A train station, empty except for a handful of blurred figures. The air smells of metal and rain, thick and damp against her skin. The overhead lights flicker, casting shadows that stretch and retract like they're alive. Something about the place feels way too familiar to her, but she can't place why and how.

She's standing near the platform edge, holding her coat tightly with one hand, her breath visible in the cold air. Her heart pounds with an unshakable sense of urgency, though she doesn't know why. Then, a man passes right through her side, his face is obscured, his presence ghostly. He walks by in slow motion, and as he does, something falls from his fingers or he knowing drops it just Infront of her. A key.

It clinks against the ground, sharp against the muffled noise of distant announcements. She bends down, reaching for it, but before she can grasp it, he speaks, more like a whisper to her; "Don't forget again".

Her fingers froze just above the keys. Cold ice runs through her veins. Her head snaps up in a lighting force

A train is coming. Too fast. Too soon, before anyone could react.

Someone screams, those sounds echoes all through the station.

There's a flash of blinding light.

And then....

Nothing.

She wakes up with a jolt.

The sheets were tangled around her legs, her body drenched in sweat despite the cool air of her bedroom. Her heart pounds, the dream still fresh, still vivid, but still wrong.

It's not a new thing for her, She's had strange dreams before too flashes of things she doesn't understand, fragments of places she swears she's never been. But this? This felt different, to much real to be exact and knowing she feels cold running all around her body.

Her breathing slows as she blinks into the darkness, trying to bring herself into the reality. The faint glow of the streetlamp's outside spills through her transparent curtains, casting silver streaks across the floor. But the Same thing was, The rain which continues to patter against the window, just like in the dream she saw just a moment ago.

She rubs her face. Just a dream. She estate's trying to shake out the feeling of cold rushing through her spine.

But then suddenly she feels it.

Something cold against her palm, something metallic which she had fell before too.

Her breath hitched as she slowly uncurls her fingers.

A key.

The same one from the dream.

She froze right in her place, the only thing she could do was just stare and stare at the cold metal which is placed against her skin, the jagged edges digging in slightly. This isn't possible. It can't be. But it's there, real and solid and settled just in her hand like it belongs there since forever.

A sudden shiver runs down her spine.

She sits up, clutching the key so tightly till her knuckles go white. Maybe she picked it up earlier and forgot. Maybe it was always here, and she's imagining things. But deep down, she knows that's not true, both the options are not true. She had never seen this key before, neither in her room or somewhere except in the dream.

Or has she??

The thought unsettles her. She again look down towards the keys on her hand. Lately, there have been gaps in her memory likely small at first, little things like forgetting why she walked into a room or sometimes misplacing objects she swears she left somewhere else. But then there were bigger things. Those entire conversations she couldn't recall. Faces that seemed familiar but just out of reach, just like a blurry vision of someone she knows but at a same time she doesn't. from forgetting small things to big and later turning the same problem into something else she couldn't figure out herself.

And now this, The same Key from the same unknown person, but the thing was It's in her hand and right under her eyes to which she can't say its a dream.

She force herself to breathe to calm herself down. Think. There has to be a logical explanation. Maybe the dream was just her subconscious remembering something real. Maybe she thought she hoped.

And her eyes suddenly drift's to the clock on her nightstand. 3:47 AM.

She looks back at the key, then then at the window. Outside, the rain falls steadily, the city streets deadly silent, the only sound was the raindrops falling, nothing else.

She doesn't remember going anywhere. She doesn't remember leaving her bed. She tried to make herself believe that.

But..

She looks near the Door and again the same cold runs through her back.

Her shoes, Were there sitting by the door, Wet like they had been used just a while ago or something.

She swallows hard, still her eyes at the door and the shoes settled over there.

Something is wrong. very much wrong.

The next morning came up sooner then she thought. But the more strange thing was the key which still sits on her nightstand like it belongs there. She had barely slept, turning it over in her hands again and again, trying to make sense of it. But no matter how many times she traces its edges, it doesn't change the fact that she doesn't know where it came from, neither she had seen them before then how? Was the only thing she could asked herself.

By the time the sun rises, she had made up her mind.

She has to go to that train station, to know the truth.

If the dream wasn't just a dream, if it was a memory resurfacing then maybe, just maybe, she'll find answers there. She can't shake the feeling that something happened to her in past, something she's supposed to remember but couldn't or is there something else she don't want to know herself.

And if she doesn't start looking for the truth now, she might never get the chance. Maybe something is there she's missing, which is missing from her life and she is willing to know the truth.

Don't forget again.

The words echo in her mind repeatedly, as chilling as the key in her palm.

She won't forget.

Not this time, She thought In her mind, As she thinks about the thing's she's going to do.

Hopefully. Or will She?

//Next Day//

The rain hasn’t stopped. It's still pouring like yesterday night and still it's drops are rapidly falling down from the sky like someone's crying out there, their heart out. It still continues till she leave her house and towards her destination. It looks like the raindrops are following her like an unspoken omen as she steps inside the train station. The air is thick like her dream with the scent of damp concrete and rusting metal, the rhythmic drip of water echoing through the cavernous space.

