Rain hammered against the cracked windows of the old apartment building, each drop echoing like a drumbeat in the otherwise silent hall. Elena hugged her coat tighter, hurrying down the narrow corridor, her shoes squeaking against the wet tiles. She wasn’t supposed to be out so late, but her shift had run late, and the bus had long since disappeared into the dark city.
That’s when she saw it.
At the far end of the hallway, a shadow twisted unnaturally against the peeling wallpaper. It was tall, impossibly thin, with limbs that bent in ways human joints shouldn’t. Its head tilted at an impossible angle, staring at her with hollow black sockets. Elena froze, her pulse hammering so hard she feared it might give her away.
“Hello?” she whispered, her voice trembling.
The creature didn’t move—at first. Then, ever so slightly, it shifted, gliding closer, its movement more like a shadow sliding across the walls than a living being walking. Elena blinked. When she opened her eyes, it was gone.
Heart racing, she told herself it was a trick of the light, her tired mind imagining things. But when she reached the lobby, the same distorted shadow was there, leaning just outside the glass doors, watching her.
Panic clawed at her chest. Elena broke into a run, darting into the streets slick with rain. The city lights flickered and hummed above, casting distorted reflections on the puddles. When she glanced back, she saw it again, following—but never running, never breaking its strange, gliding pace.
The creature’s form started to shift, growing closer to human, yet its features remained wrong—elongated fingers, a gaping mouth that seemed sewn shut, eyes that reflected nothing but void. Elena’s mind screamed at her to look away, but her body couldn’t stop staring.
She ducked into a crowded subway station, hoping the noise and people would hide her. But as the train approached, she saw it standing among the passengers, perfectly still, its head cocked in curiosity. No one else noticed. She tried to scream, but no sound escaped her throat.
Then it spoke.
Not in words, not in a voice, but in thoughts, invasive and intimate, crawling through her mind: “I’ve always been here. Watching. Waiting. You cannot escape what sees you.”
Elena’s legs gave way, and she stumbled onto the platform. When the train doors opened, she threw herself inside, collapsing onto a seat. The train surged forward, and for a fleeting second, she thought she’d left it behind.
But when she looked up, the creature was inside the train, sitting across from her. Its head tilted unnaturally, eyes locking onto hers.
And then it smiled.
A smile that promised she would never be alone again.
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The Station Without Trains
Seen (1) At the far end of a desert highway stood a train station that no map acknowledged. There were no tracks leading to it, no schedules posted, and no trains that ever arrived. Still, every evening at sunset, the lights turned on. Maya found the station by accident while driving cross-country to escape a life that felt too heavy. Her radio had gone silent miles ago, and her phone showed no signal. When she saw the station glowing in the distance, she pulled over, relieved to find signs of life. The station was clean, almost untouched by time. Wooden benches lined the platform, and an old clock hung above the entrance, forever stuck at 6:40. The air smelled of dust and iron, like a place waiting to be used. “Hello?” Maya called. No answer. She sat on a bench, telling herself she would leave in five minutes. But as the sun disappeared, the lights grew warmer, softer. Calm settled over her in a way she hadn’t felt in years. A man in a conductor’s uniform stepped out from the shadows. His clothes looked old-fashioned, but neatly pressed. His face was kind, though tired. “You’re early,” he said. “Early for what?” Maya asked. “For the train,” he replied. Maya frowned. “There are no tracks.” The man smiled gently. “Not all journeys need them.” He explained that this station was a place between leaving and arriving—a pause for those who were lost, grieving, or running from something they couldn’t name. People didn’t come here on purpose. They arrived when they needed stillness. “Does the train ever come?” Maya asked. “Yes,” he said. “But only once for each person.” Maya felt a tightness in her chest. “Where does it go?” The conductor looked at the horizon. “To the life you stopped believing in.” Maya thought of the dreams she had abandoned, the version of herself she no longer recognized. Tears surprised her, sliding down her face without warning. “I don’t know if I’m ready,” she whispered. The conductor nodded. “That’s why the train hasn’t arrived.” They sat in silence as the stars appeared. For the first time in years, Maya didn’t feel the urge to run. She felt seen. Slowly, the station lights dimmed. The conductor stood. “When you leave,” he said, “you won’t remember this place. But you’ll remember how you felt.” A distant sound echoed—not a train horn, but something close to a heartbeat. Maya blinked. She was back in her car, parked on the side of the empty highway. The station was gone. The road stretched endlessly ahead. But her chest felt lighter. She turned the key and drove forward, not knowing exactly where she was going—but certain, for the first time, that she was finally on the right track.
By Do bol ho jaaye a day ago in Horror
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