colours. I immediately noted that nobody travelled alone, they all moved in groups of either six or eight people, man and women mixing without order, joking, laughing and speaking with each other and people of other groups. I quickly noticed that every (group? tribe? extended family? clan?) wore a different smell, probably as a sign of allegiance.

The seat next to me was occupied by a six feet tall lady, about 25 years old, with a red, yellow and blue dress similar to a saree and smelling of honey and coconut. I risked a glance in her direction, she had at least an E-cup. I had to restrain myself from turning around and burying my face and my raging hardon on that massive rack. Only the glare from my fellow Passenger kept me from doing that.

Ah, and the fact that she and her (brothers? cousins? coworkers?) would have royally kicked my ass.

Nobody paid us any attention during the trip. After six stops the train emptied while a deep, musical voice announced something from outside. For a moment, we were alone. Then the Passenger stood up and walked out, with me on his heels. I wanted answers.
>> No. 4791 Anonymous
18th April 2019
Thursday 5:52 pm
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Ok this is just silly now. I've lost interest.
>> No. 4796 Anonymous
20th April 2019
Saturday 10:41 pm
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We were in an underground depot, softly lit by neon tubes. The architecture was familiar, but every single flat surface was covered with drawings, tribal markings and abstract decorations. Probably those people had a deep phobia of solid colours or a bad case of colourblindness, since there was nothing painted in solid colour anywhere. The effect was garish, but not tasteless.

"There are only two rules here", said the Passenger without turning to face me: "First, do not move or talk, otherwise the locals will notice you."

The Passenger kept walking leisurely, and I found it extremely rude and arrogant. His voice was also buzzing and irritating, like a phone with bad reception. Thinking about phones, I took my Iphone out. No reception, obviously. Not even emergency calls.

"Second, you have only seven stops in each reality. The last stop will be a depot or something similar. If you stay on the train, you will switch to a different reality set."

I stopped to lean on the wall. That was too much, simply too much in a single moment. My brain had just shut down, I could not process anything anymore. My sense saved me again, this time I smelled saliva, sweat, the typical smell of red haired people and old blood. Especially blood. I raised my right knee and kicked hard and low on the back, a perfect back kick. My trainer would have been proud of me. I felt something fragile snap on the knee of my fellow Passenger, I dropped my backpack and stepped ahead to avoid any follow up attack. I turned around, ready to fight, but the fight already ended. My new friend was on the ground, rolled in a ball and clutching a shattered knee, his body thin and frail, his face a broad, squat, ugly mess with a mass of repulsive freckles and a broken nose.

"You sneaky bastard, coming from behind like that!", then I kicked it hard in the shoulder, I wanted to be sure to incapacitate it but I wanted some more answers before stomping him for good.

"Feck off, I am hungry!", he cried while trying to cover his ugly face.

"Well, I cannot help it, but I defend my backpack from fucking little thieves", I said before kicking him in the hip, hard. I felt something cracking, and I understood that I had to hurry with the questions before I ended up killing it.

"So, how can a monster like you speak the Queen's English? Do you have grammar schools in Ginger land?" I asked without getting any nearer. God knows, maybe he's armed somehow.

"You look as alien to me as I look alien to you", it cried out with something like outrage: "and I am speaking in my language! There is something translating our languages and keeping the locals from seeing us, you idiot!"

I was taken aback a little. "You are smart and funny, and we could have been friends if you were not a little fucking monster. Now die." I wanted to punch it to death, but I was too squeamish to touch him. I kicked its head until it stopped moving, then I just kicked him on the tracks. The next train will turn him into mincemeat.

My instinct drove me to get as far away as possible from the mess I made. It was the first time I hit somebody with a killer intent, even in my worst rages I always felt that killing somebody would be innately wrong, unnatural. This time, killing that little bastard was natural, the sanest and best thing to do.

Maybe it was just sanctioned by the immediate situation, so I did it. I had a lot of thinking to do, and this time I did not spend much time admiring the local culture. There will be time for that, afterwards. After five stops, I found myself in an empty station, nobody was around although it was the middle of the day.

Maybe those people liked to have a "siesta" during the hottest hours of the day. I helped myself with some food left in a counter in an empty shop, evidently those people did not fear thieves or vandals. I had never eaten rice so thick and spicy in my life, my next bathroom experience was going to be a blazing nightmare.

I sat down on a beautifully decorated wooden bench, and I waited. At about three the activity resumed, lots of happy, people coming and going without a care in the world.

I started thinking deeply. I never regarded myself as "good" or "bad", I never identified in any ideal or in any belief. I always went with the flow, doing whatever was expected from me and refraining from doing whatever was frowned upon. About 99% of what I thought and did, was a direct consequence of what society asked. Outside that society, I was nothing. I only had a vague awareness that I was living in an horrible, smelly place.

Now I was in a different place, much happier and more colourful, and the first thing I did was killing somebody? What kind of person I was, when put outside my society?

