It was a rainy night in Kolkata. The clock had just crossed 11 PM. The streets were nearly empty, covered with reflections of yellow streetlights on wet roads.
Seventeen-year-old Riyan was returning home after coaching class. His phone battery was only 2%, and because of the heavy rain, he rushed into the metro station without thinking much.
The station looked strangely quiet.
Usually, even at night, a few people remained around the ticket counters or tea stalls. But tonight, the whole place felt abandoned. The air was cold, and the sound of rain echoed through the empty halls.
Suddenly, the announcement speaker cracked with static.
"Last train arriving on platform number two…"
Riyan quickly walked toward the platform.
From far away, he noticed something unusual. A metro train was approaching slowly, but it didn't look normal. Its body was old and grey, with faded paint. The headlights flickered strangely, and there was no route number displayed in front.
The train stopped with a loud metallic sound.
The doors opened.
Inside, only three passengers were sitting.
An old man near the window.
A schoolgirl in uniform.
And a boy wearing a black hoodie with his face hidden.
Riyan hesitated for a moment, but because it was the last train, he entered anyway.
The doors closed immediately.
The train started moving.
At first, everything seemed normal. But after a few minutes, Riyan noticed something strange.
There were no station announcements.
No network on his phone.
And the train wasn't stopping anywhere.
He looked outside the window. Only darkness rushed past. Occasionally, a dim red light flashed across the tunnel walls.
Trying to stay calm, he walked toward the old man.
"Excuse me, uncle… which station is this train going to?"
The old man slowly raised his head.
His eyes looked pale and lifeless.
In a low voice he replied,
"People who board the wrong train rarely return."
A chill ran down Riyan's spine.
He laughed nervously, thinking it was a joke.
But then the schoolgirl spoke softly.
"You're new here… aren't you?"
Riyan looked confused.
"What do you mean?"
The girl stared down at her hands.
"This train crashed five years ago."
Riyan froze.
"What?!"
"Nobody survived."
The lights inside the compartment suddenly flickered.
For a split second, Riyan saw something terrifying outside the window — broken tunnel walls and twisted metal, like the remains of a destroyed train.
His breathing became heavy.
"No… this can't be real."
He quickly rushed toward the emergency button and pressed it repeatedly.
Nothing happened.
The train kept moving faster.
Then the boy in the black hoodie slowly stood up.
His face was still hidden in darkness.
Step by step, he walked toward Riyan.
"You can still leave," he whispered.
Riyan swallowed nervously.
"How?"
The boy tilted his head slightly.
"But you must follow one rule."
"What rule?"
"Never look back."
Suddenly—
SCREEECH!
The train stopped violently.
The doors opened.
Outside was an unknown station covered in darkness. The station name board was broken, hanging sideways. The lights flickered on and off.
Riyan stepped outside carefully.
The moment he left the train, the cold air hit his face like ice.
Behind him, the boy's voice echoed one last time—
"Don't look back…"
Riyan started walking through the empty station.
His heartbeat grew louder with every step.
Drip…
Drip…
Drip…
Water fell from the ceiling.
The exit stairs appeared ahead.
He could almost see the road outside.
Then suddenly—
He heard footsteps behind him.
Slow.
Heavy.
Getting closer.
He tried to ignore them.
But the sound kept coming.
Step…
Step…
Step…
His fear became unbearable.
Finally, he turned around.
And instantly—
Everything went black.
The next morning, newspapers reported that a college student named Riyan had been found unconscious near an abandoned underground tunnel outside the city.
When police questioned him, he kept repeating only one sentence:
"The last metro still runs at night…"
After that incident, strange rumors spread online.
People claimed that sometimes, during heavy rain, an old grey metro appears at empty stations after 11 PM.
No route number.
No driver visible.
And only three passengers inside.
Many called it fake.
Others believed the city was hiding something.
But even today, metro workers avoid talking about Platform Number Two after midnight.
Because according to them…
Sometimes the announcement still plays on its own.
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