But somehow it’s quite different from her dream. Busier, louder but something about it still feels unsettlingly familiar. Every detail seems to press against the edge of her mind, teasing her with a memory just out of her own reach.

She tightens her grip around the key she found out yesterday night, its metal still cold against her palm. The same spot. The same feeling. If her dream wasn’t just a dream, if it was a fragment of something real, then maybe, just maybe, this station holds the answers she’s looking for. But the more she stands there, the more she feels like the walls themselves are watching her, her every steps, her actions, Everything.

Her eyes land on a torn, faded poster stuck to the old Announcement board near the platform entrance. But something about it makes her breath hitch. Though the ink has worn away, the edges curling from years of neglect, but it’s unmistakably a missing person’s notice. The image is too faded to make out, but a familiar sensation crawls through her chest like she had seen this before, but not with her waking eyes, maybe in her dream's.

A flash brief, suddenly slams through her head like she's being hit hardly. The station. The scream. The key hitting the ground. But now there’s something new.

A girl.. Is beside her in the vision, someone whose face is blurred like an unfinished painting again. The moment is gone just as quickly as it came, leaving her with a pounding headache and an unease curling around her ribs, those feelings she felt when she was with that unknown man yesterday or in dreams she still don't know.

She takes a step back, her breath shaky. That’s when she sees him, A Man, not the same but still gives the same vibe of the old man she met before.

The Man who was standing a few feet away, half-hidden in the shadows near the vending machine. He’s watching her. Not like the way strangers idly glance at passersby, but with purpose. Like he knows something. Like he knows her, About her and want to confront her but still can't.

Before she can say anything to him, he speaks. “You shouldn’t be here!.” His voice low, rough, edged with something close to fear she can't pin-point.

Her fingers tighten around the key settled in her palms. “Do I… do i know you?”

His jaw clenches, and for a second, he looks like he’s debating whether to answer the questions she asked him or not. Then, suddenly without another word, he turns sharply and walks away.

“Wait-!” She moves forward to follow, but something small slips from his fingers or he purposely did as he vanishes into the small but huge crowd to find. A single train ticket flutters to the wet floor.

As She bend down and picks it up, while her pulse hammering against her ribs. The date printed on it sends a chill down her spine.

Again the same feeling, and she knows that it wasn't a good sign.

It’s from a journey she doesn’t remember taking before in her life, but the thing which she had just held in her hand shows that it belongs to Her.

Suddenly Her vision wavers. The edges of the station distort like heat ripples on asphalt. The sound of the rain dulls, replaced by an erotic silence. Her head throbs, and suddenly, she isn’t standing on the platform anymore.

She’s somewhere else, but how?

The lights were flickering. The walls seem older, cracked, covered in something dark. A train rushes past, its windows distorted, the passengers inside, who's faces were shifting, melting into one another like a wax figures under a flame.

And then-

A whisper, Same one. Right by her ear.

“Don’t forget again.”

She gasps, stumbling backward. The world snaps back into focus. She’s sitting on a bench, the ticket clenched tightly in her fist. Her hands are trembling with fear or with cold running in her spine, that she don't know. She doesn’t remember sitting down. She doesn’t even remember how she got there.

All she knows that, She knows Nothing.

The train station looks normal again. The people around her move like nothing happened. But she knows better now.

Something happened here. Something is buried in her past. And whatever it is, it’s starting to bleed through, like the past is itself remembering her what had happened.

The key. The dream. The time she saw, the ticket, the train, The man who seemed to recognize her. It’s all connected.

And now She has to know the truth, The real truth beneath this. Before she loses herself completely.

Again.

Maybe now it isn't just a coincidence, but a past she have to find out herself. Alone and she will.

As she opens her eyes, she found out that she wasn't on the same bench she was sitting before but, Now she was somewhere else again.

Was she time travelling again like last time? but How? She doesn't have any answer to this question yet.

As she look ahead of her she saw a train stands before her, the doors were yawning open like the mouth of an abyss. The air inside was thick, heavy with something unexplainable like memories which weren’t hers but still feel deeply familiar. The dim overhead lights flicker erratically, casting elongated shadows on the worn-out seats inside. The passengers sit eerily still, their heads bowed like they don't want to see neither show their faces, it hidden beneath the brims of hats and the shadows of flickering lights.

The ticket in her grip feels warmer now, as if it's urging her to step inside the train.

She doesn’t want to, but her feet move on their own like something's pulling her inside the train.

The doors slide shut behind her with a soft hiss. She takes slow steps down the aisle, her heartbeat syncing with the slow, deliberate rhythm of the train’s movement. She tries to catch a glimpse of the passengers' faces, but the moment she focuses on one, it distorts features blurring, twisting into something grotesque, something unnatural like she isn't allowed to look at any of them.

Her breath quickens. The train isn't just moving forward. It feels like it’s moving backward in time, Fastly but slowly at the same time.

A familiar whisper slithers through the stale air again.

"You're late."

