Post by cannonlongshot on Oct 19, 2016 23:39:23 GMT
So I realised that we won't be getting spooked by Jonny this Thursday, so I thought I'd set the community a challenge - can we come up with a spooky little short story every Thursday until 6/12/16? I was thinking that if we can get people to volunteer in advance they might be able to come up with a better story than I did in the hour before my self-imposed (and missed) midnight deadline.
Also, yes, Jonny, the gig is the one you're thinking of, I was there, and this story isn't entirely based on true events
Please, let me know how Jonathan would react to this showing up on his desk if I have the characterisation wrong. 
Next Statement
Statement of Alex Cooke, regarding an encounter on the Night Tube. Statement written down by subject on 25th July, 2016
STATEMENT 0162507 BEGINS:
I don’t live in London. I don’t think that’s hugely relevant for this statement, but it might explain a little as to why I did what I did a few nights ago. I actually live in Guildford, which is a lovely little town. Or maybe it’s a city? I’ve never bothered to look around enough to see if there’s a cathedral, actually, because I moved here about 9 months ago to work, and work has been pretty much all I do. Well, except for Thursdays, when I visit my girlfriend, who, by the way, does live in London. I generally arrive into Waterloo about half 6, we have a meal somewhere along the Northern line after she finishes work, and we go our separate ways until the weekend. Sorry, that’s maybe not important. Well, I guess we won’t be doing that any more after what happened, but we’ll get to that.
Anyway, my girlfriend and I don’t share a taste in music - polar opposites, in fact - so when I got some tickets to see a mythological-space-cabaret she didn’t seem too keen. This was Saturday just gone, and the gig was up in Kilburn, so after staying with her for the day I headed up along the Jubilee line that evening with plenty of time to spare. Yes, everyone and their mother warned me about heading to Kilburn alone, but it was actually very nice. I ate some lovely Vietnamese food, while I listened to some podcasts - all in all, I was feeling pretty satisfied with my lot in life. The show, too, was great, but I won’t bore you with the details - you didn’t seem like the sort of person that would appreciate it when you handed me a pen and paper. Anyway, suffice to say that there was a large selection of beers and ciders at the bar, the band were wandering around until five minutes before the show making small talk, and I even ran into an acquaintance of mine from my university days in Nottingham, which is mad, because there must have been barely a hundred people in the venue. By the time the show was over, I‘d fallen in with a crowd, and we all decided it would be a great idea to find somewhere to go after the show, which we did. It must have been about half three in the morning and eight strong drinks later when we finally said our goodbyes, and I staggered back to Kilburn Tube station, having remembered that the night Tube was a service that existed. I don’t remember seeing anyone on my way through the station itself, though I’m not surprised given the time, as I assumed all staff would be sitting in a control room somewhere. The next thing I really remember is sitting alone on the train, staring at the text displaying the next stop, which was St John’s Wood, I believe. It was at that point I began to feel watched. Now, until that moment, I couldn’t have told you what being watched felt like, but all I can say is that on that train carriage, I felt it, and it’s a strange feeling to have when you’re alone on a Tube train.
And a very weird train carriage it was, as well. I hadn’t noticed before then, but it was an older carriage, one that still had the push-to-open-door buttons that they phased out years ago. This is odd, because the Jubilee line is one of the most modern lines in the whole Underground network. They have plastic walls to prevent people from tripping off platforms, the trains were fast, and they generally did not have the musty smell of cigarette smoke and aniseed that this carriage had. I assumed they were just using an old carriage for the night shifts. Anyway, it was after St John’s Wood that the feeling of being watched began to intensify and it began to have a physical effect on me. My neck hairs were standing straight out, and gooseflesh covered my arms from wrist to shoulder. At that point I kind of assumed I was having some kind of anxiety attack, and had just managed to take a few breaths when the train left Baker Street. It was at that point that I noticed that was no longer alone.
He looked perfectly ordinary, but the fact that he had appeared out of thin air shocked me so much that I can’t imagine anything about him now. I cannot stress this enough - that person had not entered from any of the stops we had made, and had not been on the train when it left Kilburn with me.
I leapt to my feet and backed away from him even as he gave chase, knowing, knowing, that this man, if it was a man, intended me harm. Somehow, that shocked me more than anything else. I had trespassed, unknowingly, drunkenly, into his realm, and he did not want me there. I tripped over my feet initially, and he was almost on me, but fear gave me an edge and I was up like a shot.
It was the push buttons that saved me in the end. The carriage was long, and while fleeing I managed to be by a door just as the train pulled in to Bond Street. I didn’t stop running until I was out into the cold night. I don’t think I was followed, but I stayed the night in Green Park rather than making my way to my station back to Guildford. I came into London this evening to give you this statement, but I have to say, I’m glad Waterloo is within walking distance of your Institute. I’m not sure I could have handled public transport.
STATEMENT ENDS
Archivist’s Notes: It’s bad enough that this job puts me in contact with the sort of people who think that half a dozen shots of tequila will attune them to the land of the dead, but having to read their rambling statements about their bizarre music taste really does beggar belief. Mr. Cooke’s statement differs from reality in so many places I didn’t even need any of the others to cross check the facts. Chiefly, the night Tube for the Jubilee line wasn’t running before October, three months after this statement was made. To be honest, I’m rather sorry I put this statement to one side back then, as I might have been more tempted to file it straight under “Discredited”. CCTV, of course, shows no sign of Mr. Cooke at all, and his Oyster card and debit card have no record of being used at the times he claims. I can only assume that alcohol, coupled with a sleep-deprived and music-fuelled imagination, has left Mr. Cooke confused as to how he got home that night. Except… I wonder if it’s my imagination, but at around 03:48 in the morning at Bond Street, the station immediately after Mr. Cooke claims he first saw the figure,there’s an artefact that appears for a few frames on the camera feed facing the Southbound Jubilee platform. I can’t shake the feeling that it looks like a train passing through the station, at very high speed.
