I fell into the uncomfortable patterned train seat, dropping my heavy briefcase beside me like a crushing burden finally lifted. Today had been tough, an ever-mental strain with never-ending calls, negotiations, and meeting after meeting. It felt like the day would never end, so when that final meeting came to a close, I couldn’t help but feel a sigh of relief until I remembered that I had to see Mum. I had put it off for too long.

The fog pressed thick against the windows, just as it had before, not that I’d want to see the countryside of Yorkshire. After thirty years of living here, I knew every field looked the same, with the odd flock of sheep if you were lucky. When the train began to move, I felt my body relax back into the chair. It’s gentle vibration singing sweet lullabies to my heavy eyes. I just need to stay awake a little longer.

I jolted awake in a panicked sweat, clutching my briefcase like a lifeline. The train had stopped, but I didn’t hear the usual announcement. In fact, the entire train cart had seemed eerily silent; there was always someone talking too loudly on the phone or fiddling with packets of food, but today there was nothing. Each passenger around me just seemed to be staring blankly into the mist, unmoving.

Through the thick fog, I made out the station sign – barely. ‘Whitegrave Halt’. My stop. I jumped up and shifted through the narrow walkway, passing each passenger who didn’t even give a glance at the one person moving to get off the train, like they usually would. I had always hated it when people stared at me while I left, but this somehow felt worse.

I breathed in the damp, foggy air as my feet landed on the concrete station floor, and an air of uneasiness washed over me. It felt as though I was being watched, as though something was behind me. Waiting to see what I would do.

I jumped away from the train as the doors closed, its loud noise echoing in the station and causing my heart to beat erratically in my chest. I watched it closely as it slowly moved away and into the fog until it could only be heard in the far distance.

Come on, Daniel, don’t be an idiot. I thought to myself as I tried to push away the unnerving feelings that were growing deep inside me.

My body convulsed in a deep shiver as though it was shaking away the creepy train, but that feeling of dread never left me. I turned toward the station, ready to just leave. I had promised Mum I would finally come visit her, and that was what I was going to do. I’d rather spend the weekend listening to her nag than spend another moment in this place.

Slowly, I moved through the echoing station, my footsteps the only sound of life. The station was deserted. No lights. No staff. It hadn’t been that late when I left work, surely there should have been someone around. I pulled out my phone to see if I could call Mum and let her know I was on my way to her, but there was no signal or even Wi-Fi. This wasn’t the underground; I should surely be getting something.

I picked up my pace heading towards what I thought was the exit, but everything seemed different, and every turn I took seemed to take me deeper into the dark station. It had been about eight months since I had last set foot in this station. I couldn’t imagine it would have changed this much this soon.

After walking around for what felt like hours, I finally stopped when I came across a rundown cottage with boarded windows that stood proudly where the shops used to be. That wasn’t there before.

In eight months, they had managed to remove all the shops and fast-food chains, build a random cottage and abandon it. Something didn’t feel right; none of this felt possible. Perhaps I had got off at the wrong station.

A glimmer of hope shone through the cracks of the boards as I noticed a flickering light within. Perhaps there would be someone who could help point me in the right direction.

I approached the door and gently knocked. I anxiously gripped the handle of my briefcase until my knuckles turned white, using it for emotional support as I waited for someone to answer. The old door creaked open, and an elderly man in uniform peered around. His figure was thin, his clothes hanging from his body as though they were three sizes too big, and his thin hair was almost white.

“Hello there,” he said, his voice straining as though he hadn't spoken in a while.

“Uh, hi,” I said quietly, then coughed to clear my throat and put on my most polite voice. “Sorry, I was wondering if you could help me. I’m trying to get to Whitegrave Halt, but I seem to be all turned around.”

He smiled at me with gentle pity and gestured for me to come in, “Come in, let's see if we can help you get somewhere.”

Going against the voice in my head screaming at me to run, I followed him in, my feet moving slowly as though I had weights tied around my ankles. A small dining room/kitchen was the first room to greet us, its inside barely lit by a single candle in the centre of the old wooden table. The old man gestured for me to sit as he moved over to an old kettle and placed it onto a burner stove.

“I’m Mr Trigg,” he said as he moved to take the seat across from me.

“Oh, um, nice to meet you, Mr Trigg, I’m Daniel,” I replied, feeling my face flush a little. I had never felt so uncomfortable in my life, and all this man was doing was offering me his hospitality. Why did I feel so scared?

“What brings you here, Daniel?”