She spins around, searching for the voice. At the far end of the compartment, near the connecting door, a woman stands. Dressed in an old-fashioned black dress beautifully, her hair falls in loose waves over her shoulders, obscuring part of her face. There’s something unsettlingly familiar about her.

"Who are you?" she manages to whisper.

The woman tilts her head, lips parting as if to speak. But before a word escapes, the train lurches violently. The lights flicker, plunging the compartment into momentary darkness. A sharp and loud scream pierces the air.

And then, Silence.

It was Silence for a moment till the light return's

When the lights return, the woman was already gone.

Then the train slows. The atmosphere shifts into something different she felt like danger. The passengers, once lifeless, suddenly rise in unison, their movements synchronized, robotic. They turn toward her, their hollow eyes locking onto her as if she’s an intruder in a place she doesn’t belong to.

Panic surges through her veins. She has to get out, immediately.

The train screeches to a halt making her slightly jolt. The doors slide open, revealing a platform shrouded in thick fog. She stumbles forward, barely but fastly making it off the train before the doors slam shut behind her. She breathed heavily.

She turns to look at the train but it’s gone. No screeching departure, no fading lights. Just… gone completely like it never existed there just a moment ago.

if not then how come she was here at the unfamiliar but still the familiar place if the train never existed? was she hallucating?

The station in front of her were completely different from before. The walls were cracked, the signs faded and peeling. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and something metallic.. Blood?

And then, she sees it Again.

The exact same missing poster she saw at the previous station.

But, it's no longer faded. The ink is fresh, the image looks crystal clear like it's newly being placed.

but the thing scare her was that, her own face was their like she's looking at the mirror but not the poster.

"Missing: Last Seen at the Station. Boarding the 11:45 Train."

Her blood runs cold when she saw the information written below her photo, she felt like her blood soaked from her body completely while processing what she just read.

She was missing? the same poster she saw before was hers ? but she doesnt remembers going anywhere far away to go missing like this.

But the thing was who put the poster ther? was there any relatives of her who knows her that she doesnt remembers? but as much as she know their were no one she knew or was too close to her to look for her.

Was she really supposed to leave or was not supposed to?.

Did she? or not?

She didn't know, what was happening, those dreams, that man, the key, the station, strange behaviour of people's inside the train, the lady's sudden appearance and disappearing Infront of her own eyes, and now the missing poster of her right in front of her eyes, fresh and newly inked.

She knows nothing, She just felt a huge burden up at her head seeing at this things like someone's playing with her mind, heart, herself and suddenly she felt sharp pain in her head and drop down on ground unconscious right in front of the poster where her own image was being posted on the wall.

This time the Darkness which engulfs her, pressing against her mind like an unseen weight wasn’t the kind of darkness that brings peace like before, it is suffocating, clinging to her skin like a leach, whispering things she can hear but doesn’t understand . Voices swirl around her, all she could hear was murmuring in languages she doesn’t recognize, yet they feel painfully familiar. She tries to move, but her limbs feel sluggish, her body feels like it's being pressed with a heavy thing and thrown down deep, like she’s trapped in water. Deep down.

Then, a sudden jolt.

She gasps, inhaling sharply as if she’s been drowning. Her eyes snap open, but everything around her is blurred, shifting unnaturally like a dream she can’t wake up from. Her body aches like it was beaten to death, her head throbs, and there’s a metallic taste in her mouth. The air is thick damp, heavy, tinged with something foul. Blood?

She pushes herself upright with shaky arms. The floor beneath her is hard and uneven not cold concrete like the station platform, but something rougher. Wood?

Water? Blood? Wood? She don't know anything.

The dim light above flickers erratically, casting shadows that seem to twist and move on their own. She glances around, and her stomach knots. She’s inside a train compartment. But this isn’t the one she remembers, the one where she was travelling just before she black out. The seats were old and dust-ridden, their fabric torn and frayed. The metal walls were rusted, streaked with something dark, A dark scripted words or signs no one knows. The scent of decay lingers in the air, mingled with dampness and something unnervingly but familiar to her.

She force herself to breathe evenly. Think hardly.

She remembers getting off the train. She remembers seeing the missing poster with her own picture on it, which was newly hanged like she had been missing recently, but was she?. She remembers the sharp pain in her skull before everything went black. So how is she back on the train?

Just How? The only question which comes in her might right now. How? how? and just HOW?

Her fingers instinctively curl around something in her palm. She looks down and realizes she’s still holding the key. It’s warm against her skin, pulsing faintly, like it’s alive. Like it's giving her a signal to use, like it wants her to use it.

A soft creak breaks the silence.

Her breath hitches. Footsteps slow, but deliberate, echoing through the empty compartment. The sound of shoes brushing against wood, growing closer. She clenches the key tighter, her pulse hammering against her ribs.

She turns her head slowly.

At the far end of the compartment, near the connecting door, The woman is standing. She looks familiar to her.

