The Silent Passenger

The train was nearly empty, save for Eleanor and a single passenger sitting at the far end of the dimly lit carriage. She clutched her coat tightly around her, the chill of the late-night ride creeping into her bones. It was the last train of the night, cutting through the silent city like a ghost.

Eleanor’s eyes darted to the figure. A man in a dark coat and wide-brimmed hat, sitting motionless. He hadn’t moved since she boarded two stops ago. No phone. No book. Just stillness.

She looked away, convincing herself he was just another weary traveler. But as the train rattled on, she couldn’t shake the eerie feeling creeping up her spine. Something was off.

At the next station, the doors slid open with a hiss. No one boarded. No one left. The train continued forward.

Eleanor risked another glance. Her breath hitched.

The man was closer.

He hadn’t moved. Not that she had seen. But there he was, now sitting four rows closer than before.

Her fingers curled around the strap of her bag. Her pulse quickened. Had she imagined it? She turned her gaze to the window, watching the dark blur of the city rush past.

The train stopped again. No one moved. No sound, except for the low hum of the engine.

When Eleanor turned back, the man was even closer.

Two rows away.

Her heart pounded. "Excuse me?" she called out, her voice unsteady.

Silence.

She stood abruptly, moving toward the next carriage. The doors didn’t budge. Panic clawed at her throat as she pounded on the metal, willing them to open. She turned back.

He was right in front of her now.

His face was obscured by shadow, but she could feel his presence, heavy and cold. The train’s lights flickered. Eleanor’s breath came in shallow gasps.

Then, in the split second of darkness, a whisper.

"You shouldn’t have boarded."

The train screeched to a halt. The doors flew open.

Eleanor stumbled backward onto the platform, heart hammering. She scrambled to her feet, looking back into the train.

The man was gone.

The carriage was empty.

And as the train pulled away, she saw it—her own reflection staring back at her.

Except… it wasn’t hers.