The 11:47 PM train to the city’s outskirts was never supposed to run. The schedule said it didn’t exist, but every Thursday, the doors would open just after midnight, and the platform would be empty except for a single man in a dark coat, standing as if waiting for something that had long since passed. Mika had been riding the subways for years, but this one was different. She had taken the 11:47 before, though she couldn’t remember when. It was always the same—no other passengers, no announcements, only the soft hum of the train and the faint scent of old paper and rain. She sat near the back, watching the flickering lights pass by in slow, hypnotic waves. One night, the man in the dark coat stood up and walked toward her. He didn’t speak, but his eyes were deep and knowing, like he had seen too many things. He pointed at the window, where the tunnel stretched endlessly into darkness. Mika turned, and for a moment, she thought she saw a face reflected in the glass—not her own, but someone else’s, pale and wide-eyed, mouth open in silent scream. When she looked again, it was gone. The train slowed, and the lights dimmed. A low groan echoed through the car, like a distant creak of metal bending under pressure. Mika felt the air grow colder, and the temperature dropped so fast she could see her breath. The man in the coat stood motionless, his head tilted slightly, as if listening to something only he could hear. Then, the lights went out. Darkness swallowed the train. Mika’s heart pounded, but she forced herself to stay calm. She reached for her phone, but the screen was black, unresponsive. No signal, no light. Just silence. A whispering voice filled the car, not from any direction, but from everywhere at once. It spoke in a language she didn’t understand, but she felt its meaning: *You are not meant to be here.* She tried to stand, but her legs wouldn’t move. The man in the coat turned slowly, his face now visible in the faint glow of the emergency lights. His eyes were hollow, his skin pale as ash. He opened his mouth, and a sound came out—not human, not animal, but something between them, like the echo of a forgotten memory. Then, the train lurched forward. The lights flickered back on, and the man was gone. The doors slid open with a mechanical sigh, revealing a station she had never seen before. The walls were lined with clocks, all frozen at 12:00. The floor was covered in dust, and the air smelled of rust and decay. Mika stepped off the train, but the doors closed behind her, sealing her inside. She turned around, but the tracks ended in a wall of blackness. The whispers returned, louder now, and she realized they weren’t speaking to her—they were speaking to someone else. She ran down the corridor, past flickering lights and broken signs. At the end, there was a door. It was old, wooden, and covered in symbols she didn’t recognize. As she reached for the handle, the whispers stopped. Inside was a small room, lit by a single bulb. On the wall was a mirror, and in it, she saw not her reflection, but the man in the dark coat, smiling. Behind him, a crowd of faces, all staring back at her. She backed away, but the door slammed shut. The mirror cracked, and the faces within began to move, their mouths opening in unison. They whispered again, and this time, she understood. *You are the next one.* The lights went out once more, and the train started again, carrying the man in the dark coat toward some unseen destination. Mika was alone in the station, the clocks still frozen, the whispers fading into silence. And somewhere, in the depths of the subway system, the 11:47 train waited, ready to take another passenger who wasn’t meant to be there.