Her silhouette is barely illuminated by the flickering overhead light. She’s still wearing that black dress, its fabric clinging to her frame like a shadow. Her hair, once loose and flowing, now drapes over her face, obscuring her features. But even without seeing her eyes, she knows she’s being watched. By her like she knows her way more then herself and it gives her a cold feeling inside her heart.

“You were supposed to stay,” the woman murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper, yet it reverberates through the empty space like a command and right through her eyes like it was directly only said to her in whispers.

Her stomach twists. “Stay where?” Her own voice comes out hoarse, and weak.

The woman takes a step forward. The lights flicker again, and for a brief moment, the entire compartment is plunged into darkness. When the light returns, the woman is closer.

“You left,” the woman says, tilting her head. “But you never really did.”

A sharp ringing fills her ears. She grips the key tighter, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

“I don’t belong here,” she whispers.

“I don’t even remember being here.”

The woman moves again slowly, but it isn’t a normal step it’s as if the space around her shifts, pulling her forward without effort. One moment, she’s at the end of the compartment; the next, she’s only a few feet away from her.

“But the train remembers,” she says softly.

Then suddenly she reaches out her cold fingers brushing against her tightly gripped wrist.

And.. Everything changes.

Just like a blink of an eye.

She is no longer inside the train.

She is somewhere else.

Rain pours heavily around her. The scent of wet earth fills her nostrils. The station lights flicker weakly, their glow barely reaching the slick pavement. The sound of distant thunder rumbles through the air.

She sees herself. Standing right in front of herself.

Standing on the platform. Holding the ticket. Her posture is rigid, her face void of emotion. She isn’t trembling. She isn’t confused. She knows exactly what she’s doing, where she is going.

The 11:45 train arrives. That exact time. That exact time.

The doors slide open. Without hesitation, she steps inside.

The train doors close. The train departs.

And she vanishes. Just Infront of her eyes completely.

A breath catches in her throat, and just like that, the vision shatters around her. She stumbles back, her pulse roaring in her ears like a loud drums.

No. That didn’t happen. She didn’t she doesn’t remember, not coming there neither taking the ticket.

The train, ticket, platform, her leaving at the exact time, Everything was too much for her.

The woman only watches, her expression unreadable. “But the train remembers,” she repeats.

A deafening screech fills the air. The entire compartment shudders violently. The lights flicker, buzz, and then explode, plunging everything into pitch-black darkness.

And the last thing she hears before everything fades is the whisper, curling around her like smoke tangling her to death-

“It’s coming back for you.”

Again.

When she wakes, the world is different. Like the one before this never existed.

She’s lying on her back, the scent of damp earth still clinging to her. But she isn’t on the train anymore.

She’s back at the station, The earlier One.

The same cracked walls. The same peeling signs. The same oppressive fog rolling across the empty platform. Like she never left.

She pushes herself up, her head still throbbing. A single dim light flickers above, barely illuminating the area. The station is silent way too silent. No trains. No people. Just emptiness stretching beyond sight.

Then, she sees it.

The missing poster.

She doesn’t want to look, but her feet move on their own, bringing her closer. The ink is fresh. The paper isn’t faded anymore. The edges aren’t torn or weathered.

Her own face stares back at her.

"Missing: Last Seen at the Station. Boarding the 11:45 Train."

Her blood runs cold.

A sharp, unbearable weight presses against her skull. Her mind swirls with fragmented images the train, the woman, the passengers with their bowed heads, the whispers calling her name.

Then a sharp pain hit her.

A searing, blinding pain that forces her to her knees. She clutches her head, the world tilting beneath her. The sound of screeching wheels floods her ears again, and a voice she doesn’t recognize but somehow knows, whispers one final thing before the darkness consumes her once more.

“It’s time to board.”

The first thing she felt before waking up was the sharp ache pulsing behind her closed eyes. The sensation of cold, rough concrete against her skin followed next, grounding her to reality or at least, whatever this time was.

A slow inhale. The scent of damp air and rust clung to her lungs, metallic and old. The faintest hum of something distant, rhythmic like the turning of gears, lingered at the edges of her hearing. It was different from the train station she had last seen before everything blacked out. This place felt ancient, untouched, forgotten, like something which is lost in time.

She forced her eyes open, blinking rapidly as her vision adjusted. The dim lighting barely illuminated the space around her. Old, flickering bulbs hung from the ceiling, casting elongated shadows across the cracked tile floor. The walls were damp, streaked with something dark she refused to acknowledge. She was underground. Somewhere deep from the normal ground.

Her hands pressed against the floor, pushing herself up into a seated position. A sharp pain lanced through her temples, causing her to wince. She reached up instinctively, her fingers brushing against something warm and sticky. Blood. Not much, but enough to set her nerves on edge.

She wasn’t alone.

A shuffling sound echoed through the corridor, the scuff of boots against stone. Her breath hitched as she turned her head slowly, her pulse pounding in her ears. A figure stood at the end of the hallway, half-hidden in the shadows. The silhouette was tall, unmoving, watching.

The air around her grew impossibly still.

