He found the journal on the train. It had a worn, brown leather cover and inside, it contained symbols that the old man could not comprehend. The tattered pages were marked with the year 1890. He was about to put the book down where it was until he saw a list of names in one of the pages. It listed the people’s birth date and what looked like a death date. But, the old man didn’t think anything of it and stuffed it in his overcoat and continued to stare out the window, the snow gently falling.

He was awoken by a sudden scream and sat up with a start. He checked his pocket watch and realized it was late afternoon. His limp made him slower that the other passengers, who were racing to see what has happened. He pushed people back to get a better view of the scene. To his horror, it was something that human eyes should not see. The young girl’s eyes were gouged out and her jaw was ripped off to show bloody teeth and a shriveled tongue. Her clothes looked like they cost a fortune, it was a shame that they were painted in red.
People muttered about the girl saying, “What did she do to deserve this?”
“I heard someone say that she sold her body for money.”
“Well I heard she was a mistress to a rich married man in the west.”
“Maybe she’s some sort of prostitute?”
“She probably deserved what she got.”
He didn’t want to hear about the atrocities the girl probably committed, he only cared for the dining car that was going to smell like copper. The old man humbly volunteered to help dispose of the body and brought an old tarp from the caboose, and wrapped the tarp around the body. People were already trying to desperately clean off the blood stains that soaked the carpet. The train was pulled into an immediate stop and the three men dragged the body outside. The pungent smell was enough to make a grown man gag.
The conductor arrived at the car and went to talk to the old man. “What do ya think happened o’here?” His accent was thick, probably from the states. The old man grunted, he wanted to evade conversations with people, especially on trains.
“There seems to be some sort of murderer on this train that is either after the girl or the passengers on this train.” The conductor looked panicked and his eyes rapidly glanced around the car warily. He leaned in and whispered to his ear, his breath smelling like cigarettes
“Don’t use werds lak murderer Mistah. Tha werd is a strong werd tha can cause a panic.
Let meh know if thars anythang tha involves… well ya know. It was nice to meet ya Mistah-”
“John Brown.”
“Mistah John Brown.” The conductor tipped his cap and walked off. A few minutes later the train started moving.
The stain was almost gone, but the reeking scent of copper still hung in the air. John Brown walked towards the passenger car and sat down. He pulled the journal from his pocket and peered into the pages. He looked back at the page containing the list of names. The first name had the death date to today’s date:
Marjorie Taylor May 16, 1934 – December 17, 1953
He scanned through the names, searching for something familiar until he found his own name.
John Brown July 10, 1892 – December 18, 1953
John Brown still didn’t think much of it. He then lied down, exhausted of the events that occurred, eyes drifting into sleep at he watched the gloomy sky darken into night.

He was in the train, rummaging through his luggage and brought out a large axe; a symbol of a childhood that would be forever lost. The old man shuffled through the entryway, trying to get to the other passenger car. A veiny hand took hold of the sliding door and opened it, revealing a young man in his early twenties sleeping soundly in the small cot. The old man raised the axe over his head and hacked at the man’s neck. Gore splattered the walls and the floor, stained the old man’s hands, covering them like thick, warm gloves. He took the young man’s luggage and ID and replaced it with his own. He then wiped his hands with a bloodied handkerchief and returned to his room in the other passenger car. He stared at the ID with a sinister smile on his face and read the name, “John Brown.”