The 11:47 PM train to the city’s outskirts was never supposed to run. At least, that’s what the schedules said. But every Thursday, when the clock struck midnight, a ghostly light would flicker at the end of the platform, and the doors would open without a sound. No conductor, no announcements—just the hum of an old, forgotten train waiting for passengers who had long since vanished. Elena had always been curious about the midnight subway. She worked late as a data analyst, and on one particularly sleepless night, she found herself standing in the empty station, her breath visible in the cold air. The lights above buzzed faintly, casting long shadows across the tiles. She watched as the train arrived, its doors sliding open with a soft hiss. The interior was dimly lit, and the seats were covered in dust, as if no one had sat there in decades. She stepped inside, the door closing behind her with a finality that made her pause. The car was silent except for the rhythmic clatter of the tracks. A single passenger sat near the back, cloaked in a heavy coat, their face hidden beneath a wide-brimmed hat. Elena hesitated, but something compelled her forward. She sat two rows away, her heart beating steadily in her chest. As the train moved, the world outside blurred into a series of flickering images—trees that seemed to sway in time with the train, buildings that appeared to breathe, and faces pressed against windows that melted away before she could focus. The man in the coat didn’t move, didn’t speak. He just sat, staring ahead as if watching something only he could see. At the next stop, the doors opened again, revealing a platform that wasn’t on any map. The sign read “Station 13,” which didn’t exist anywhere in the city’s records. A few people stepped off, their footsteps echoing strangely in the cavernous space. One of them turned toward Elena, and for a moment, she thought she saw her own reflection in their eyes. But when she blinked, they were gone. The train continued onward, and soon the landscape changed entirely. There were no more buildings, no streets, just endless stretches of dark water and distant, glowing lights. The man in the coat finally spoke, his voice low and hollow. “You’re not supposed to be here.” Elena’s breath caught. “Where is here?” He tilted his head slightly, as if considering the question. “A place between places. A stop for those who have forgotten where they’re going.” The train slowed, and the lights outside began to pulse like a heartbeat. The man stood, moving toward the exit. “You should get off here,” he said. “Before the next stop takes you somewhere you don’t want to be.” Elena’s hands trembled. “What happens if I stay on?” He looked at her then, and for the first time, she saw his face. It was her own. Or rather, it was someone who looked exactly like her, but older, wearier, with eyes that held the weight of a thousand unspoken stories. “You’ll never come back,” he whispered. “Not the same way.” The doors slid open once more, and this time, the platform was completely dark. No sign, no markings, just silence. The man stepped out, and as he did, the train lurched forward, carrying Elena deeper into the unknown. When she finally reached the last stop, the station was empty. The train had vanished, leaving her alone with the echoes of her own breathing. She walked back through the tunnels, her mind racing with questions. Was it a dream? A trick of the mind? Or had she truly traveled to a place that shouldn’t exist? As she emerged into the city, the sky was still dark, but the lights of the streets felt different now—fainter, as if the world had been holding its breath. She glanced back at the subway entrance, but it was gone, replaced by a blank wall. No signs, no tracks, no memory of what had happened. That night, Elena never returned to the midnight train. But sometimes, when the city fell quiet, she would hear a faint whistle in the distance, and feel the pull of something unseen, calling her once more.