“Who’s there?” Her voice cracked slightly, the lingering effects of unconsciousness making her throat dry. The figure didn’t answer, but the silence stretched unnaturally, pressing against her skin like a tangible weight.

Then, the footsteps began again closer and way closer this time.

She scrambled back, her hands scraping against the rough surface behind her. Panic flared in her chest, but before she could make a move, a voice cut through the air. Low, deliberate.

“You shouldn’t have come back.”

Her breath caught. That voice. It was the same one from before, from the station. The man who had warned her. The one who had left behind the train ticket to her purposely.

“What is happening to me?” she demanded, forcing steel into her voice despite the tremble in her hands. “What is this place?”

The figure stepped forward, allowing the dim light to catch his features. He was older than she had initially thought, lines of exhaustion carved into his face. His eyes, dark and unreadable, flickered with something between frustration and unease.

“You don’t remember, do you?” he said softly, almost pitying.

She clenched her jaw. “Remember what?”

He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face before crouching down to her level. “You’ve been here before.”

Her head shook instinctively. “That’s impossible. I-”

But the moment she started to argue, images surged forward like a crashing tide. Flashes of movement. A train. A tunnel. The overwhelming scent of something burning. A scream of a girl... She remembers the voice, it's her own?

She gasped, clutching at the sides of her head as pain seared through her skull. The man didn’t move to help her, only watching with an unreadable expression.

“You’re starting to wake up,” he murmured. “But you don’t have much time.”

She sucked in a breath, steadying herself. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated, glancing down the dark corridor before meeting her gaze again. “They know you’re here.”

A chill ran through her. “Who?”

A flicker of hesitation. Then, “The ones who never left.”

The words sent ice curling down her spine.

Before she could demand an explanation, a deep, echoing sound reverberated through the space. A distant, guttural wail, hollow and unnatural. The man tensed, his posture shifting instantly to something more defensive.

“Get up,” he ordered, his tone which defines no argument .

Adrenaline surged through her limbs as she scrambled to her feet sloppily. The moment she did, the atmosphere around them shifted. The lights above flickered more erratically, the air itself seeming to tremble.

“Run.”

He didn’t have to tell her twice. She bolted after him as he led the way through the underground passage, her breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps. The sound of pursuit followed them, echoing unnaturally as if coming from everywhere at once.

They turned a sharp corner, nearly colliding into a rusted metal door. The man yanked it open, shoving her inside before slamming it shut behind them. The heavy clang reverberated through the air, sealing them in momentarily.

She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to calm the frantic pounding of her heartbeat. “What the hell was that?”

The man leaned against the door, his expression grim. “You don’t want to know.”

She stared at him, frustration bubbling to the surface. “You keep saying I’ve been here before. That I should remember. But I don’t! What am I supposed to do? Pretend I understand when none of this makes sense does this really?”

His gaze was steady but without any expression. “Then it’s time you start remembering.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but the moment she did, something shifted. The air grew thicker, heavier, and a new wave of images crashed into her mind. This time, they weren’t fragmented. They were vivid. Real.

She saw herself, standing on a different platform, her reflection visible in the glass window of a train that shouldn’t exist. The same missing poster, but the name beneath her image wasn’t hers it was something else. Something old.

But did that make her relief? She doesn't feel anything.

And then, a voice not hers, not the man’s, but something far more ancient, whispering directly into her mind.

“You never left.”

The breath in her lungs stilled.

Her knees gave out, but the man caught her before she hit the ground. His grip was firm but not unkind.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered.

He exhaled, something like regret flickering in his expression. “You will.”

The distant wailing returned, closer this time. The door behind them rattled violently.

“We have to move,” he said, pulling her up.

She nodded, the pieces of her past still disjointed, but one thing was clear.

She wasn’t just lost in a mystery.

She was part of this Mystery.

A part of a Mystery which she didn't remember. But she is willing to solve it.

But will she be able to do that? Was the girl in the poster herself? But the name wasn't her's. Was that someone in past or now who looks exactly same as her? But the keys and ticket, how they ended up in her room, her life?

She doesn't have any answer of all this questions neither she wants to answer it to herself till, Till she find the solution in her Own.

A sharp pain pulses behind her eyes as she regains consciousness. The cold ground beneath her sends chills through her body, and the scent of damp air lingers in her lungs. Slowly, she pushes herself up, her fingers brushing against the rough concrete of the station floor. For a brief moment, she forgets where she is. Then her gaze lands on the missing poster.

Her face. But not her name or maybe hers she didn't know. The details of her disappearance staring back at her like a cruel joke, like its laughing while looking at her own face. But she wasn’t missing. She was here. Isn’t she?

A cold dread settles over her as she forces herself to stand, swaying slightly. The station is way too quiet now, different from the crowded, noisy place she remembers before she lost consciousness. The dim lights flicker erratically, casting long, wavering shadows along the platform.

She glances around, hoping to find a familiar face, a sign that this is all some elaborate mistake. But the station is empty. No people. No trains. Nothing, just Nothing.

A shiver crawls down her spine as she grips the ticket and the key tighter in her hand. Something isn’t right. Something is terribly, horribly wrong.

