The Last Stop

Grace awoke to the rhythmic clatter of steel wheels against tracks. The train rocked softly, inducing a strange sense of disorientation in her. It was like a thick fog, enveloping her senses and leaving her feeling lost and helpless. She blinked repeatedly, attempting to align herself as the dim glow of overhead lights cast elongated shadows across the aisle. The shadows revealed rows of empty seats stretching endlessly in both directions, enhancing her feeling of isolation.

"I'm on a train; how did I get here?" Grace whispered.

She sat up straight and looked around. Outside the window, darkness pressed against the glass, impenetrable, as if the train hurtled through an abyss rather than a landscape. Her fingers gripped the frayed leather of the armrest, attempting to perceive her surroundings.

A voice crackled through unseen speakers. "Next stop: Oakmere Junction. Please prepare to disembark if this is your destination."

The automated announcement sent a ripple of unease down her spine. The name meant nothing to her, yet an odd sensation curled in her stomach, like a memory she couldn't quite grasp. She turned her head to search for another passenger, but the commuter train was eerily deserted, amplifying her discomfort.

Suddenly, a man passed through the nearby railcar, and to her surprise, he looked straight at her. He wore a crisp conductor's uniform, his silver buttons gleaming dully under the flickering lights. His sharp, angular face and dark eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her heart race. He stopped short of her row, tilting his head slightly as if contemplating something profound about her presence.

"You should prepare for your stop, Miss Grace."

Her heart jolted. "How do you know my name?"

The conductor smiled, but there was something unreadable in his expression. "That's not the question you should be asking."

She swallowed hard. "Then what should I be asking?"

"Where do you want to go?"

She opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out. She didn't know. Home? But where was home? The thought sent a wave of icy panic through her. Her mind felt like a book with missing pages. Memories ripped from their binding.

The train slowed. A dimly lit platform emerged from the darkness, its lone lamppost flickering weakly. A wooden sign, barely legible, read Oakmere Junction. She had never heard of this place, yet it seemed to hold a key within her memories.

"Is this my stop?" she asked, her voice small.

The conductor's expression remained unreadable. "That depends. Do you belong to the past or the future?"

She frowned. "What does that mean?"

The doors hissed open, and a gust of cold air rushed in. Grace felt a strange compulsion pull at her, urging her to step forward. But fear anchored her in place. She sensed something was wrong; the area and platform all felt unfamiliar.

She shook her head. "I'm not getting off." Her voice was firm, but a shiver ran down her spine as she spoke. The words felt heavier than she expected as if they carried more weight than a simple refusal. For a moment, she thought she saw the conductor's expression flicker—approval? Pity? She couldn't tell. The doors remained open for a few lingering seconds, the cold air clawing at her skin, inviting her to change her mind. But she held her ground, gripping the armrest as if anchoring herself to the train's reality. She released a shaky breath only when the doors slid shut, uncertain if she had just saved herself.

The conductor gave a slow nod, his gaze almost approving. The train shuddered forward, disappearing into the black void beyond the station.

The conductor turned and walked toward the far end of the railcar. Silence stretched between them before Grace found her voice again. "Where does this train go?"

The conductor stopped but did not turn to look at Grace. He clasped his hands behind him. "Wherever the passenger decides."

She wanted to demand answers, but instinct told her she wouldn't get them on plain terms. What will happen if I stay on?"

The conductor's lips pressed into a thin line. "Eventually, everyone must choose."

She shifted her attention to the window, but no distant lights that looked like towns or cities were visible—only darkness. "And if I pick the wrong stop?"

His voice was gentle. "There are no wrong stops. Only different destinations."

Another announcement crackled overhead. "Next stop: Hollow's End."

A shiver ran through her. The name was unfamiliar, yet dread curled in her gut. She ran after the conductor, but he disappeared into the next railcar.

The train horn shrieked like a ghostly wail. As the train decelerated, my heart raced faster.

Outside, Hollow's End station was barely more than an old wooden platform; there was no ticket booth or station house. Lost in the dense mist, a slender figure stood beneath the lamplight—a woman in a dark dress, her head bowed. There was something familiar about her: the red curly hair and the Celtic symbol on her left arm. Grace gasped as she suddenly recognized the woman.

Grace's legs shook, unsure if she could reach the doors; somehow, she did. The doors slid open with a soft whoosh, revealing the chilly night beyond. The woman in the dark dress lifted her head, her face soft with longing.

"Grace," she whispered, reaching out a hand. Her mother, with her gentle smile and comforting touch, was a sight for sore eyes. She was the anchor of Grace's life, the one who had always been there for her.

Tears burned behind Grace's eyes. "Mom?" The emotional encounter with her mother was like a sudden burst of warmth in a cold, unfamiliar world.

Tears rained down Grace's cheeks as she stood on the last boarding step.

Something held her back—an invisible weight in her chest. The voice of reason warned her. She looked into her mother's eyes, searching, but something was wrong. The features were the same, the voice familiar, but there was a depthless quality as if she were looking at a reflection instead of the real thing.

She paused, yet she longed to be held by her mom again. It had been a year since she had felt her embrace.

Her mom's expression faltered. "It's time to come home, sweetheart. You don't belong here. You belong with me."

The words echoed in her mind, but something felt off about them. Mom never called her "sweetheart." Grace's breath caught in her throat as a realization struck her: if she had stepped off this train, she might have never left that platform.

Grace hurried back up the stairs just as the doors started closing.

Her mother's eyes widened as she reached out, imploring Grace to stay. "Grace—wait!"

A surge of anguish tore through her as the train lurched forward, pulling away from Hollow's End. She sank in front of the doors, sobbing and her body trembling.

The time slipped away in a whirl, like colourful leaves caught in a brisk autumn wind.

The overhead speaker crackled once more. "Next stop: Evermore."

Grace wiped the last tear from her cheek and lifted her head. The name sparked something deep in her chest—not fear, not longing, but recognition—a flicker of warmth, like the soothing memory from her childhood.

The train gradually came to a stop at the station. This station felt different—welcoming. Grace saw a platform bathed in golden light as she looked out the window. A man stood under the glow, but she couldn't see his face. Yet she knew who he was; she felt it deep in her soul.

The doors slid open, and Grace rushed to her feet.

She turned to look for the conductor for approval, but he never returned. Only the empty railcar remained, waiting for its next passenger.

The air seemed to thrum with expectation as she stepped forward, her pulse hammering in her ears. The man, bathed in golden light, beckoned like an old promise. It warmed her skin, yet the air behind her felt heavy, charged with something unseen. Grace drew a deep breath, closing her eyes as shadows danced around her, then stepped hesitantly onto the bottom boarding step, poised on the brink of a choice that would alter her destiny forever.