The Last Train's Shadow

A few years after the start of Dhaka Metro, strange urban legends began to circulate around the city. "You will not board the last train unless you are ready to leave at the station.

There is no Station 13 on the official U-Bahn card. It will not be displayed in the travel guide. It is not also displayed on the station schedule. Nevertheless, there were reports of passengers late at night. It was reported that late-night passengers claimed that the last train would occasionally halt on a strange, unmarked platform far from a familiar station.

The first person laughed at it as a city myth. However, the story began to grow over the years. But those who spoke about it spoke in steaming colours like a forbidden secret - only those who thought they were worthy.

It was in the evening that software engineer Dipto was home alone on his last train, at the end of the week of work. His eyes were tired, and his mind was foggy from the stress of the long week. As usual, he climbed the last train. It's the familiar routine of empty carriages that offers strange comfort. The train was always at this time, so it was almost empty.

He sat in the window, inserted his headphones, and the music drowned out the sound of his thoughts. The rhythmic sounds of trains on the tracks began to squeeze him into the slightest sleep. At exactly 11:55pm, the train suddenly closed. Dipto opened his eyes and looked around in confusion. He was scheduled to leave at Gulshan station, but the train seemed to have stopped unexpectedly.

He looked out the window. The platform was unknown. The lights were weak, and there was an astonishing mist surrounding the station. A weak cold ran down his spine.

"Maybe you'll make maintenance?" he thought, shook his head, rejecting the idea as something other than excessive imagination.

He rose to his feet and went to the door. The train appears to be the train station he recognized. I don't read anything on the outside type shield. Only number 13 appears weak on the faded label, crumpled with white due to old signs.

There was an unpleasant feeling about him, but he flashed on his shoulder. He opened the door and stepped onto the platform.

Quickly met a thick mist at him, making it difficult to see more than a few meters in front of him. Similar to a forgotten place, the air was cold and damp. The noise of the train faded behind him, leaving him with an oppressive silence. The platform was completely empty. There are no commuters or station attendants. Only the weak total of far machines.

"Is that kind of a joke?" Dipto muttered.

The platform was bare, except for a few stray posters on the wall. The station appeared to have been abandoned without the light and unmistakable smell of negligence, without any signs of life.

Dipto looked around to show where he was. There are no signs or useful markings. Only this old, crumbling sign is number 13. At that moment, Dipto realized something strange. Numbers were created from the other end of the platform.

An old man in faded u-bahn uniform approached him. His attitude was bent, and he was carrying a worn bag over his shoulder - an old bag from the ticket test. But it was his eyes that made Dipto look strange - blank like a hollow socket that was shining weakly in unnatural light.

The man mixed with him, his feet dragging himself to the ground, which seemed intentional. When he finally arrived at Dipto, he stopped and stared at him without understanding.

"I asked for a ticket.

Dipto hesitated. "I don't have a ticket for this station..." he said confused.

The man's eyes seemed bright and shining. "I'll see the ticket."

Dipto Grub in Pocket in Pocket, I pulled out my U-Bahn card and showed her to the man. But the man didn't even see it. Instead, his views on Dipto's face have been revised.

"You got off the train, now you have to stay," the man said, as if it was the most natural in the world.

Dipto felt that his heart began to breed. The air around him became heavier and more choked. He instinctively grabbed the phone and called for help, but when he pulled it, there was no signal. There is nothing. The screen flickers and turns black.

"Okay, that has to be a joke," Dipto thought. But the discomfort in his stomach told him something else. The man's hollow appearance, his robot ton - everything felt wrong.

Suddenly, a whispering choir echoed across the platform. Other numbers came out of the fog and slowly entered the weak light. They were commuters or before. Her face should be twisted, hollowed out like an old man, with a black cavity with eyes from her face. Her clothes were destroyed and old as if they had been waiting here for years.

They all began to speak at once, and their voices began to sync:

"We were on the last train too."

Dipto's mind competed in fear. He began to run away, but when he looked behind him, he saw the outcome had disappeared. It was long and only underneath the stairs that was bothering me. There were no doors or windows on the platform - just this endless staircase, it turned black.

The whispers grew, and figures approached him. He turned around and ran desperately to escape. But no matter how fast he ran, the stairs seemed to stretch infinitely in front of him. The figure's laughter echoed through his ears, making it even louder at every step.

The next morning, the U-Bahn authorities checked the CCTV film material from the last train. They were standing on the door, looking at Dipto on the platform. When he came out, it was clearly visible in the film material. But there was nothing after that. There are no signs of him on the train, and there are no traces of him anywhere.

Everything you could find was shadow movie material. His face is hidden, a dark, obscure figure by the window. It wasn't Dipto's face.

It was the face of a man who was lost a long time ago.