Then, she hears it-a whisper. Soft, barely audible, yet it seems to echo from every corner of the station.

“Wake up… wake up…”

She spins around, heart pounding. The voice is familiar, but she can’t place it. Her vision blurs for a moment, and when it clears, she sees something or someone standing at the far end of the platform.

A woman, draped in shadows, was watching her.

She takes a cautious step forward, but before she can speak, the woman turns and walks away, disappearing into the fog that clings to the station’s edges. A strange pull urges her to follow, and she did.

She hesitates for a second before stepping forward. Each footstep echoes unnaturally loud in the empty station. The silence around her is suffocating, pressing in from all sides. The fog thickens, swallowing the world beyond the platform.

She reaches the spot where the woman disappeared, only to find nothing but a rusted, broken sign that reads: No Entry-Restricted Area.

But something about this place feels important, like a memory just out of reach. Her fingers trail along the edges of the rusted metal before she glances down at the key in her hand.

Could it be?

With a deep breath, she kneels and presses the key into the old lock beneath the sign. A click. The gate creaks open, revealing a narrow staircase descending into darkness.

Without any another thought, she steps inside.

As she walks inside deep, she noticed that the stair which seems endless, but her feet kept moving forward. With each step, the air grows heavier, thicker with something unseen but deeply felt. The scent of dust and time fills her nostrils, and the faint hum of distant voices trickles through the walls, too muffled to understand.

She reaches the bottom to find a hallway stretching before her, lined with old, abandoned train cars. The paint is peeling, the windows clouded with grime. But it isn’t just neglect this place has been forgotten. Erased.

A single light flickers at the far end, casting eerie shadows along the walls. She steps forward cautiously, her fingers grazing the cool metal of the train cars as she passes.

Then, a voice.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

She freezes, her breath catching. The voice is close too close.

Turning sharply, she finds herself face to face with the man from before. The one who had given her the ticket. But this time, his expression is grim, his posture rigid.

“You,” she whispers. “Who are you? What is this place?”

His jaw tightens. “A mistake,” he says, voice laced with something that sounds like regret. “You weren’t supposed to come back.”

“Back?” She steps forward, confusion and frustration mounting. “I don’t understand. What’s happening to me?”

The man exhales sharply, glancing at the train cars. “Memories have a way of slipping through the cracks,” he murmurs. “Yours… were never meant to resurface.”

Her heart stutters. “What do you mean?”

He hesitates. Then, with a sigh, he gestures toward one of the train cars. “If you really want to know, you have to see for yourself.”

Dread coils in her stomach, but she steps forward, gripping the cold handle of the train door. With a groan, it slides open.

Inside, the air is thick with dust and something else—something deeper, older. The seats are torn, the floor littered with remnants of forgotten lives. But it isn’t the decay that makes her blood run cold.

It’s the photographs.

Taped to the walls, scattered across the seats. Dozens of them. People she doesn’t recognize. People who, according to the dates scribbled beneath their faces, disappeared on the same date.

Her fingers tremble as she reaches for one. A young woman, her eyes wide with something that looks like fear. The name beneath it is smudged, but the date is clear.

The same date as her missing poster.

Her pulse pounds. “What is this?” she demands, turning to the man.

His gaze darkens. “The ones who board the train,” he says quietly. “They don’t come back.”

Her breath shudders as she backs away from the wall of missing faces. The train car suddenly feels too small, too suffocating. The man watches her carefully, his expression unreadable.

“If they don’t come back,” she whispers, “then why am I here?”

His eyes flicker with something she can’t name. “Because,” he says slowly, “you were different.”

She swallows hard. “Different how?”

He steps closer, lowering his voice. “You weren’t supposed to be on that train. You weren’t meant to be taken.”

The words send a chill through her. “Then why was I?”

The man hesitates. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he says, “Because someone wanted you to remember.”

A rush of dizziness washes over her, fragments of half-formed memories clawing at the edges of her mind. A name lingers just beyond reach, a whisper in the void.

And then—

A sound. A low, echoing hum from deeper within the abandoned station. The ground beneath her trembles.

The man stiffens. “They know you’re here.”

Before she can ask what he means, the lights flicker wildly, plunging them into momentary darkness. When they return, the hallway beyond the train car is no longer empty.

Figures stand in the distance, watching.

They are faceless, shadows with only the hint of features. Their presence hums against her skin, sending a sharp wave of nausea through her.

The man grabs her wrist. “We have to go. Now.”

She doesn’t resist as he pulls her through the train car, out into the hallway. The figures don’t move, but she can feel them watching, waiting.

Waiting for what?

The man doesn’t slow. “You need to remember,” he says urgently. “It’s the only way out.”

The words ring in her ears as they reach another staircase, leading even deeper underground. The air grows colder, heavier.

She glances over her shoulder. The figures remain still, but the shadows around them pulse, shifting closer inch by inch.

A chill grips her heart. She isn’t sure if she wants to remember anymore.

But she may not have a choice, will she?.

