The Wrong Side: Spice Market

Far beyond where the Spice Market train makes it’s final stop, there is a place unlike any I have ever seen before. I call myself an urban explorer, but I never counted on finding something like this in this day and age. One sleepless February night, I rode the night train all the way to the end of the line and saw something that changed my life.


The tracks ended but the train kept going when I reached the very last stop. There was no sign of the conductor and no one else on the train and I was shocked to realize we were simply floating in midair, above the snow. I pried the doors open and dropped down into the snowbank to continue my exploration of the outskirts of Spice Market. Everything was going fine until I turned the corner and found myself in a neighborhood that wasn’t exactly right.


In this place, the people were blurry and disjointed. They wandered aimlessly, with no real destination. Their unseeing eyes seemed to hold the secrets of the universe. I crouched behind an ad and waited for one of them to pass me by. When he did, I wished I was anywhere but this cursed place.


I was reminded of the campfire tales from my childhood about a place called Neighborhood 1, where all the people moved strangely and had serene, expressionless faces and unseeing eyes. Could it be these people had relocated from there? Was Neighborhood 1 even a real place? It must be, since I had never seen people like this before. As the man drew nearer, I steeled my nerves and stood in front of him. “Do you have the time?” I asked, my voice no louder than a shaky whisper. The creature in front of me said nothing, simply stopped and stared at me.


Getting no reaction, I stepped aside and he continued on his journey as if I had never been there at all. When I turned around, I immediately regretted my decision to press on, as a disjointed woman with blade-like hands was coming right toward me.
I had seen enough. I wanted to go back to my fiancee’s place and convince myself this was all a dream, but I knew it wasn’t. The trains were no longer running — by now it was close to 4:30AM — but I happened to see a taxi drive down the street and took the risk of flagging it down. To my relief, the driver was an ordinary person. As we headed back to the main part of the Spice Market, I asked him what he thought about driving through such strange places with such strange people. He gave me a funny look and told me I had been the only one on the street.

I was too shocked to tell him what I had seen or show him the photos, so I stayed quiet. The ride was uneventful but I’ve never been so happy to get back home.

If you find yourself on the last train to the Spice Market and you’re somehow floating in midair, do yourself a favor. Don’t get out.

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