The Midnight Passenger
The wind howled outside, rattling the windows of the old train station as Claire stepped onto the dimly lit platform. The midnight express was already there, its black iron frame glistening under the pale glow of the few working lamps. It seemed out of place in the modern world, like something ripped from another era. Her heart raced, but she couldn't turn back now. She had come too far to back down.
The small town of Harrowgate had always been quiet, too quiet for Claire's taste. People whispered about strange happenings, and the townsfolk had an unsettling habit of avoiding eye contact. But it was the train that intrigued her most—a train that no one seemed to talk about, but everyone knew existed. The Midnight Express, it was called, though no one remembered when it started running. The stories said it only appeared once a month, and its passengers... never returned.
Claire was a journalist by trade, and she had made a name for herself by chasing after urban legends. So when whispers about the Midnight Express reached her, she knew she had to see it for herself. Now, standing there on the platform, her breath visible in the icy night air, she wondered if she'd gone too far this time.
The doors to the train hissed open, releasing a puff of steam. No conductor greeted her, and no other passengers were in sight. With a hesitant step, Claire boarded, the door closing behind her with a finality that sent a shiver down her spine.
The inside of the train was just as eerie as the outside—plush, old-fashioned seats lined the narrow corridor, and the dim lights cast long shadows that danced on the walls. The air was thick with the scent of polished wood and something else she couldn’t quite place. Rot? Decay? She wasn’t sure, but it made her stomach churn.
She found a seat near the window, the train creaking as it slowly pulled away from the station. As the landscape outside blurred into a dark void, Claire tried to make sense of the feeling gnawing at her—an unnatural silence. No other passengers had appeared, and there was no sign of the conductor or crew. Just her, the empty train, and the endless night outside.
Minutes passed, or was it hours? Time felt distorted here. Claire glanced at her watch, but the second hand wasn’t moving. That’s when she noticed the first shadow.
It flickered across the window, a fleeting figure darting past. Her pulse quickened. Maybe it was her imagination, but when she looked again, the shadow was back, this time moving down the aisle toward her. A chill crept up her spine as the shadow seemed to grow darker, more solid, as it neared. Claire’s breath caught in her throat, and she fumbled for her phone, only to find that it was dead.
The figure stopped just a few feet from her, tall and shrouded in darkness, with no face Claire could make out. "You shouldn’t have boarded this train," it whispered, the voice like the creaking of old wood.
Claire bolted from her seat, rushing down the narrow aisle, but the doors at the end of the car wouldn't open. She pounded on them, her heart hammering in her chest. When she turned back, the shadow had disappeared. The train, however, had taken on a new atmosphere. The plush seats were torn, the windows now cracked and grimy. She could swear the walls were...breathing.
Suddenly, a loud clang echoed through the car, followed by the soft shuffle of footsteps. This time, Claire wasn’t alone. Passengers began to fill the seats, their faces pale and gaunt, eyes hollow as they stared at her with lifeless gazes. Some were dressed in clothes from decades past, others in modern attire. But one thing was clear—they weren’t alive.
Desperation clawed at her as she moved further down the train, but each car was the same—more and more passengers, all of them staring at her, waiting. For what, she didn’t want to know.
Finally, she reached the engine room. The door was locked, but with one frantic push, it gave way. Inside, she was met with an impossible sight. There was no engine, no conductor, just a swirling vortex of darkness at the front of the train, drawing everything toward it. The train wasn’t headed anywhere—it was a gateway to something far worse.
A voice whispered in her ear, soft yet terrifying. "You’re already one of us."
Claire turned to see her reflection in the window, but it wasn’t her. The woman staring back had pale skin and hollow eyes, a shadow of her former self.
The realization hit her like a freight train. She hadn’t boarded the Midnight Express to investigate a story. She had boarded it because it had been waiting for her all along.
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