As she was running ahead the only thing which was on her mind was, was she really dead? if she was then why she is again back in the exact same place she was killed before. but if as the man before her said, she was mistakenly killed because she board that train then why everyone is after her and why can't she remember anything on her own?

what's the reason? what's the cause of the accident? her death? those unknown people like spirit after her? why saving her if she also belong to one of them? why everyone says she shouldn't be here? was the train cursed? who is the reason behind all of this. And most importantly why she is running instead of facing it and knowing the real answer?

As they reached deep inside the hallway she felt the grip in her hand loosing up and before she can say anything she found herself alone in the new unfamiliar place.

The lights in the underground passage flickered casting long shadows that danced along the cracked walls, as she looked through she saw a photo.

Her hands trembled as she held the photograph—the same girl, the same face, her own. But it wasn’t just a photo. There was writing on the back now, fresh ink that hadn’t been there before.

"Find the one who remembers. Carriage 3. Midnight."

Her heartbeat slowed as if trying to process each word with enough care to not shatter her entirely. She was being led again, guided by invisible strings she couldn’t control. and she follows it though knowing its controlling her. This wasn’t a coincidence. Someone was orchestrating everything. The dreams. The man. The woman. The poster. The train. ticket, key. And now this photo.

She glanced at the time. 11:42 PM.

Her legs moved before her thoughts could catch up, carrying her down the platform of the twisted station once again. The fog coiled around her ankles like vines trying to pull her back, but she kept moving forward. The station seemed darker than before, as if the world was turning off its lights one by one.

Then, she heard it. A faint screech in the distance the ghostly train.

It arrived with no headlights, no warning, just a hiss of steam and the groan of time itself being torn apart.

She stepped aboard.

Carriage 3 was near the center. Her breath was shallow as she passed the first two carriages. Faces behind the fogged-up windows blurred as she walked past faces that looked familiar in a way that scared her more than comforted her. A child she swore she’d seen in her dreams. A woman with a tear sliding down a pale cheek. A man holding a watch, his eyes completely white.

She reached Carriage 3. The door creaked open on its own.

The carriage was mostly empty, except for one figure sitting near the back, staring out the window as though it showed something other than darkness.

She approached slowly.

"Are you the one who remembers?" she asked, her voice cracking.

The figure didn’t move. Then, slowly, he turned his head.

It was a boy no older than seventeen with deep, unreadable eyes and a tired expression that made him look far older. He studied her for a moment, then nodded slowly.

"You’re late," he said, the same words the woman had once whispered.

"You know me?"

"I used to," he murmured. "Before everything was rewritten."

She sat across from him, gripping the photograph tightly. "Rewritten? What do you mean?"

He exhaled, as if he had been waiting a long time to tell someone. "This train… it doesn’t take people places. It takes time back. Loops it. And you… you’ve ridden this train before. More than once. You were searching. And every time you got close to the truth, something reset you."

She swallowed hard. "So I’ve… done this before?"

"Yes. And each time, you lose more of yourself. Your memories, your name, your reality. But I remembered. I kept a piece of you in every loop, hoping one day you’d find me again before it was too late."

She stared at him. "Why me?"

He looked directly into her eyes, pain etched across his face. "Because this whole loop started with you."

The train jolted violently, the lights dying once again. She grabbed the edge of the seat as the walls shook. A deafening scream echoed through the carriage—not hers, not his, but someone else’s.

Then silence.

The boy stood. "We’re close now. The conductor’s compartment. You have to see it."

She followed him, heart pounding, nerves frayed.

They reached the locked door at the very front of the train.

He turned to her. "You still have the key?"

She opened her palm.

The cold metal key shimmered faintly in the dim light.

"It only works when you remember why you took it," he whispered.

She closed her eyes.

A flash.

Rain.

A scream.

A woman bleeding.

A child’s cry.

The key falling.

she snap out and opened her eyes,

She gasped and thrust the key into the lock. It clicked.

The door creaked open.

Inside was not a compartment, but a room filled with clocks. Hundreds of clocks ticking in strange harmony. And at the center, a man sat in an old chair, his face hidden behind a conductor’s hat and an aged mask.

"You weren’t supposed to come this far," the man said in a voice that echoed from somewhere beyond time.

She stepped forward. "Who are you?"

"You knew me once," he replied. "You made a deal. A wish to forget pain. And I granted it. But forgetting comes at a price. The loops are your punishment. And now… you’re remembering."

The boy stood beside her. "Break the loop. Show her the truth."

The conductor slowly removed his mask.

And she screamed.

It was her own face.

Older. Hollow. Broken.

"You wanted to forget yourself," the conductor said. "And you did."

The walls of the train began to dissolve, the clocks melting, the world tilting.

The boy reached for her hand. "You still have time. You can still wake up."

"But what if I don’t want to remember?" she whispered, tears falling.

"Then you’ll keep riding."

She looked at the key in her hand. It was burning now. Glowing.

She took one last look at her future her forgotten self and then turned away.

She ran.

Toward the back of the train. Toward the door that had brought her here.

