The last train always arrived at 12:17 a.m.
At least, that's what the old timetable said.
But no one in the town of Hollow Hill ever took that train.
The platform stayed empty every night. The lights flickered, insects buzzed around the broken lamps, and the tracks disappeared into thick forest.
People said the train stopped running ten years ago.
People also said they sometimes heard it.
The whistle.
The rumble.
The doors opening.
And sometimes… footsteps getting off.
My name is Neel Roy, and I didn't believe in ghost stories.
Until the night I waited for the last train.
Chapter 2: The Rumor
I was a journalist.
Small towns survive on rumors, and rumors make good stories.
The Hollow Hill train legend was perfect.
According to locals, a train accident happened on the line ten years ago. It derailed near the forest and dozens of passengers died.
Since then, the train supposedly still arrived every night.
But only the dead rode it.
Ridiculous.
Still, curiosity is a dangerous thing.
So I decided to spend one night at the station.
Chapter 3: Midnight
The station looked older than the town itself.
Paint peeled from the walls. The clock above the platform had stopped at 12:17.
I set up my camera and notebook.
11:58 p.m.
The wind was cold.
12:05 a.m.
The forest became silent.
Even the crickets stopped.
12:12 a.m.
I heard something far away.
A faint rumble.
My stomach tightened.
12:16 a.m.
The rails began to vibrate.
Then the whistle screamed through the darkness.
Chapter 4: The Train
It appeared out of the fog like a shadow.
Old.
Black.
Rust crawling across its metal body.
The windows were dark.
No lights.
The train slowed as it reached the station.
Then it stopped.
The doors slid open.
But no one got off.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then I saw movement inside.
Figures sitting in the seats.
Completely still.
Watching.
Chapter 5: The Passenger
A man stepped out of the train.
He wore an old suit and hat, like someone from another era.
His face was pale.
Too pale.
He looked at me slowly.
"You're not supposed to be here," he said.
His voice sounded distant, like it came from underwater.
"I'm a journalist," I replied.
He stared at me for a long moment.
Then he smiled.
"Then perhaps you should ride with us."
Chapter 6: The Ride
Against my better judgment, I stepped onto the train.
The door closed behind me.
Inside smelled like dust and iron.
The passengers sat perfectly still.
Men.
Women.
Children.
All silent.
All staring forward.
I walked down the aisle.
None of them blinked.
None of them breathed.
Then the train started moving again.
And one of the passengers turned its head toward me.
Chapter 7: The Faces
Their faces were wrong.
Skin grey.
Eyes hollow.
Some had burns.
Some had bloodstains on their clothes.
The air grew colder.
The man in the suit sat across from me.
"You wanted the truth," he said calmly.
"What happened to this train?"
He pointed toward the passengers.
"We died."
My heart pounded.
"This train crashed ten years ago."
"Yes."
"Then how are you here?"
He tilted his head slightly.
"We never arrived."
Chapter 8: The Forest
The train windows showed only darkness.
No town.
No station.
Just endless forest.
"How do I get off?" I asked.
The man smiled sadly.
"No one gets off."
"What do you mean?"
"This train doesn't go forward anymore."
"Then where is it going?"
He looked directly into my eyes.
"Back."
Chapter 9: The Truth
Suddenly memories rushed into my head.
Flashes.
Metal screaming.
People shouting.
Glass shattering.
Fire.
Then I saw myself.
Sitting in a train seat.
Ten years ago.
Holding a newspaper.
The headline read:
"Local Reporter Investigates Rail Safety."
My hands began shaking.
"No…"
The man nodded slowly.
"You were here that night."
The crash.
The fire.
The screams.
Everything came back.
"I died…" I whispered.
"Yes."
"You've been riding this train ever since."
Chapter 10: The Next Stop
The train began slowing again.
Outside the window I saw the station.
The same station.
The same platform.
The same clock frozen at 12:17.
But something was different.
Another person stood there.
Holding a camera.
Watching the train arrive.
A journalist.
Just like I had been.
The man in the suit stood up.
"It's time," he said.
"For what?"
He smiled gently.
"To welcome the next passenger."
The doors opened.
And I stepped onto the platform.
Chapter 11: The Cycle
The new journalist looked confused.
"Excuse me," he said. "Is this the last train?"
I smiled.
The same smile the man had given me.
"Yes."
My voice sounded strange now.
Cold.
Distant.
"You should ride it."
Behind me, the train doors waited open.
And inside, the passengers watched.
Waiting.
For one more seat to be filled.
The End.