Chapter 5: Owl's End
The smile stayed on the conductor's face too long.
It wasn't warm. It wasn't kind. It was the smile of someone who knew something you didn't—and liked it that way.
Sarah sank into her seat, clutching the envelope like a lifeline. Her reflection in the dark train window looked pale, strained. Behind her, the suitcase rattled on its own as the train curved through unseen terrain.
Outside, fog thickened. Trees leaned in unnaturally close, their branches brushing the glass like skeletal fingers.
The intercom buzzed again, softer this time, as if it were whispering.
"Next stop... Owl's End."
A name that sent a chill crawling up her spine.
As the train pulled in, Sarah expected another ruined platform or ghostly shadow.
Instead, Owl's End was silent and untouched, as if time hadn't dared disturb it. A wide wooden platform stretched beside a quaint, old-fashioned town. Lanterns glowed in windows. Buildings stood intact. It was… peaceful.
Too peaceful.
She stepped out cautiously. The air was cold but dry. An owl hooted nearby.
A moment later, a child ran across the platform. Laughing.
Sarah froze. The girl looked familiar.
"Emily?" she called out.
The girl stopped at the edge of the platform, turned, and smiled.
But it wasn't her sister. Not exactly. It was Emily as a child—no older than eight. She waved once, then disappeared into a narrow alley between two shops.
Sarah chased her, heart pounding, calling out her name.
The alley led into the town—but something was wrong. The deeper she went, the more silent it became. The buildings were empty. The lanterns? Just empty shells. No heat. No light. No glass in the windows.
She found herself in front of an old schoolhouse. The doors were open.
Inside, chalk still clung to the blackboard:
"Class dismissed. Never to return."
A rustling sound made her spin around.
In the hallway, the child stood once more, holding something: a photograph.
Sarah approached slowly. The girl handed it to her.
It was a photo of Sarah—but much older. Wearing different clothes. Standing on the same platform at Owl's End.
A faint voice echoed through the empty classroom:
"You've been here before."
Suddenly, the schoolhouse groaned. The walls trembled.
She ran. Back down the alley. Back toward the train.
The platform was fading—splintering into mist.
She leapt through the door as it began to dissolve behind her.
Inside the train, no passengers remained.
Except one.
The man in the fedora.
He looked up at her and said, "Now do you see?"
Sarah swallowed. "See what?"
He reached into the suitcase and pulled out a single item: a return ticket.
It had her name on it.
But no departure date.