The Last Train

The Last Train Home The cold wind bit at Daniel’s face as he rushed through the empty train station. His watch read 11:54 PM. The last train home left at midnight, and he couldn’t afford to miss it. His phone was dead, his wallet was nearly empty, and a long, dark walk through the city wasn’t an option. He reached the platform just as the train pulled in, exhaling in relief. The doors slid open, and he stepped inside. Strangely, the train was empty. Not a single passenger. Daniel hesitated, but the doors were closing. He took a seat by the window and stared out at the dimly lit platform as the train lurched forward. Minutes passed. The usual stops went by, but the train didn’t slow down. The lights inside flickered. His stomach tightened. He pressed the STOP button above his seat, but nothing happened. “Excuse me?” he called out, hoping for a conductor or another passenger. Silence. A strange whisper floated through the carriage. His breath caught. “Daniel…” He turned sharply. No one was there. His heart pounded. He had never told the conductor his name. The train plunged into a tunnel, and the windows turned black. His reflection stared back at him. But something was wrong—his reflection wasn’t mimicking his movements. It was smiling. Daniel stumbled back as the reflection raised a hand and knocked from inside the glass. The train jolted violently. The overhead lights burst, plunging everything into darkness. A chilling voice whispered in his ear. “You shouldn’t have gotten on.” The train screeched to a halt. The doors slid open. Daniel didn’t hesitate—he bolted out onto the platform. But as he turned to look, the train was gone. No tracks. No tunnel. Just an empty station in the middle of nowhere. And then, from the darkness, the whisper came again. “Welcome home, Daniel.