The Last Train Home

Daniel had never liked taking the late train, but that night he had no choice. Work had kept him longer than expected, and the last train departing from the nearly deserted station was his only way home. The platform was unusually quiet, the overhead lights flickering as if struggling to stay awake. A cold wind swept through the empty space, carrying scraps of newspaper across the cracked tiles. Daniel checked his phone for the time, relieved to see the train was arriving on schedule. When the distant rumble echoed through the night, he felt a strange sense of comfort. At least the ride would be short.

The train slid into the station with a metallic screech, its windows dark and reflective. Daniel stepped inside and immediately noticed how empty it was. Not a single passenger occupied the seats, and the air felt unnaturally cold. The doors closed behind him with a sharp hiss, and the train lurched forward. He chose a seat near the middle carriage, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling creeping up his spine. The fluorescent lights above flickered intermittently, casting long shadows that shifted with every movement of the train.

As the train gained speed, Daniel glanced at the digital route map displayed above the door. The first stop should have appeared within minutes, but the map remained blank. Confused, he leaned closer, wondering if it was malfunctioning. Then, faintly, he heard footsteps echoing from the other end of the carriage. He stiffened. He had been certain he was alone. The sound was slow and deliberate, like someone dragging their feet across the floor. Daniel stood and peered down the aisle, but the carriage appeared empty.

He told himself it was the train settling, the metal shifting under pressure. But then the lights flickered violently, plunging the carriage into darkness for a few seconds before buzzing back to life. When they did, Daniel noticed something chilling—there was now a figure sitting at the far end of the carriage. It was motionless, its face obscured by shadow. His breath caught in his throat. He was certain that seat had been empty moments ago.

Trying to remain calm, Daniel decided to move to another carriage. As he walked past the rows of seats, he avoided looking directly at the figure. But as he passed, he couldn’t resist a quick glance. The figure’s head turned sharply toward him, though its face remained hidden.

The train continued to race through darkness, but no stations appeared. Daniel’s phone lost signal, and the time on the screen froze. Panic set in as he realized the train was not slowing down. Suddenly, the intercom crackled to life with a distorted voice. “Next stop… Daniel.” His blood ran cold. The announcement repeated, louder and clearer each time, echoing his name throughout the carriage.

The lights flickered again, and when they stabilized, the carriage was no longer empty. Dozens of figures now filled the seats, all motionless, all faceless. They slowly turned their heads toward him in perfect unison. The air grew heavier, making it difficult to breathe. Daniel staggered backward until his back hit the train door. The intercom screeched once more, and the train finally began to slow.

Through the window, Daniel expected to see his usual station, but instead there was only darkness stretching endlessly in every direction. The doors slid open with a mechanical sigh. Beyond them lay nothing but blackness, thick and impenetrable. The faceless passengers rose silently from their seats, stepping toward him.

Daniel realized then that this was no ordinary train. It was not meant to take him home. It was meant to take him somewhere else entirely. As the figures closed in, the last thing he heard was the distorted voice whispering, “End of the line.”

The next morning, the station was busy as usual. Commuters boarded their trains without a second thought. No one noticed that one carriage felt colder than the rest, or that for a brief moment, a new passenger appeared in the reflection of the window—sitting quietly, staring straight ahead, waiting for the next lonely traveler to board the last train home.