The twins

Phantom Metro -series introduction-

Every night, as the city sleeps, a silent train keeps moving beneath the streets of Rome.

On the shift of a lone night watchman, strange presences begin to emerge from the shadows.

No one sees that train. No one knows its schedule.

But when the doors slide open… every passenger carries a story from which there’s no return.

Welcome to Phantom Metro.

A series of self-contained tales, bound by one haunting question:

Who will be the next passenger?

I got home around 8 a.m., still haunted by the strange man I had met the night before. I hadn’t told anyone about him. Maybe it was the morning sun, or maybe it was the sleep creeping over me, but I started to convince myself it had all been a dream.

The afternoon slipped away too quickly. I managed just a few hours of sleep before I had to get ready again. As usual, I greeted the colleague from the previous shift and prepared to start another night as the station’s solitary guardian.

That night started off more chaotic than usual commuters lingered longer before the platforms finally emptied. Alone again. Just me and my thoughts. My nightmares.

After the first round, I went back to the booth to check the three monitors. Around half past midnight, overcome by drowsiness, I decided to get up and walk down to the platform. A creeping unease took hold of me, but I had to push through it. So far, the screens had only shown the usual: an empty, silent metro.

When I reached the platform, it was completely deserted. No trains, no wind. Just the sterile white glow of the neon lights on the floor. I walked a bit closer to the tunnel and noticed one of the lights was flickering.

The bulb was dying.

- I’ll have to write that down, I muttered to myself.

I turned to head back upstairs when suddenly a chill ran through me. The muscles in my neck froze as a shiver began at my lower back and climbed up to the base of my skull.

About twenty meters away stood two little girls, identical, wearing matching clothes. They just stared at me silently.

They had to be twins. Even from that distance I could tell they were nearly perfect copies of each other.

- Can you help us, please? They asked suddenly, in unison, their voices high-pitched and piercing.

Another shiver. I didn’t answer right away and that’s when they started walking toward me.

Identical, yes... but not completely. One of them had a limp. One leg was clearly shorter than the other, causing her to move awkwardly. I took a cautious step back. The only words that managed to escape my lips were:

- What are you doing here alone... in the middle of the night?”

They stopped.

- Can you help us find our mommy? They asked again, in the same synchronized, eerie tone.

This time, I forced myself to step forward.

- Where is your mother? I asked.

- We don’t know, replied one of them, the one with the limp. Both were wearing elegant blue dresses with flared skirts like porcelain dolls you’d find on an old grandmother’s shelf.

- We ran away when Daddy turned mean. She added.

Now they had my full attention.

They told me that when they were younger (they couldn’t be more than ten now), one stormy night their father had come home exhausted from work. Thunder crashed outside. Their mother had had a busy day, and dinner wasn’t ready yet.

A fight broke out.

The man shouted that she wasn’t the kind of wife he wanted. The girls hid in the hallway, listening. Their father’s voice rose with every word, accusing their mother of being useless saying she couldn’t even give him two normal daughters.

The limp.

He blamed her for that too.

At some point, a loud crash echoed through the house. Terrified, the girls bolted into the rain, past the gate, out into the night. Their mother’s screams followed them through the thunder.

They never went back.

They’d been looking for her ever since convinced she must’ve fled too.

I was shaken. My breath caught in my throat. I snapped back to reality, reaching for my phone.

- Will you help us now? They asked again in unison.

- I…

I dialed the police just as I heard it the wind that always came just before a train arrived.

But there was nothing.

- Control center?

- Yes, good evening. I’m the night watchman… I barely whispered.

I turned back. The twins were gone.

I looked around wildly. Nothing.

They had vanished.

I leaned over the edge of the platform. Two red lights stared back at me from far down the tunnel, glowing like eyes.

The voice on the phone urged me to speak, but I had none left.