Story 905: The Ghoul Train

The whistle of a distant train cut through the still night air. Mira and Draven stood frozen on the rusted tracks, the fog swirling at their feet. The moon hung full and swollen above them, casting an eerie glow over the landscape.

Draven exhaled, gripping his shotgun tighter. “Tell me I’m hallucinating.”

Mira shook her head. “I wish you were.”

The train wasn’t supposed to exist anymore—not in this world of ruin and undeath. Yet, there it was, its iron behemoth form emerging from the mist, its headlights flickering like dying embers. The wheels groaned against the tracks as it slowed, coming to a haunting halt before them.

The doors slid open with a metallic hiss. A cold wind rushed out, carrying the scent of decay. Then came the voice—low, hollow, filled with something ancient.

“All aboard.”

Mira swallowed hard. “We shouldn’t get on.”

Draven glanced at her. “And staying here is better?”