Writer's Block

The train pulled into the station, and the usual rush for the doors began. A hundred people trying to squash into a carriage made for fifty, not helped by the usual lazy sods who preferred to take their bike two stops rather than ride it two miles.
Aldernak pushed desperately between the platform zombies, made a dash for it, and succeeded in squeezing onto the train at the cost of only a grazed hand. There wasn't much room to move afterwards, squashed awkwardly against the doors with his butt pressed against something he preferred not to think about. But at least this time he wasn't nose-to-underarm with someone, and it beat the hell out of the time he'd spent the whole journey trying not to stumble face-first into giant man-boobs.
Suddenly the lights went out and the train stopped. The carriage filled with an annoyed nervous silence - people fidgeted, a child cried.
In the unexpected darkness Aldernak found himself staring through the window into a pair of sulphurous eyes. As others appeared around the carriage, there was a collective gasp from the passengers.
Then there was a sudden wrenching of metal, and somebody screamed.
They weren't the last...