The Eternal Passenger

The Eternal Passenger

A Train Ride Through Time

The night train to Blackwood was nearly empty, save for a few weary travelers huddled in their seats. Nathan, a journalist chasing forgotten stories, boarded just before midnight, settling into a quiet corner. He had heard whispers of strange occurrences on this train—passengers who vanished, voices echoing through empty compartments, and a figure who always appeared at the same hour.

As the train pulled away, Nathan opened his notebook, jotting down details. The carriage swayed gently, the rhythmic hum of wheels on steel lulling the world into a dreamlike haze. He glanced around. The only other person in his compartment was an old man dressed in an outdated three-piece suit, his face hidden beneath the brim of a hat.

Nathan cleared his throat. “Traveling far?”

The man lifted his head slightly, revealing piercing blue eyes. “Further than most,” he replied. His voice was calm, yet carried an eerie weight.

Something about him unsettled Nathan. The journalist turned his gaze to the window, but instead of the countryside rushing past, the landscape was… wrong. The moonlit fields had disappeared, replaced by an unfamiliar city with gas lamps flickering along cobbled streets. The people outside wore clothing from another era—top hats, bonnets, long coats.

Nathan’s pulse quickened. He turned to the old man. “What’s happening?”

“You’re seeing the past,” the man said. “This train moves not just through distance, but through time.”

Nathan let out a nervous chuckle. “That’s impossible.”

The man sighed. “Most would think so. But you’re here now, aren’t you?” He gestured to the window. “Every night, this train follows the echoes of history. It carries those who are lost between times.”

Nathan’s mind raced. Could this be true? He reached for his phone—no signal. His watch? Frozen at 12:07 AM. The train rumbled on, the scenery shifting once more. Now, outside, he saw a battlefield drenched in fog. Soldiers in ragged uniforms marched forward, muskets in hand. A cannon fired, its roar vibrating through the train.

Nathan gasped. “How do I get off?”

The man studied him. “Are you certain you were meant to leave?”

“What do you mean?”

The old man leaned in, his eyes reflecting centuries of sorrow. “Everyone on this train has unfinished business. A choice to make. Those who understand their purpose may leave. Others… remain passengers forever.”

Nathan’s breath hitched. He thought of his life—the story he had abandoned, the truth he had never written. His father, whom he had promised to reconcile with but never did. Was this why he was here?

The train shuddered. The lights flickered. Suddenly, he saw his childhood home outside the window. His father, sitting alone on the porch, staring into the night.

The old man smiled faintly. “Your stop is here.”

Nathan leapt to his feet. “But—who are you?”

The man tipped his hat. “An eternal passenger.”

Nathan stepped toward the door. The train screeched to a halt, and as he took a breath and stepped off, everything went black.

He woke in his apartment, his phone ringing. His father’s name flashed on the screen.

Nathan answered, tears in his eyes. “Dad… I’m coming home.”