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Murder at the Station | The Dreamweaver


I was upstairs in the first class compartment of a high speed train that was pulling into the airport station.


The train stopped and I collected my travel bag from the overhead bin, removed my powder blue v-neck sweater and put on the blazer that was on the seat next to me.


I walked down the stairs and as I was about to step off the train, a young man stopped me and pointed to the floor where I had dropped my sweater.


I thanked the young man, picked my sweater up off the floor and stepped onto the platform and began walking to the airport terminal.


Just then, I noticed a crowd had gathered further down the platform and, curious, I went to see what all the commotion was about.


As I approached the crowd, I noticed a one-car antique train on the tracks to the left of me that had derailed, tipped over on its side and was now laid diagonally across the tracks.


On closer inspection, there was a shiny red sports car that had apparently crashed into the train car and come to rest inside of it.


Then, to my complete surprise, I saw the unimaginable, the body of a dead naked man strewn face down over the top of the driver’s seat, his head resting on the steering wheel and his legs stretched out resting on the back ledge of the car.


Overhearing two onlookers comment about “the woman,” I looked inside the car once again only to see the lifeless body of a dark-skinned woman with long, wavy black hair lying face up behind the man in the passenger seat wearing only lacy red panties and a matching bra.


I couldn’t possibly imagine how the car could have come down into the station in the first place before crashing into the train and assumed it must driven down the stairs, onto the platform and then crashed into the back of the train.


As I walked away, I turned and took one last look at the tragic scene and overheard two other lookers-on saying how the couple were well-known actors on a popular daytime soap opera.


Then I woke up.

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