The Last Train from Nowhere

At exactly 2:17 a.m., the abandoned Platform 13 was never supposed to be used.

In a forgotten corner of a London underground station, behind a rusted metal gate and a faded “Out of Service” sign, there was a platform that didn’t appear on any public map. Commuters from the UK, USA, and Australia had passed through this station thousands of times, never realizing that if you stood near the far wall at precisely the right moment, the wall would… breathe.

Daniel Harper first noticed it while working a late shift as a transit maintenance technician. He wasn’t chasing adventure. He wasn’t creating viral content. He was just tired, underpaid, and ready to go home.

That’s when the wall flickered.

Just for a second — like the surface of water disturbed by a ripple.

Curiosity pulled him closer.

The metal gate, which had been locked for decades, slowly swung open on its own. No alarms sounded. No lights flashed. The station remained silent, like the world had stopped breathing.

And then he heard it.

A distant train horn.

But there were no tracks.

Daniel stepped through.

The air changed instantly. It felt heavier, colder — like the inside of a forgotten dream. Before him stretched a dark tunnel and a fully formed platform lit by flickering lamps. Tracks rested where solid concrete should have been.

A digital sign above the tracks flickered:

NEXT TRAIN: UNKNOWN

A deep mechanical hum rolled through the tunnel.

Then the train arrived.

It looked old, like something from the 1940s, but polished to perfection. Its windows were dark, and its metal body reflected Daniel’s confused, pale face.

The doors slid open with a soft hiss.

Inside, the train was full.

People sat quietly, staring straight ahead. Men in business suits, women in old-fashioned dresses, teenagers in modern hoodies — all mixed together like different eras had been folded into one.

“Where is this train going?” Daniel asked a woman sitting near the door.

She turned to him slowly.

“I don’t remember,” she said. “I just remember getting on.”

The doors closed.

The train moved.

At first, it felt normal — like any underground ride. But soon, Daniel noticed something wrong outside the window.

There was no tunnel.

There was… sky.

Dark, endless sky filled with stars that moved in strange patterns, like they were watching him back. Shapes drifted in the darkness — massive, slow-moving shadows that didn’t look like clouds.

The train wasn’t underground.

It was flying through space.

“This isn’t real,” Daniel whispered.

A voice came from the speaker above.

“Reality is a flexible concept.”

The passengers didn’t react. They sat calmly, like this was just another commute.

Then the train stopped.

The doors opened.

Outside wasn’t a station.

It was a city.

A massive, floating city made of glass and light, hovering in the emptiness of space. Towers curved into the dark, connected by glowing bridges. Strange aircraft drifted silently between buildings.

A sign floated in the air, glowing softly:

WELCOME TO TERMINUS.

Daniel stepped off the train.

As soon as his feet touched the platform, he felt something shift inside him. Memories blurred. Thoughts softened. The world he came from felt… far away.

He turned back to the train.

The doors were closing.

“Wait!” he shouted, running forward.

A hand grabbed his shoulder.

A man stood behind him, smiling kindly.

“Don’t worry,” the man said. “Everyone panics the first time.”

“First time?” Daniel asked, breathing fast.

“Yes,” he replied. “You’ve been here before. You just don’t remember yet.”

Daniel’s heart dropped.

He looked around the city. People walked calmly, peacefully, like they had accepted this place long ago.

“But I have a life,” Daniel said. “A job. A family. A home.”

The man nodded.

“You did. On the other side.”

The city lights pulsed gently.

A memory hit Daniel like a wave.

Not his first ride.

Not his first arrival.

Not his first time forgetting.

He remembered standing on the platform before. Years ago. Decades ago. Maybe longer. He remembered stepping onto the train. He remembered promising himself he’d never forget.

And yet — he always did.

“Why can’t we leave?” Daniel asked quietly.

The man looked toward the stars.

“Because this place is where lost people go,” he said. “Not lost in distance… but lost in belonging.”

Daniel looked back at the empty tracks.

The train was gone.

The wall between worlds sealed shut.

And in the silent, floating city of Terminus, Daniel Harper finally understood the truth:

He wasn’t a visitor.

He was a resident.

And somewhere, in a world he no longer remembered, a late-night train still arrived every night at 2:17 a.m. —

waiting to bring someone else who didn’t belong.

The End