The 11:47 PM subway train was never supposed to run. Most of the time, it just sat in the station like a ghost, its doors closed and its lights flickering weakly. But on certain nights, when the city was quiet and the moon hung low, it would roll out of the tunnel like a shadow given form. Elena had taken the midnight train home from her job at the library for years, but she never saw the 11:47. She always caught the 12:03, which was always crowded and smelled of stale coffee and old paper. One night, though, she missed her usual train. The 12:03 was delayed, so she waited, watching the empty platform with its cracked tiles and peeling advertisements for long-forgotten businesses. That’s when the 11:47 arrived. It glided into the station without a sound, its metal body gleaming under the dim fluorescent lights. The doors opened with a soft hiss, revealing a car that looked exactly like every other subway car—except for the passengers inside. They were all facing the back of the train, their heads tilted slightly forward as if listening to something only they could hear. Elena hesitated, then stepped on. The air inside was colder than the outside, and the walls seemed to hum faintly, like a whisper just beyond comprehension. She found an empty seat near the middle of the car and sat down. No one spoke. No one moved. It wasn’t until the train started moving that she noticed the windows were dark, as if the world outside had been swallowed by a void. She tried to keep her composure, but something about the silence unnerved her. She glanced at the passengers again. Their faces were pale, almost translucent, and their eyes were fixed on the far end of the car. A few of them had small, unreadable symbols carved into their foreheads, like ancient runes etched by invisible hands. The train passed through stations that didn’t exist on any map. Elena recognized none of them. Some were named after words she didn’t know, others after places that should have been decades gone. The tracks beneath them pulsed faintly, as if the train itself was alive, breathing in slow, rhythmic waves. After what felt like hours, the train slowed and came to a stop. The doors opened once more, and the passengers began to file out, still facing the back of the car. One by one, they disappeared into the darkness beyond the platform, their footsteps echoing softly before fading away completely. Elena was alone now. The train was still running, but it had stopped at a new station. The sign above the door read “The Threshold.” She stood up, heart pounding, and stepped onto the platform. The air here was different—thicker, heavier, like walking through water. There was no light, no sound, just the feeling of being watched. At the far end of the platform, a single door stood open, glowing faintly with a blue light. It wasn’t like any door she’d ever seen. It had no handle, no frame, just a smooth surface that seemed to ripple slightly, as if it were made of liquid glass. She reached out, her fingers brushing the edge. A cold wave rushed through her, and suddenly she was standing in a room with no walls, no ceiling, no floor. The space stretched endlessly in all directions, filled with floating objects—books, clocks, photographs, and things that defied description. They drifted slowly, as if caught in a current of time itself. A voice whispered in her ear, not in words, but in thoughts. *You are not lost. You are found.* Elena turned, but there was no one there. Only the endless expanse, and the feeling that she had always been here, even though she knew she hadn’t. She reached for the door again, but it was gone. When she finally woke up, she was back on the 12:03 train, sitting in the same seat, the conductor announcing the next stop. The station clock showed 11:59 PM. She checked her phone—no messages, no missed calls. Just a normal day, as if nothing had happened. But in the corner of her eye, she saw a small symbol, faint and barely visible, carved into her wrist. It was the same as the ones on the passengers from the 11:47. She tried to rub it off, but it stayed, pulsing gently, like a heartbeat. And somewhere, deep in the tunnels beneath the city, the 11:47 was waiting again, its doors open, its passengers ready.