Story 990: The Black Hollow Depot

Ash rained like snow, falling in thick, suffocating drifts over the broken tracks of Black Hollow Depot. The ruins moaned with the memory of arrivals that never left. Rusted trains, overgrown with thorned vines and slick with blood, loomed like iron coffins in the mist.

Draven led the group down the shattered platform, revolver drawn, every sense wired. The Forsaken Girl walked beside him, her steps echoing like prophecy. Behind them, Mira gripped the cursed book—its flame dimmed, its cover blistered like flesh.

They passed a rotting conductor, his jaw unhinged, whispering in tongues no one recognized. Elias muttered, “This place... it’s not haunted. It is the haunting.”

Suddenly, a sharp clang rang out. A rail spike rolled across the floor. Zara froze. “Something’s here.”

From the shadows of an overturned engine, a wall of corpses stood—once passengers, now puppets. Strings of black sinew held them up like marionettes. In front of them, a grotesque figure stepped forward.