Is this a good story? Englsih GCSE

I grabbed a newspaper from a nearby trash can - 1953. What could she possibly want to do here? Brilliant light panned through the large, glass windows, warming the marble floor beneath my leather boots. The smell of tea lingered in the air, as stalls sold their assortments of delicious baked goods: scones, cream pastries, mini cakes; so many that it made my mouth water. I looked over at the polished railway, which was accompanied by a majestic beast. Its large green engine graciously stroked the golden light, leaving hues of green fanning across its magnificent steel body. Loudly, it chugged smoke out of its mouth; like a dragon, clouds forming, bigger and bigger.

On my left , I saw the train booths. They were packed with men and women, all rushing to get the last tickets to the departing train. They wore long, dark coats, accessorised with top hats or woolen scarves. Eerily, they reminded me of the people I had seen in my history textbooks. It suddenly occurred to me that all these people would be dead, or rather, are dead.

Keeping a low profile, I mingle among the crowds.My body chilled, sending shivering spikes down my back. My eyes wandered upon every person I passed. Each had a distinct feature: a man with a long nose, a woman with ginger hair, a child with a scratch on his forehead. However, they were too tall, too short, too thin, too wide. I shook my head, thoughts buzzing all at once.

My heart almost stopped when the conductor blew his final whistle for the train's departure. A flurry of suitcases, wailing children and flailing cloaks passed me, all heading to different compartments. Panic flickered in my eyes. How would I find her now?

Drawing my cloak firmly around my body and keeping my arms concealed, I picked up the pace. Worry, anxiety and adrenaline pumped in my veins, as the harsh, icy wind stabbed daggers on my flushed cheeks. My feet seemed to drag me to the train, almost slipping on the over-polished floor. My eyes scan the crowds. Faces. Faces. So many faces but not the one that I seeked. A woman pushes past me, and I trip, my leather boots screeching.
This is hopeless. I will never find her. Just as I begin to lose hope, something catches my eye. A girl with a compass marking on her arm brushes past me, seeming to be in a hurry. Her golden hair bounced behind her and her red trainers were almost unmistakeable.

It was Julia.

I found her.

Quickly, I get up and push past the crowds. My eyes are on her distinct red shoes, which glide over the marble floor, blood-red against white. The train starts to take its leave, as the horn blows brutally against the commotion of the station. My feet are fast but my eyes are faster. Julia swiftly jumps onto the train, and that's when I realise - she's seen me.

The train starts to move quicker, fiercely moving across the tracks. I run as fast as I have ever in my life, my heart beating in my ear. Faster, faster and faster the train slips out of my reach. I will not lose hope, I tell myself. Not after I have come so far. I reach out to the train, seconds before it leaves the station building. My hand grasps a brass bar , swinging my body violently into the carriage hallway.

No one bothers to look my way, as if this were something common. I celebrate momentarily; I need to find her before the time runs out.

I check my arm. It glows brightly with the numbers ‘4:00’. 4 more minutes. 4 minutes that could determine the fate of the world.

I take a deep breath and scan the carriage. No she's not in this one. Like a fox, I slip between different carriages, eyes sharp like daggers. Not only do I have to find Julia, I have to stay away from the ticket examiner, whose nostrils have flared so much I can see the hairs from a meter away.

Where was she? My brain is starting to ache and the thought of only 2 minutes stirs the monster of panic inside of me once again. Recklessly, I find the last compartment of the forth carriage and swing it open, not thinking through what I may be doing.

Then I saw her.

She sat. Curtain drawn. Scowl on face. Hands crossed. Anger boiled inside of me - she thought this was all a game.

‘So you finally found me,’ she sneers, mouth carved like a snake.
‘You are coming with me now.’ I demand, grabbing her wrist and carefully prizing the microchip injector from my waist.

She snatches her wrist from me abruptly, ‘How dare you!’ she shouts, obviously shocked from my quick action.

‘You can’t stay here or else you’ll destroy everything!’ I shriek as my arm starts to glow and buzz…

‘1’
‘1’
‘1’

‘I don’t care! There's nothing left for me and I always vowed to make sure that you and your stupid company would never be made!’ ‘You and I both know that the chips are broken! Stop acting like everythings okay,’

I silently stare into her venomous eyes, her words - glass shards, heavy and intense.

This couldn't go on any longer. I push her onto the floor, grabbing her arm and pointing the injection at her arm like a knife ready to strike. The compartment rocked and the curtains swayed, as if dancing to the screams of the blonde girl. My face is stone hard, any sympathy deteriorating quickly. As the needle moves to her skin, I gasp.

Julia shoves me into the seat, her talon-like nails digging deep into my shoulders, predator picking at its prey. Fire-like breath curses my face, as she smirks.

‘You were always so weak.’

The microchip digs deep into my skin.