END NOTES
Also, yes, Jonny, the gig is the one you're thinking of, I was there, and this story isn't entirely based on true events
Please, let me know how Jonathan would react to this showing up on his desk if I have the characterisation wrong. 
Next Statement
Statement of Alex Cooke, regarding an encounter on the Night Tube. Statement written down by subject on 25th July, 2016
STATEMENT 0162507 BEGINS:
I don’t live in London. I don’t think that’s hugely relevant for this statement, but it might explain a little as to why I did what I did a few nights ago. I actually live in Guildford, which is a lovely little town. Or maybe it’s a city? I’ve never bothered to look around enough to see if there’s a cathedral, actually, because I moved here about 9 months ago to work, and work has been pretty much all I do. Well, except for Thursdays, when I visit my girlfriend, who, by the way, does live in London. I generally arrive into Waterloo about half 6, we have a meal somewhere along the Northern line after she finishes work, and we go our separate ways until the weekend. Sorry, that’s maybe not important. Well, I guess we won’t be doing that any more after what happened, but we’ll get to that.
Anyway, my girlfriend and I don’t share a taste in music - polar opposites, in fact - so when I got some tickets to see a mythological-space-cabaret she didn’t seem too keen. This was Saturday just gone, and the gig was up in Kilburn, so after staying with her for the day I headed up along the Jubilee line that evening with plenty of time to spare. Yes, everyone and their mother warned me about heading to Kilburn alone, but it was actually very nice. I ate some lovely Vietnamese food, while I listened to some podcasts - all in all, I was feeling pretty satisfied with my lot in life. The show, too, was great, but I won’t bore you with the details - you didn’t seem like the sort of person that would appreciate it when you handed me a pen and paper. Anyway, suffice to say that there was a large selection of beers and ciders at the bar, the band were wandering around until five minutes before the show making small talk, and I even ran into an acquaintance of mine from my university days in Nottingham, which is mad, because there must have been barely a hundred people in the venue. By the time the show was over, I‘d fallen in with a crowd, and we all decided it would be a great idea to find somewhere to go after the show, which we did. It must have been about half three in the morning and eight strong drinks later when we finally said our goodbyes, and I staggered back to Kilburn Tube station, having remembered that the night Tube was a service that existed. I don’t remember seeing anyone on my way through the station itself, though I’m not surprised given the time, as I assumed all staff would be sitting in a control room somewhere. The next thing I really remember is sitting alone on the train, staring at the text displaying the next stop, which was St John’s Wood, I believe. It was at that point I began to feel watched. Now, until that moment, I couldn’t have told you what being watched felt like, but all I can say is that on that train carriage, I felt it, and it’s a strange feeling to have when you’re alone on a Tube train.
And a very weird train carriage it was, as well. I hadn’t noticed before then, but it was an older carriage, one that still had the push-to-open-door buttons that they phased out years ago. This is odd, because the Jubilee line is one of the most modern lines in the whole Underground network. They have plastic walls to prevent people from tripping off platforms, the trains were fast, and they generally did not have the musty smell of cigarette smoke and aniseed that this carriage had. I assumed they were just using an old carriage for the night shifts. Anyway, it was after St John’s Wood that the feeling of being watched began to intensify and it began to have a physical effect on me. My neck hairs were standing straight out, and gooseflesh covered my arms from wrist to shoulder. At that point I kind of assumed I was having some kind of anxiety attack, and had just managed to take a few breaths when the train left Baker Street. It was at that point that I noticed that was no longer alone.
He looked perfectly ordinary, but the fact that he had appeared out of thin air shocked me so much that I can’t imagine anything about him now. I cannot stress this enough - that person had not entered from any of the stops we had made, and had not been on the train when it left Kilburn with me.
I leapt to my feet and backed away from him even as he gave chase, knowing, knowing, that this man, if it was a man, intended me harm. Somehow, that shocked me more than anything else. I had trespassed, unknowingly, drunkenly, into his realm, and he did not want me there. I tripped over my feet initially, and he was almost on me, but fear gave me an edge and I was up like a shot.
It was the push buttons that saved me in the end. The carriage was long, and while fleeing I managed to be by a door just as the train pulled in to Bond Street. I didn’t stop running until I was out into the cold night. I don’t think I was followed, but I stayed the night in Green Park rather than making my way to my station back to Guildford. I came into London this evening to give you this statement, but I have to say, I’m glad Waterloo is within walking distance of your Institute. I’m not sure I could have handled public transport.
STATEMENT ENDS
Archivist’s Notes: It’s bad enough that this job puts me in contact with the sort of people who think that half a dozen shots of tequila will attune them to the land of the dead, but having to read their rambling statements about their bizarre music taste really does beggar belief. Mr. Cooke’s statement differs from reality in so many places I didn’t even need any of the others to cross check the facts. Chiefly, the night Tube for the Jubilee line wasn’t running before October, three months after this statement was made. To be honest, I’m rather sorry I put this statement to one side back then, as I might have been more tempted to file it straight under “Discredited”. CCTV, of course, shows no sign of Mr. Cooke at all, and his Oyster card and debit card have no record of being used at the times he claims. I can only assume that alcohol, coupled with a sleep-deprived and music-fuelled imagination, has left Mr. Cooke confused as to how he got home that night. Except… I wonder if it’s my imagination, but at around 03:48 in the morning at Bond Street, the station immediately after Mr. Cooke claims he first saw the figure,there’s an artefact that appears for a few frames on the camera feed facing the Southbound Jubilee platform. I can’t shake the feeling that it looks like a train passing through the station, at very high speed.
END NOTES