For now, I was just an observer. I spent several hours looking at that strange culture, those people were colourful in their clothing and manner, completely different from the grey and miserable commuters from the Tube. Often they erupted in loud laughter, spontaneous dancing or slapstick. They looked like they always lived their life onstage, and they always went around in their strange eight or six people group. Maybe their culture had no individuality, only a series of small group consciousness? I will never know.

At some point, the hands of the big clock went on a symmetrical position, and a group of six incredibly tall ladies started singing something like soul music, filling the station with their beautiful voices. I wanted to cry, to scream, to stand up and kneel in front of them, to ask humbly to be accepted by their community. But I kept myself on the bench, I was sure that they would have been repulsed by me like I was repulsed by the little bloodsucker. I am short, doughy, pastry skinned, obese and without tattoos, probably I would have looked like a monster to them.

I spent a couple of days there. Nobody ever glanced in my direction, even the cleaning ladies cleaned the floor all around me without ever looking. I ate in the restaurant during the nights or the siesta, taking small portions of the mildest foods. They never noticed, or they were too noble-minded to deny food to a shy beggar. Every day, the ladies sang and every time my heart melted. Why those people should be so happy, while I was born in the shittiest culture of my planet?

I noticed is that there were some people that walked alone, silent, dressed in simple white robes. Nobody interacted with them, and everyone just fell silent and averted their eyes. Maybe they were mourners or people punished for some crime. One day I saw that lady from my first trip, dressed in that white robe, alone, silent, vulnerable.

Something in my mind snapped, never to heal back.

I stood up in the nearly empty station, and I followed her, my backpack in one hand and a telescopic baton in the other. I left my country, my job and my life because I wanted to be happy, and I was going to take the happiness somehow.
>> No. 4797 Anonymous
20th April 2019
Saturday 10:42 pm
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I reached her halfway on some stairs, she did not hear me until it was too late. She turned around and when she noticed me her eyes went round, her mouth and nostrils opening in a mixture of fear and disgust. I did not gave her time to scream. I pushed her down the stairs, hard. She fell down, trying to grab the handrail, but I hit her hard on the hand, then on the head, until she was half unconscious. I tied up her wrists with some electricians zip ties (perfect for this kind of things) and I raped her furiously. She was completely dry, and I had to struggle before I could get inside her. I ripped her dress, I punched her in her most vulnerable places, I did anything possible to get a reaction. She just laid down like a broken doll, looking at me with eyes full of disgust and piety.

When I finished I stood up, unsure on what to do. I gave in to my most bestial urges, but I did not get any pleasure from it. The lady just brought her hands to her ripped dress and took a ceremonial dagger out from a hidden pocket, then she slashed her own throat in a single movement. She could have killed me from the beginning, but she was already so defiled by my presence that she preferred to die.

That was the moment that my humanity dried up and died.

I walked to the platform and took the first train. Seven stops later, and I was in a different reality. In that world, people looked either Russians or Chinese, the coach was like something from the fifties, people smelled bad, drank, smoked and fought without any reason. In the week I spent there, I've seen more than two dozens of brawls and at least one homicide. That place was the first reality where I faced and killed a man in a (more or less) fair fight.

The following reality was even worse. Only my stab proof vest saved me, but it was ruined.

I tried to rest, to meditate, to clear my mind and soul (assuming that I still had it) before departing, and the next reality was less aggressive than that. In that place, people looked like Malay of Filipino, short, stocky, with the tired looks of hard workers. The carriages were incredibly crowded and filthy, but nobody took notice of me except for a local priest that threw some powdered spices at me. Maybe he was trying to exorcise me, in that case he failed.

I strangled him in the link between two carriages, I dumped his body out of the window and went back to my seat. In the following months I stalked and killed several people, I only stopped when the trains started to go empty and the travellers hired armed guards. I left a guard decapitated on a passengers seat, his unfired pistol still in his hand.

Now I am in this reality. I have somehow access to the Internet, my first phone was fried up when I tried to connect it to a local charger. Now I am using a local phone (do not ask).

You can get to other realities, if you follow one of the Passengers. The only problem is that the reality you will get to will be tailored to you. A good person will end up in a pleasant place, somebody like me will always end in a Hell. You cannot run away from your own soul. You can run away from an abusive boss or husband, but if you are tainted you will end up with another boss or husband even more abusive than the first.

In my years of travel I have been discovered sometimes. I always agreed to guide other people outside their realities, even if I always discouraged it. Some of them thanked me and went on their merry way, one of them tried to kill me, another one offered to mate with me (I refused).

I've called it the "Endless Subway". If you want to ride it, be my guest. Just remember that you cannot go back.
>> No. 4798 Anonymous
20th April 2019
Saturday 10:57 pm
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>> No. 4799 Anonymous
21st April 2019
Sunday 8:20 am
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U wot m8? I am from Brum, not from Wensleydale. Incidentally, I always liked regional cheeses. Any clue on where to find some?

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