The Last Train to Yesterday: A Journey to Reverse Time

Rohan stood on the deserted platform, the fog curling around his feet like ghostly whispers. His watch read 11:57 PM, and the clock above the ticket booth ticked loudly in the silence. He glanced at the old, rusted sign that read Platform 9¾ - The Last Train to Yesterday. It had always been a myth, a story his grandfather used to tell him, but here it was, standing before him in all its eerie glory.

He had heard the stories: a train that only appeared once every ten years, at midnight, and if you boarded it, you could go back to one specific day in your life. Rohan knew exactly where he wanted to go—two years back, to the night of the accident that had changed everything.

A shrill whistle broke his thoughts, and headlights pierced through the fog. The train rolled in, ancient and majestic, with steam billowing from its sides. Its windows glowed warmly, flickering as if candlelit. Rohan felt his heart race. This was his chance.

The door creaked open, and an old conductor with a silver beard and a crooked smile stepped out. “Ticket?” he asked, his voice raspy but kind.

Rohan fumbled in his pocket, pulling out the strange, golden ticket he had found mysteriously placed in his mailbox just days ago. He handed it to the conductor, who inspected it with squinted eyes and a nod. “Welcome aboard, Mr. Rohan. Midnight approaches. You don’t want to miss your stop.”

Stepping into the carriage, Rohan was stunned. The interior was lavish, almost regal. Velvet seats, mahogany walls, and chandeliers swayed gently with the motion of the train. A handful of passengers sat quietly, their eyes distant, as if lost in time themselves.

He found a seat by the window and watched as the fog outside grew thicker, blurring the world into a gray mist. The train's whistle shrieked again, and with a lurch, it began to move. The conductor passed by, tipping his hat. “One stop, sir. Yesterday.”

Rohan’s heart pounded. Yesterday. He shut his eyes and focused on that night—the rain-slicked road, the headlights flashing, the scream that still echoed in his nightmares. His sister, Mira, had been in the car with him. He had been driving too fast, too careless, and the curve had come too quickly. He had never forgiven himself.

The train's pace quickened, and Rohan felt the air grow colder. Outside the window, he could see flickers of moments from his past—his first bicycle ride, his graduation, his parents waving goodbye as he left for college. Time blurred by like scenery, until finally, the train screeched to a halt.

The conductor reappeared. “Your stop, Mr. Rohan.”

Rohan swallowed hard and stepped off the train. He was standing on the street outside his childhood home. Rain drizzled lightly, just as he remembered. His hands shook as he walked down the familiar path, stopping in front of the house. There it was—his car, parked in the driveway, headlights on, engine running. And inside, he saw himself at the wheel, Mira beside him, laughing and pointing at something on her phone.

Rohan approached the car, his footsteps silent in the rain. He wanted to scream, to shout, to tell his younger self to stop, but the words choked in his throat. He was a ghost here—a mere observer of his own tragedy.

Suddenly, Mira looked up, her eyes locking with his through the rain-spattered window. Her face softened, and she smiled. Rohan’s breath caught. “Can you see me?” he whispered, his voice breaking.

She nodded, her smile widening. Then she mouthed two words: It’s okay.

Rohan collapsed to his knees, the rain mixing with his tears. The headlights of the car flickered, and just like that, the scene faded away. He was back on the platform, the fog curling around his feet once more. His watch read 12:01 AM.

The train was gone, the platform empty. Rohan stood in silence, his heart heavy but lighter than it had been in years. Somehow, he knew—Mira had always been with him, watching, forgiving.

As he walked away from the platform, the fog began to lift, revealing the morning sun peeking over the horizon. For the first time in two years, Rohan smiled, ready to step into tomorrow.