The silence in the car was deafening as Alex sped down the deserted road. The fog still clung to everything outside, turning the world into a shapeless void. None of them spoke, and the only sound was the rumble of the car's engine. Tara sat curled in the back seat, trembling violently under a blanket Alex had thrown over her. Jamie kept glancing out the passenger window, his foot tapping anxiously.
Alex gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. "What the hell was that?" he muttered, breaking the silence. His voice was tight, strained. "That train. Those faces. What the hell did we just see?"
Jamie exhaled shakily. "I... I don't know. But I'm telling you, we were not supposed to be there. I told you this was a bad idea. We should've just stuck to abandoned malls and asylums, man."
"You think I don't know that now?" Alex snapped, glaring at Jamie for half a second before turning his eyes back to the road. "That wasn't just some urban legend. That was real. Whatever the hell *it* was—it was real."
Jamie didn't respond. He couldn't. His thoughts were spiraling, replaying the train's arrival, the faces in the windows, and—most haunting of all—the Lady in White. He swore she had looked directly at him, her hollow eyes boring into his soul. He shuddered and tried to push the memory away.
In the back seat, Tara whimpered softly. She hadn't spoken since they'd left the station, not even to explain what had happened to her. Her eyes had locked onto the Lady in White, and something had changed in her. Alex had tried to talk to her, to snap her out of it, but it was like she hadn't even heard him. She just stared blankly ahead, muttering incoherent words under her breath.
Jamie turned to look at her, his stomach twisting. "Is she... okay? What the hell is wrong with her?"
Alex's jaw clenched. "She just needs time to snap out of it. She'll be fine." He didn't sound convinced.
---
### **One Week Later**
The video went live two days after their trip to Ravenswood. As expected, it went viral almost immediately. The footage of the station, the haunting fog, and the eerie arrival of the ghostly train had viewers hooked. People flooded the comments with theories and praise:
"This is the creepiest thing you guys have ever done. 10/10 chills."
"That train, though... is this real? Because it looks real as hell."
"Did anyone else see the faces in the windows? Holy crap!"
But there were also darker comments:
"Something feels wrong about this video. Where are you guys?"
"Why haven't they posted anything since this?"
"If this is real, you should've NEVER gone there."
But Alex, Tara, and Jamie weren't basking in their newfound fame. In fact, they hadn't checked their channel or their messages since the video went live. Something was wrong—terribly, horribly wrong.
---
Alex
Alex sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the camera in his hands. He hadn't touched it since that night. He couldn't bring himself to review the raw footage again. It was too much. The train, the faces, the *Lady in White*—it all felt burned into his memory, playing on a loop every time he closed his eyes.
His apartment was dark, the blinds drawn tight. He hadn't turned on the lights in days. He didn't feel safe anymore. Every night, he heard strange sounds outside his window: faint footsteps, the whistle of a distant train, and the eerie *tap-tap-tap* of fingernails against the glass. But when he looked, there was nothing there. Only darkness.
He hadn't been able to sleep. Whenever he drifted off, he dreamed of the station. He dreamed of the train slowing to a stop, the doors creaking open. And always, without fail, the Lady in White would step off the train and reach for him.
Alex buried his face in his hands, his breathing ragged. "It's just in my head," he whispered to himself. "It's not real. It's not real."
A soft knock at the door made him jump. He froze, his heart hammering in his chest. Slowly, he stood and crept toward the door, peering through the peephole.
No one was there. But just as he turned to walk away, he heard it: *tap-tap-tap*. Not at the door. At his window.
Jamie
Jamie hadn't left his room in days. The curtains were drawn, and his laptop sat untouched on his desk. He didn't care about the channel anymore. He didn't care about anything except staying safe. But even in his self-imposed isolation, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched.
At first, it was just a hunch—a strange prickling sensation at the back of his neck. But then the nightmares began. Every night, he dreamed of the train and the faces in the windows. They stared at him, their mouths moving silently as if trying to tell him something. And then there was the Lady in White. She always appeared at the edge of his vision, her hollow eyes watching him from the darkness.
The worst part was the smell. It started faint, just a subtle metallic tang in the air, but it grew stronger every day. Now, his entire room reeked of blood and rust. No matter how many times he cleaned or aired it out, the smell wouldn't go away.
He tried to convince himself it was nothing. "It's just my imagination," he muttered. "It's just stress. That's all." But deep down, he knew the truth: something had followed them home.
---
Tara
Tara's condition had worsened. She barely ate, barely spoke. Her once vibrant energy was gone, replaced by a vacant, hollow stare. She spent most of her time sitting by her bedroom window, staring out at nothing. Her lips moved silently, forming words no one could hear.
Her neighbours noticed the change. They heard her muttering through the walls late at night, her voice rising and falling in a strange, almost melodic cadence. And then there was the laughter. Soft, high-pitched, and utterly chilling. It didn't sound like Tara at all.
One night, a neighbour knocked on her door to check on her. There was no answer. But as they turned to leave, they heard it: *tap-tap-tap* on the window, even though they were on the third floor.
It was the smell that finally drew attention to the trio. A week after the Ravenswood video went live, the neighbours complained of a horrid stench coming from their shared house. It was so strong, they could smell it from the street. When no one answered the door, the landlord called the police.
Two officers arrived and forced their way inside. The smell hit them like a wall, thick and suffocating. It was the unmistakable stench of rotting flesh.
The trail of blood started in the hallway, smeared across the floor in uneven streaks. It led to the living room, where the officers found them: Alex, Tara, and Jamie, sitting side by side on the couch. Their bodies were slumped, their clothes soaked in dried blood. And their heads were missing.
The blood trails led back down the hall, to each of their bedrooms. But the heads were nowhere to be found.
Meanwhile at Ravenswood Station
The fog rolled in thick and heavy as the train pulled into the station. The doors creaked open, and inside the flickering yellow light of the passenger car, three new faces stared out from the windows.
Alex.
Tara.
Jamie.
Their eyes were wide and lifeless, their mouths moving silently. The train didn't stop for long. It never did.
As it rolled away, the faint *tip-tap-tip* of fingernails on glass echoed through the station, lost in the mist.
Somewhere in the distance, a whistle blew.