And as she leapt out

Everything exploded in light.

Light. Blinding. Overwhelming.

Then black.

Her senses slowly returned, like fragments of a shattered mirror being pieced back together. She gasped, her lungs burning like she hadn’t breathed in years. Her eyes fluttered open.

She wasn’t on the train anymore.

She was lying on a cold, cracked floor beneath a ceiling fan that spun lazily, creaking with every turn. The room smelled of old dust and rain-drenched memories. A faint beam of sunlight filtered in through the broken blinds of a window, slicing through the shadows.

She sat up abruptly, heart pounding. Her clothes were damp. Her head ached. Her fingers dug into the dusty ground for support and there it was. The photo. Still in her grip.

And the key. Cold now. Silent.

Where was she?

She pushed herself up and looked around. The room looked like a forgotten waiting lounge, its faded walls lined with wooden benches and vintage posters. One poster caught her attention.

“11:45 Express: A Journey Beyond Time.”

There was no logo. No station name. Just that line.

She moved to the door cautiously and stepped outside.

The world looked… real. But different. The buildings across the street were familiar but older, like they belonged to another decade. The people moved slowly, shadows of purpose etched into their expressions. No one noticed her. No one even glanced her way.

She walked aimlessly, drawn forward by something she didn’t understand. Her reflection in the shop window startled her—it looked like her, but not quite. Her eyes were darker, haunted. She looked older. Not in years, but in experience.

Then she saw it again.

The poster.

Pinned onto a streetlamp, fluttering in the breeze.

Missing: 'Bora Roselynn' Last seen boarding the 11:45 train.

Fresh ink. Clear image.

Her breath caught. She tore it down.

"You made it back," a voice said behind her.

She turned. It was the same boy from Carriage 3.

But how? This wasn’t the train. This was—

"A memory," he said, answering before she could ask. "This is what’s left of the world you forgot. The real one. Before the loop."

She blinked. "I don’t understand. I escaped."

"You escaped the train," he said. "But the loop? That’s deeper. It’s wrapped around your soul like thread. This world isn’t entirely real it’s the bridge. Between waking and returning."

"Then how do I truly wake up?"

He looked down. "You have to remember the moment you chose to forget. The original moment."

A sharp pain pierced her temple. A sound. Screeching tires. Rain. Blood on her hands.

"No," she gasped. "I don’t want to—"

"You have to."

She collapsed to her knees, clutching her head as visions overwhelmed her.

A night. Running through the rain. Someone calling her name.

A child.

A scream.

A car skidding.

And then her, sitting in the train, asking to forget. To erase the grief that hollowed her out.

Tears flooded her eyes. "It was.. it was my fault… wasn’t it?"

I... i cause it.. I... i am the reason right?

The boy knelt beside her. "Not your fault. But your pain. And you weren’t ready to face it. So the train came to you. Offered you loops instead of healing."

Her hands shook. The key burned in her pocket again.

"I don’t want to ride anymore," she whispered. "I want to go back. To face it. Even if it breaks me."

The boy nodded. "Then you know what to do."

She closed her eyes.

Tightened her grip on the key.

And turned it in the invisible lock inside her mind.

The world split. like the negative energy destroying and New hope of life coming out of it finally.

her body finally feels free' Free from the weight she has been carrying herself inside her till now.

The wind roared.

And she woke up screaming—

On a hospital bed.

A nurse rushed in, calling for a doctor.

She gasped, looking around wildly. Machines beeped. Her arm was hooked to IV drips. A calendar on the wall read a date that felt too recent. Too… now.

Doctors flooded in.

"She’s awake," one said.

Someone entered the room.

A man. Familiar.

Her father.

He looked older. Tired. But his eyes lit up when he saw her.

"You’re back," he choked, holding her hand.

She whispered, voice raspy, "The train…?"

"You were in a coma for weeks," he said. "After the accident. You were gone. We thought we lost you."

The accident. The child. The scream.

Her sister.

Tears flooded her eyes. "I remember… I remember everything." She chocked in her own tears

And for the first time, truly, she was Awake and felt free from everything.

The room felt silent, the sterile scent of antiseptic burned her nose, she feel the feeling of being in reality this time. The beeping of monitors, the soft hum of machinery, and the whisper of curtains shifting nearby filled her ears like music from another world. white walls around her, pale ceiling, and the tender warmth of sunlight trickling through blinds.

She was back.

But back from where?

Her fingers twitched, and she realized something was still clutched in her hand. Her eyes dropped slowly. The key.

The same key from her dreams. Her visions. The train. The screams. The shadows. Everything.

It was no longer cold and metallic. It felt… warm. Almost alive. But real undeniably real.

Doctors went out in a blur. Her father was still inside with her in silent, tears stain dried in his face. he told her she had been in a coma for two months. That she had been found unconscious at an old, abandoned train station after being reported missing for days.

No one knew why she had gone there. There were no security cameras. No witnesses. Only her lying there with a rusted key in her palm and a train ticket dated decades ago.

The train ticket was gone now, replaced with mystery. But the key remained.