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The Last Train to Nowhere
mysteryEveryone5 contributors · 5 paragraphs deep
"If it stopped running, why do I have a ticket?" he asked. The clerk's face went pale. He looked at the photo, then at the man, then back. "Because the last train never actually arrived," he whispered. "And neither did you." Behind the man, a cold wind began to blow through the locked doors.
The cold wind died. The clerk reached through the window and gripped the man's hand, and his fingers were like ice. "There's one way to truly arrive," he said. "Walk to the platform and wait. The last train is forty years late, but it always comes for the ones who stay." The man sat down on the bench to wait, and this time he was not afraid.
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