The Last Passenger

It was the middle of winter when Victor boarded the last train of the night. The station was almost empty, save for a few scattered souls who seemed to fade in and out of the shadows as if they were just as lost as he felt. He had missed his last bus, and this train—the one that was supposed to take him home—was his only option.

The platform was dimly lit, and the train itself was an old, rusty relic. Its windows were streaked with grime, and the doors creaked when they opened. Victor hesitated for a moment before stepping inside, the chill of the night air clinging to his coat. He was tired—tired of the late hours, tired of the endless commute, tired of everything.

As he walked down the narrow aisle, the train seemed to stretch impossibly long, the dim lights flickering as if trying to fight against the oppressive darkness outside. He passed a few passengers, all sitting in silence, their faces hidden in shadow. None of them moved, and none of them looked up.

Victor took a seat by the window and sighed, watching the landscape blur by. The train jolted to life, and the wheels screeched against the tracks, pulling them away from the station. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the rhythmic movement lull him into a state of half-sleep.

But then something changed. He wasn’t sure when exactly, but he could feel it—the subtle shift in the atmosphere. The air grew colder, and the silence inside the train deepened. It wasn’t just the usual quiet of late-night commuters; it was something heavier, something that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

He opened his eyes. The other passengers were still there, but now, they were different. They were staring at him.

Their eyes were wide and unblinking, their faces pale and gaunt. Their clothes were old, worn out—some of them were even covered in dust, as if they hadn’t moved in years. Victor’s heart raced as he glanced around the carriage, but no one else seemed to notice the strange stares. The other passengers remained completely still, their attention fixed on him, as if waiting for something.

He tried to brush it off, convincing himself it was just his imagination. But the longer he sat there, the more the unease gnawed at him. The train seemed to be moving faster now, faster than it should have been, and yet, the night outside remained dark and still. He couldn’t see the passing lights of the city or the outlines of trees in the distance. It was as if the world had stopped moving, and they were floating through an endless void.

Victor looked back at the passengers. They hadn’t moved, but one figure stood out to him—a man sitting directly across the aisle. His face was obscured by a thick hood, but there was something about him that seemed… familiar. The man’s hands rested on his lap, fingers intertwined, and he didn’t even acknowledge Victor’s gaze.

Then, the train gave another jolt. The lights flickered once more, plunging the carriage into darkness. For a split second, Victor thought he saw something—no, someone—standing in the aisle, blocking the light. A figure, cloaked in shadow, just at the edge of his vision.

His heart began to pound in his chest. The train screeched again, louder this time, as if it was about to break apart. He stood up abruptly, his legs shaky, and made his way to the door. He needed to get out, needed to escape. But when he grabbed the door handle, it wouldn’t budge. It was locked, cold to the touch. Panic began to rise in his throat as he rushed down the aisle, trying to find another way out.

As he passed the passengers, they didn’t move, didn’t even blink. Their eyes were locked on him, watching, waiting. And then he heard it.

A whisper.

It was so faint at first, like a breeze brushing through the cracks of the train. But then it grew louder. "You’re not supposed to be here."

Victor froze, the blood draining from his face. He spun around, looking for the source of the voice, but no one spoke. The man in the hood was gone.

In his place stood a figure—a woman, dressed in an old-fashioned white gown, her long black hair hanging loosely around her face. Her eyes were empty, hollow sockets that seemed to stare right through him. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

Victor’s chest tightened as the cold air wrapped around him. He tried to speak, but his voice faltered. He backed away, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

Then, a low rumble filled the train, and the world outside the window darkened further. The once-familiar landscape had disappeared, replaced by an endless stretch of fog, blanketing everything in a thick, suffocating mist. The train was no longer moving on tracks—it was floating, gliding through nothingness.

In a moment of panic, Victor rushed toward the back of the train, his hand desperate against the window. He had to get out. He had to find a way to escape. He turned back to look at the passengers, and for the first time, he noticed something chilling.

Their faces were changing.

It wasn’t gradual. It was sudden, violent—one moment they were human, the next their faces were twisted in grotesque contortions, their features melting into something far more monstrous. Their eyes began to bulge, their skin rippling and stretching, like faces that had been stitched together in haste.

And then, from the front of the train, he heard the voice again. This time, it was unmistakable, clear, and it filled the entire carriage.

“You’re the last passenger.”

Victor’s heart pounded in his ears as he turned, but it was too late. The train had come to a stop. The doors finally opened—but not to the station.

Beyond the doors lay an abyss, a vast chasm of blackness that stretched into eternity. The train had stopped at the edge of an endless void, and the passengers—if they could still be called that—began to rise from their seats, moving toward him with unnatural speed.

Victor backed away, trembling, his body frozen in terror. He could hear the whispers now, louder than ever, but they were no longer words. They were screams. Screams of those who had been trapped on this train, just like him.

“You’re the last passenger,” the voice whispered again, this time from inside his own mind. “And now, the train is your home.”

Thank you for reading The Last Passenger. If the story gave you chills, be sure to hit the like button and share it with others who dare to step onto the mysterious train.