“I’m on my way to my mum's,” I said, planning on leaving it there, but Mr Trigg stared blankly at me. He stared for an uncomfortable amount of time until I felt as though I had to fill the silence. “I, er, haven’t seen her in months, so I promised I’d come visit for the weekend after I had finished work.”

Mr Trigg nodded, satisfied with my answer, “Funny how they still come back, the ones with regret.”

“Excuse me?” Something deep in the pit of my stomach began to twist as he looked at me. His eyes were full of an emotion I couldn’t understand. Pity? Sorrow? Just plain sadness? Either way, it wasn’t getting me home. “Do you think you could help me get to Whitegrave Halt?”

He nodded then slowly stood, turning towards the kettle just before it began to whistle in perfect time. He brought out two cups and began making some tea. I quickly scanned the room, hoping to see a map of some kind, but stopped when I saw some newspaper clippings stuck to the wall. A picture of the train I had just been on was on it in black and white with the title ‘crash near Whitegrave station’.

I stood up and drifted toward the newspaper clippings, something about them pulling at me like a thread I couldn’t stop tugging. A black and white image of that same train, now derailed – a mess of crumpled metal, rubble and fire surrounding it.

There, near the centre of the chaos, a half-buried briefcase. It looked just like mine. My ears began to ring, and a cold sweat covered my body. It felt so familiar.

No, it couldn’t be mine. I thought to myself as I glanced down at my trembling hand gripping the briefcase handle. It’s not possible… is it?

“It’s strange… how often faces come back around,” Mr Trigg said from directly behind me. I jumped and spun to face him, taking a step back as my heart hammered within my chest so loudly, I was certain even this old man could hear it. “Not many people come here twice, but you – I thought I’d seen your face again. You just can’t seem to let go.”

“I, I don’t understand. I just got off that train. I haven’t been here in months,” I said, my tongue feeling heavy in my mouth. Slowly, I backed away from Mr Trigg and towards the door.

He gave me that look of pity again, as though I were a neglected puppy terrified of human interaction. My head throbbed as the blood in my veins pulsed with every painful beat of my heart. I didn’t understand. What did he mean he had seen my face before? I’d never seen him before.

I hit the door and fumbled for the handle, too terrified to take my eyes off of Mr Trigg as he edged closer. I needed to get out – to get away – I needed to get to mum.

Mr Trigg moved closer, giving me a large, toothy smile and fiddled with the knife laid out on the table. “It’s okay to be frightened, Daniel.”

I fell backwards through the door and ran through the station, my breath heavy with each step as I moved as far away as I could from that man. I stopped at the track, now rusted and broken. Had it always looked that rough?

In the distance, through the fog, the sound of the train echoed once more. My head flashed with memories I didn’t recognise. Screams of terror and pain flashed in my mind. I gasped as I came back to reality. What was happening to me?

“Pull yourself together, Danial,” I said to myself, willing myself to think of what to do next.

The train began its approach. It was almost identical to the train I had been on before, but it seemed as though it had aged. It was rusted and dulled as though the weather and time had attacked all at once. People were in the window, their faces motionless as they stared out, unmoving as they had been before. I scanned the windows, and then my heart stopped. Looking out of the window, unemotive and unmoving, was me. I could see myself sitting on the train, staring out into the never-ending fog.

How? How was I there?

A hand landed on my shoulder, jolting me away from the horrific reflection of myself. I turned to see Mr Trigg standing behind me, his eyes still filled with that gentle pity. “It’s alright, lad. You don’t have to run anymore. I’m sure your mother forgives you.”

“Am I dead?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

He didn’t answer. He moved closer, his arm stretched out as though he was going to touch me. I stumbled backwards through the train doors. I hadn’t realised how close I’d been. I didn’t want to be here – I had to get to Mum’s.

But the doors slid closed with a final hiss.

Outside, Mr Trigg stood motionless in the fog, one hand lifted in a slow, sorrowful wave. I didn’t wave back. I just watched as he disappeared, swallowed by the mist like everything else.

The train lurched forward. The wheels shrieked softly, not like before, now more like a lullaby. I didn’t fight the sense of calm that slowly washed over me. The fog seeped into my mind, clouding my brain as much as it had outside. I didn’t want to forget; I couldn’t forget my promise to Mum.

I turned, moving sluggishly down the aisle as the train slowly came to a brief stop. The familiar feeling weighed down on me as though I had done this a thousand times before.

I fell into the uncomfortable patterned train seat, dropping my heavy briefcase beside me like a crushing burden finally lifted. Today had been tough.

The Last Train to Whitegrave