The Last Train Home



The station was eerily quiet, save for the occasional hum of flickering streetlights. Daniel checked his watch—**11:57 PM**. The last train home was due in three minutes.

A cold wind whispered through the empty platform. He pulled his coat tighter, but the chill wasn’t just from the weather. Something about the silence unsettled him, like the world was holding its breath.

Then, a distant whistle cut through the night. The train emerged from the fog, its headlights piercing the darkness. As it slowed to a stop, the doors slid open with a soft hiss.

Daniel hesitated. The car was empty. No passengers. No conductor. Just dimly lit seats stretching into the shadows.

He considered waiting for another ride—except there was none. Either he got on, or he spent the night shivering at the deserted station.

Stepping inside, he felt a strange weight settle in his chest. The doors sealed shut behind him with an eerie finality. The train lurched forward.

At first, everything seemed normal. The city lights blurred past the windows. The rhythmic clatter of the tracks filled the air.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Daniel noticed something strange—his reflection in the window.

It wasn’t moving.

His pulse pounded. Slowly, he raised his hand. His reflection did not.

A chill ran down his spine. Then—**it grinned.**

His breath hitched. He stumbled back, his heart hammering against his ribs. The reflection stayed put, its hollow eyes locked onto him. Then, in one slow, deliberate movement, it stepped forward.

Out of the glass.

The train lights flickered. The air thickened. The world spun.

And then—**darkness.**

### **The Next Morning…**

The station master found the train parked at its final stop. **Empty.**

Except for one thing—a single, crumpled coat left on the last seat.

As if someone had vanished into thin air.

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**#HorrorStor