The Last Passenger

Elena had taken the late train from work a hundred times before. It was always the same—cold, empty, and quiet, with only the soft hum of the tracks to keep her company. Tonight, though, something was different.

As she stepped onto the empty platform, she noticed a train sitting there, its lights dim, almost as if it were waiting just for her. She glanced up at the clock—2:32 AM. The last train shouldn’t have arrived until 2:45.

Cautiously, she stepped aboard. The train was old, the seats worn, and the walls covered in a thin layer of grime. She slid into an empty seat, and as soon as she did, the doors closed with a loud clang. She looked around. No conductor, no other passengers. Just her.

The train lurched forward, and she took out her phone, but the screen showed no signal. She tried to shake the unease creeping over her, telling herself it was just another late-night ride home.

After a few stops, Elena heard footsteps. She looked up to see a man stepping onto the train, his face shadowed beneath a dark hat. He sat a few rows behind her, his gaze fixed on her, unblinking. She looked away, feeling his stare prickling the back of her neck.

Stop after stop, more passengers boarded. They all seemed… strange. Their clothes looked old, outdated, as if they were dressed from different eras—1950s suits, Victorian dresses, even tattered rags. Each new face was eerily pale, with eyes that gleamed in the dim light, yet none of them seemed alive. They moved slowly, mechanically, and every single one of them stared at her with hollow eyes.

Elena’s heart began to race. She wanted to get off, but the train never stopped long enough for her to make it to the door. Finally, as they approached her stop, she stood and rushed toward the exit, her mind filled with a desperate need to leave.

But the doors didn’t open.

The train kept moving, speeding past her station, past the next, until she had no idea where she was or how far she’d gone. She turned to the other passengers, desperate for answers. "Excuse me, where is this train going?"

The passengers stared at her, their faces blank. Then, in unison, they whispered, “Home.”

She backed away, terrified, as the lights flickered and went out. The train filled with an icy chill, and she heard whispers around her, faint murmurs, like the cries of lost souls. Shadows slithered down the aisle, and she could feel a cold hand graze her arm.

Elena closed her eyes, praying she would wake up, that this was just a dream. But when she opened them, she was still there, trapped, the whispers louder now, like a storm raging in her mind.

Then she saw him. A man in a conductor’s uniform appeared at the end of the car, his face skeletal, his eyes empty. He slowly approached, his voice like nails on a chalkboard as he whispered, “All aboard the Midnight Express. Final stop—forever.”

The passengers began to rise, their arms outstretched, reaching for her. She screamed, pounding on the windows, clawing at the doors, but there was no escape.

And as the train plunged into a dark tunnel, Elena realized that she was the last passenger—the final soul taken by the Midnight Express.

Thank you for reading The Last Passenger. If this story left you with goosebumps, please like and share with others who love a chilling tale. Just remember, the next time you board an empty train in the middle of the night… you might not be alone.