“Would you like some tea?”

I whipped my head around to see my grandfather smiling gently at me. He had a long beard, and his hair was as white as snow. He was calmly sipping a cup of green tea, his eyes not leaving mine.

I looked around me. We seemed to be the only people on the train. It was also impossible to tell where we were going or even which direction we were travelling in. The sign that usually said which station was next was silent, and full of pixels.

The train rocked from side to side, as if trying to soothe a newborn baby. The old man refilled his cup from an old china teapot.

“Yes please,” I said finally.

Grandpa gave me a grateful smile and handed me his cup. It smelled rancid, almost of urine. I almost didn’t want to drink it. But the old man’s eyes were like cold steel.

So I reluctantly took a sip.

I spat it out almost immediately. It was as disgusting as it smelled.

Grandpa smiled at me again, but his smile was too wide for his face, stretching across his leathery face. Then it cracked like porcelain and he crumbled to the ground, slipping out of his seat.

The tea set shattered.

Without Grandpa to keep me company, I was suddenly aware of how quiet it was. Flies buzzed around dead bodies slumped to the ground. Each had a gaping wound splitting open their chest, hearts missing and entrails spilling out. Wide grins plastered their faces, and I realised with dread I recognised every one of them. Friends, family, people I know…smiling at me with maggots squirming out of empty eye sockets.

Grandpa’s head rolled to the side, separated from his body. His smile burned into my mind.

My hands also felt…sticky. I looked down to see them crimson, entrails wriggling beneath the fingers like worms. Bile rose up from my stomach. What have I done?

Then a sweet, gentle voice interrupted my thoughts.

“Would you like some tea?”