Ravi had just closed the biggest business deal of his career, but his hands were cold.
Across the mahogany table sat a woman who felt less like a person and more like a living shadow. She wore a large, obsidian-black hat that draped over the top half of her face, leaving her features a complete mystery. Even in the harsh, artificial glare of the office lights, the shadow under her brim didn't move. Ravi couldn't even see the bridge of her nose, let alone her eyes.
"I am beyond impressed with your work, Ravi," she said. Her voice was thin, like silk rubbing against rusted iron. It sent a prickle of unease down his neck.
As the meeting concluded, she didn't offer a handshake. In the world of business, a handshake was everything, but she bypassed the tradition. Instead, she reached into her coat and produced something that caught the light—a shimmering golden train ticket.
"Consider this a small gift from me," she whispered, a thin, pale smile appearing on the lower half of her face. "A reward for a job well done."
Ravi stared down at the object. It was heavy—solid, like real gold—and it felt strangely warm in his palm. Before he could ask where the train was headed, or why a business partner was gifting him a private journey, the woman stood up. With a silent, fluid motion, she walked out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar.
Ravi was left alone in the sudden silence, clutching a golden ticket to a destination that didn't exist on any map he knew.
A deep, gnawing sense of unease settled in his stomach. Why would a stranger give him something that looked so expensive? Back at his office, he immediately searched for the name engraved on the gold: The Midnight Hollow.
Nothing. No website, no historical records, no luxury travel blogs. It was as if the train only existed in the woman's mind.
That night, Ravi sat alone in his quiet apartment. The hum of the refrigerator felt deafening. He kept turning the ticket over in his hands, watching it pulse with a faint, rhythmic glow in the dim light. He was torn. One part of him, the ambitious businessman, was consumed by curiosity. The other part, the primal human instinct, was screaming that this was a dangerous invitation.
He stared at the ticket until the early hours of the morning, watching the way the gold seemed to shimmer even when there was no light to reflect.
By morning, curiosity had won. Fear is a strong emotion, but the desire to know the unknown is often stronger.
The departure was set for exactly 13:13 PM. Ravi left his house early, his suitcase feeling heavier than usual. He stopped at a small corner cafe for a quick coffee and a sandwich, but he couldn't eat. His stomach was in knots. Is it safe? Is this some kind of elite club? Or am I making the biggest mistake of my life? His mind spiraled into a dark cloud of doubt. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't realize the minutes were ticking away. He glanced at the wall clock—10:30 AM. The central station was on the far side of the city, and the traffic was notorious.
Panic flared in his chest like a match being struck. He gathered his things, almost knocking over his cold coffee, and rushed out to flag down a taxi.
"Central Station. Fast," Ravi muttered as he climbed into the back seat.
The taxi driver didn't reply, just nodded. Ravi leaned back, but his muscles were taut. His heart was thumping against his ribs like a trapped bird trying to break free. He stared out the window as the city blurred past—gray buildings, rushing people, life going on as normal—while he felt like he was sliding off the edge of the world.
He reached the station with a heavy heart. Standing before the entrance, he felt a sudden, powerful urge to turn back. He paid the driver with a hand that wouldn't stop shaking.
The station towered over him—a massive, ancient monument of soot-covered stone and hissing steam. It looked like a beast waiting to swallow its next meal. Taking a ragged breath, he pushed through the heavy doors and stepped inside.
The interior was a cavern of echoes. The smell of grease, coal, and stale air filled his lungs. Ravi searched the departure boards, his eyes scanning every platform, but "The Midnight Hollow" was nowhere to be found.
Everything felt eerily off. Despite the hundreds of people around him, the world felt quiet, as if he were separated from them by a sheet of thick glass.
He spotted a ticket checker standing near a massive, old-fashioned steam engine.
"Excuse me, sir," Ravi said, his voice cracking. "I'm looking for my train. Platform 13? The Midnight Hollow?"
The checker snatched the gold ticket, glanced at it for a split second, and let out a harsh, jagged laugh.
"Go back home, kid," the man sneered, shoving the ticket back into Ravi's chest so hard it left a mark. "Someone played a prank on you. This isn't a real ticket. It's a prop. A piece of junk."
The man walked away into the billowing steam before Ravi could even defend himself.
A wave of intense shame washed over him. He felt like a fool. He turned to leave, ready to throw the ticket into the nearest trash can, when a shadow fell over him.
A man in a long, midnight-blue velvet coat was standing directly behind him. He looked ancient, his eyes sharp and unblinking.
"Sir," the stranger whispered, his voice like a secret. "May I see the golden ticket?"
Ravi held it up, expecting another laugh. But as soon as the stranger saw the faint, shimmering glow of the ink, his entire demeanor changed. He bowed so low his forehead almost touched his knees.
"My deepest apologies, sir," the stranger said softly, his voice trembling with respect. He gestured toward a small, hidden gate that was half-concealed by a velvet curtain. "Please, follow me. Your real journey is just beginning."
Ravi tried to ask questions—who was the woman? Where was the train going?—but the man remained silent, moving through the terminal with an effortless, ghostly grace.
They entered a section of the station that defied logic. The walls were lined with polished gold, the floors were white marble, and the air smelled of lilies and expensive perfume. It was beautiful, yet it carried a heavy, haunted atmosphere that made Ravi's skin prickle.
"Your train, sir," the man said, pointing to a magnificent locomotive that looked like it belonged to royalty.
Ravi checked the clock. It was time. When he turned to thank his guide, the man in the velvet coat was gone. There were no footsteps, no sound of a door closing. Just... gone.
A lady in a crisp, dark uniform stepped out, checked his ticket with a formal nod, and ushered him inside.
The interior was a palace on wheels. Gold-leafed ceilings, velvet-padded walls, and crystal chandeliers. Ravi found his seat: D-13. As the train began to move with a gentle, rhythmic hum, he finally let out the breath he'd been holding.
A waiter brought him a warm bowl of chicken noodle soup. The steam rose in fragrant swirls. Ravi ate, feeling the warmth spread through his body. Between the heavy meal and the steady vibration of the tracks, his eyelids became heavy. Within minutes, he slipped into a deep, dreamless sleep.
When Ravi woke up, the warmth was dead.
The royalty had vanished. The gold-leafed ceiling was now peeling and black with mold. The velvet walls were shredded, hanging like dead skin from a skeleton. The air didn't smell like lilies anymore; it smelled of wet earth and ancient decay.
He stepped out of his compartment, his breath hitching in his throat. The elegant train was a rusted wreck, looking like it had been sitting in a graveyard for a century.
Outside the frosted, cracked windows, there was no city. There were no tracks. Only a spectral, frozen wasteland stretched into an infinite, sunless gloom.
Suddenly, a chilling, disembodied voice hissed through the overhead vents, vibrating in his very bones:
"You have been trapped... forever."
A burst of cruel, echoing laughter followed, echoing through the empty, rotting carriages. Panic surged through Ravi's veins, but as he lunged for the door, he realized the truth.
The journey wasn't meant to take him somewhere. It was meant to keep him here.
And the doors didn't have handles on the inside.