1943 By Darcy Monteath

By Anna Garthwaite | Posted: Monday October 17, 2016

Inspired by our Hair Raiser tour.

1943, the sun rises on a surprisingly warm winter’s morning. The air is trapped by a wall of smoke and the Hyde train lies on it’s side. Elizabeth’s black and burnt arms cover a hole in her stomach and thick black liquid spills out of her mouth. Her once porcelain face is red and black. Her tears. Singed lines on her cheeks mark her fear and her tongue is grey from smoke. Big blisters boil under her dead skin.

The Hyde train is gone. And it’s taken Elizabeth Morgan with it.


She met him the night before outside the train station when Elizabeth finished her work shift at the hospital. Mr Fletcher was a train driver. He only drove at midnight. Elizabeth heard people gossip about the Hyde train. They said that the previous driver died when the train caught fire. He was never seen again. Anyone who went on the train at midnight, never came back alive. Elizabeth didn't believe it. She hated all the gossip.

Fake, fake, fake. All fake.


The day she met Mr Fletcher, Elizabeth was working in the children's ward at the Dunedin hospital. She had found yet another 3 poor victims to move into the morgue. These children all had a horrid case of Tuberculosis. “Terrible” Elizabeth mumbled as she ripped off the crusty white sheets now stained with aged blood. She shuddered and wheeled the dead bodies out of the ward. But she didn’t know what lurked around the corner.

She finished her work shift. The night air crisp and refreshing on her hot face as she walked out the door. As always, she felt a slight tinge of worry in the moonlit alleyway but that night, it felt stronger than ever. The sky was jet black and sharp cuts of wind sliced at her face. Rain splintered her neck as she huddled in her woollen jacket and silently crept over to the train station. Then, she saw him. Mr Fletcher. She was in shock, in awe of his beauty. She felt dizzy, amazed at his perfection. It's 12:00 in the morning. She clambered into his train.

Black leather seats cushioned with even blacker velvet blankets. The train’s beauty was almost as perfect as Mr Fletcher. No one was in the train apart from Elizabeth. And him.

His voice whispered through the speaker. Deep, crisp, pure.”Welcome, welcome aboard the Hyde train.” a whispered laugh echoed through the air. He comes down the train walking towards her.

“Ahh.” Elizabeth sighed. She closed her eyes and started to relax but the train started warming up and orange smoke coiled through the air, “Welcome aboard” Elizabeth could feel Mr Fletcher’s breathing close up by her face. “Where is your next stop?” He laughs. His transparent body is soaked up by the smoke that cakes the air. His last cackle echoes and bounces off the wall of flames that surround Elizabeth. Scared and alone she wailed and screamed.She spluttered and cried. She took her last breath. Her last sight. Her last taste. Death was looming closer than ever.

Trapped in the pounding sea of flames as she prayed for her life. But the Hyde train had gone. And Elizabeth had gone with it.


1965, Nicholas McMillan stands at the train station. 12:00 in the morning. He spots her. Gorgeous, bright, stunning. She’s a passenger on the train. He’s mesmerized. The moon seems to be shining right through her. Like she is some sort of ghost. A magical one. Her eyes are closed. She is relaxed and calm. Nicholas is eager to talk to her, but little did he know what happened to this lady, and what would happen next. “Don’t jump on the train Nicholas!” Someone shouts in the distance.

He had jumped on alive at night, but he won’t be home to greet his family in the morning.