Everybody has a story about The Ghost Train. They’ve heard the whistle of the train on a lonely set of tracks, or felt the rush of wind from a passing car. Their cousin saw it one time, in an abandoned subway station while he was geocaching.
I’ve been following the stories for years. I search for clues, and separate the reliable accounts from the urban legends. Tonight, I descend the station steps and see it waiting on the platform. Waiting for me. I approach it cautiously, and it opens its doors.
I board, overjoyed that I can finally return home.