The Dead Are Ghosts

Every time Marvin rode the subway, he thought of Sarah. It got to the point he wondered if she was haunting him. For more than a decade they'd ridden the train together every morning, her to the high school where she taught, him to the warehouse that he managed. When he closed his eyes, he felt Sarah sitting next to him. Sometimes she'd even lay her head on his shoulder like she used to. He didn't want to look for fear of what he would see.

The dead ARE ghosts, but not in the world around us. They live inside.

How To Know If Your Boyfriend's A Narcissist (And Other Dating Advice For Women In 2025)

Linda hated the way Roger drew so much attention. If he wasn't bantering with a server or making bad jokes to a cashier, he was serenading her on the subway at the top of his lungs.

Linda had always been an introvert. While in the early days dating Roger brought a perverse thrill to someone who'd spent most of her life unnoticed, she now realized her preference for remaining incognito.

But breaking up with Roger was proving more difficult than she'd imagined. She'd assumed that if she completely stopped talking he'd eventually get the hint.

That was six months ago.

That Summer Feeling

Stephanie walks from her apartment to the subway every morning on her way to work. During the summer, the sidewalks are crowded with fellow commuters and hawkers and a general hustle and bustle smelling of sweat and petrol.

There's a viral eagerness that has infected the city on these days, and she's one of the few people who's immune. She's turned off by the aggressive friendliness that so easily tips towards hostility. There's too much skin and fake pleasantry.

It makes her wonder why so much of her life's been given over to strangers and people she doesn't care for.

Sightseeing In The Subway

There are names scratched onto the walls of New York City subway cars. Monday it was Mark. Tuesday, Dylan. Wednesday, Fatima. Thursday, Kat, and Friday, Lucy. The poorly carved letters, engraved with care, resemble the jagged handwriting of a preschooler; It's something inexplicably human. Though the scratches will fade, and the steel of the cars will corrode, I like to think otherwise; the remnants of these people will linger long after time forgets who they are. Every name I spot, a wave of tranquility washes over me as I stand in a mess of busy people in a busy city.

From Guest Contributor Eshal Yazdani

New York Strong

I climb the subway steps into the abundant sunshine. The weather is warm and it’s just another September day. Or so I think…

Paper is floating in the air; the sky darkens and desks tremble. Nearby buildings disappear in clouds of smoke. I watch wide eyed from the fourteenth-floor window across from the World Trade Center. Screams are unbearable and angels fall with a thunderous thump to the ground. My heart pounds and I can’t breathe. I don’t comprehend the horror; the fire, blackness, death.

The towers collapse, but eighteen years later we're strong for the victims and their families.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Return To The Primitive

A hunk of meat sizzled on the broken fireguard atop a rusty oil drum which served as a brazier-cum-barbeque.

Badger’s friends gathered round for warmth. He didn’t know why they called him that and, being relatively new to a sub-society which had welcomed him with open arms, he hadn’t pushed the issue.

The subway tunnel reeked of smoke, sweat, and human waste, but it was home to the evictees.

Tonight they shared their good fortune with any who followed the aroma, irrespective of rivalries.

Badger’s landlord had barged in, demanding the spare keys.

Long pig had never been so descriptive.

From Guest Contributor Perry McDaid

Data Dada

I walked for eight months, following a man who was carrying books on a donkey. I thought of it as my way of creating memories and putting them in my diary, except I don’t have a diary. So, yes, it’s ironic. Now as I go around the city, I see cigarette butts and chewing gum on the pavement, and people clipping their fingernails in the subway. I mean, who would do that, leave their DNA all over the place for others to collect and store? It’s like the secret to keeping a secret is the only secret still being kept.

From Guest Contributor Howie Good

Howie is the author most recently of What It Is and How to Use It from Grey Book Press. He co-edits the journals Unbroken and UnLost.

A Normal Day

Bree walked up the subway steps into the abundant sunshine. It was a beautiful fall day, and the streets were filled with pedestrians hurrying to work. Cars honked and buses came to a halt at their designated stops. It was a normal day in the city of Manhattan.

Bree stopped for a bagel and tea at the cart in front of her building. The owner greeted her good morning and handed her the lightly buttered bagel and tea, sweetened with Equal and skim milk. After paying, she turned.

The rumble under her feet would be a moment she’d never forget.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

The Perils Of The New York City Subway

As a child, Jaime loved the subway. No car seats. Strange people. Traveling underground in a long tunnel. She couldn't wait to be old enough to ride into the city on her own.

She remembered how fucking innocent she used to be. Now she hates the subway. Especially the strange people.

Today for instance. The only available seat's in the corner. Right next to the cocoon. It's been growing for weeks. It used to be a rider, but now he's pupating on the D Train.

Jaime sits. It's not the grossest thing she's witnessed on the New York City subway.

The Machiavellian Necessities Of A Woman On The New York City Subway

For the majority of Deb's daily commutes, she preoccupied herself with the most strategic seat location choice. She normally picked the open space closest to the door. She didn't like standing, when it felt like every male gaze pointed her way, or looking for less populated corners, where some old dude would inevitably decide it was cool to plop their sweaty ass right next to her or, sometimes worse, directly across from her.

Being near the exit provided the comfort of knowing she could quickly escape at any stop, should it ever become necessary.

This necessity was a weekly occurrence.