The dim yellow lights of the train cabin flickered violently just moments ago, casting brief shadows that danced like restless spirits along the narrow walls. But now, they shone steadily, as if nothing had ever happened—like the train itself was trying to pretend.
The rhythmic clatter of wheels against tracks, once a constant, comforting hum, had vanished into an eerie silence. The train was no longer moving. It stood still, unnervingly still, like time itself had been frozen.
Manan's footsteps echoed softly as he walked down the empty aisle, the sound unnervingly loud in the suffocating quiet. His face was pale, his expression a mixture of fear and confusion.
His wide eyes darted from side to side, scanning the rows of empty seats that should've been filled with passengers. Normally, this route was packed—commuters crammed shoulder to shoulder, lost in their own worlds. But now? It was like he was the last person alive.
What the hell is going on?
His breath quickened as he approached the door connecting the two cabins. His trembling hand reached out, hesitating for just a second before flipping open the transparent lid covering a red emergency button. The words beside it read:
"In case of emergency, press to open."
Manan's thumb hovered over the button before slamming down on it. A sharp beep echoed, and the door slid open with a mechanical hiss. Holding his breath, he stepped forward—only to find the next cabin was just as empty. Rows of vacant seats stretched out before him, lit under the same sterile yellow glow. The emptiness gnawed at his nerves, making him sweat despite the cold air.
His heart raced. This doesn't make sense.
There should be people here. Where did everyone go?
Refusing to let panic take over, Manan spun around and hurried to the front door of the cabin. His footsteps were quicker now, driven by growing desperation. He slammed the button again. The door slid open—and once more, nothing but emptiness. No conductor. No passengers. Just silence.
A chill crept up his spine, prickling the back of his neck.
"What the hell is happening?" he whispered to himself, his voice swallowed by the oppressive quiet.
Without wasting another second, he turned toward the exit door leading outside the train. His pace was almost a sprint now, driven by pure instinct—the need to escape.
"I have to get out of here. ASAP."
He jabbed the button beside the exit door. Nothing. The door didn't budge. He pressed it again, harder this time, his thumb turning white with pressure. Still nothing. Frustration flared in his chest as fear morphed into raw panic. He began slamming the button repeatedly, cursing under his breath.
When that didn't work, he wedged his fingers between the narrow gap in the door and pulled with all his strength. His muscles tensed, veins bulging in his neck, his jaw clenched tightly as he grunted, "Come on… open!"
The door groaned under his effort, sliding open just a crack. Not enough. He roared with frustration, digging his heels into the floor, summoning every ounce of strength. The door creaked wider, inch by inch, until—finally—it gave way with a harsh metallic screech.
Cold air rushed in, but instead of the familiar sight of tunnel walls and tracks, there was… nothing. Just an abyss. A suffocating, endless darkness that seemed to swallow even the faint light spilling from the train behind him.
Manan's heart skipped a beat. He pulled out his phone with shaky hands and turned on the flashlight, aiming it into the void. But the beam didn't pierce the darkness. It was as if the light itself was afraid to go any further, fading almost instantly.
"Why the hell is it so dark?" Manan whispered, his voice trembling.
His gaze darted back to the empty cabin, then back into the abyss beyond the door. A cold sweat coated his skin. The emptiness, the silence, the darkness—it was unbearable. He couldn't stay inside the train. Whatever was happening, he had to get out.
Gripping the metal handle beside the door, Manan leaned out cautiously. His eyes strained to adjust to the darkness, and far—far—in the distance, he saw it: a faint, flickering light. A pinprick of hope. It looked like the tunnel's exit, though it seemed impossibly far away, farther than it should've been.
"I didn't know this tunnel was this long," he muttered, trying to convince himself that this was normal—that he wasn't trapped in some nightmare.
He glanced back inside the train one last time. No light at the other end. Just more darkness. Swallowing his fear, he made his decision.
I have to get out of here, stepping forward.
But as his foot reached out, expecting solid ground below… there was nothing.
His body pitched forward into the void, and suddenly—he was falling.
"AAAAAHHHH!" His scream echoed into the emptiness, swallowed by the darkness around him.
His arms flailed, trying to grasp onto something, anything, but there was nothing to hold. The air roared past him, pulling at his clothes, whipping through his hair. The sensation was dizzying, terrifying.
"What the hell is happening to me?!" he shouted, his voice raw with fear.
The darkness wasn't just around him—it was inside him, spinning, twisting, pulling at the edges of his mind. He felt weightless and heavy all at once, like gravity couldn't decide what to do with him.
And then… nothing.
His vision blurred. His thoughts grew distant. The spinning slowed.
Manan's eyes fluttered shut as unconsciousness claimed him, his body still falling, deeper and deeper into the unknown.
•••
There was a stunning expanse of blue sky above that seemed to continue on forever. Floating languidly, in no particular pattern, were wisps of clouds, some small and wispy, some enormous and imposing, and a few that seemed almost out of place in their vast, round form.
These huge clouds curled around the sun, which was positioned exactly in the center of the circle. The sun's gentle golden rays poured through the gaps and filled the sky with a peaceful light. Because of the sun's reflection, the clouds themselves had taken on a warm yellow hue, with their edges gleaming like gentle halos.
There was a never-ending sea of grass beneath this enormous sky, with each blade standing tall and no longer than 13 centimeters—enough to brush someone's ankles if they walked through it.
The soft hum of the wind seemed to be matched by the peaceful, calming rhythm that the grass created as it waved in the breeze. There, at the very top of the little hill that was formed by the gently sloping terrain below, lay a man.
His eyes were tightly closed, his body stretched out on the grassy knoll, his stance comfortable but rigid in some way. Anyone who would have seen him might have thought he was just relaxing and taking in the quiet of the open field.
Although the landscape seemed peaceful, almost surreal, the man's immobility did not represent the peace. He appeared to be engrossed in something he was unable to fully comprehend.
His eyes fluttered open, slowly at first, as though he were waking from a deep sleep, breaking the moment's silence. As he adjusted to the bright hues of his surroundings, his eyes blinked in the intense sunlight.
The azure sky, the odd whirling clouds above him, the sunlight warming his face—it was difficult at first to take it all in.
Yes, it was lovely, but it didn't seem genuine. It resembled a sight taken from out of a dream, and it was too unbelievable. He tried to focus by blinking once more, but the clouds appeared to surround the sun in a way that made it even more confusing as his gaze wandered across the sky.
He mumbled to himself, "Was that a dream?"
As though the idea of it would somehow make it seem more likely. He gazed at the boundless space above him, the grass covered in long shadows from the golden sunlight.
The breeze was soft, purposeful but never overly strong, and the air had a clean scent, reminiscent of wildflowers and morning dew. Everything seemed too serene, too ideal for the mayhem he had just witnessed.
His voice was unsure, as though he were attempting to persuade himself of something he didn't entirely believe.
"No, this... this has to be a dream."
As he attempted to make sense of it all, his chest tightened and his breath became a little faster. However, the more he considered it, the less it made sense.
Had he not been somewhere? It was a terrible vortex of nothingness, black and unending. Dropping. He was plummeting. Now he found himself on the lush grass of a meadow, gazing up at a sky that seemed so far away, as though he had been transported to a distant continent.
After lying motionless for so long, his body was stiff, so he sat up slowly.
His mind was clouded by bewilderment, and the abrupt movement sent a dull throb and a piercing agony through his brain.
Putting it aside, he scanned the area with his eyes. There was something eerie about the way the grass swayed in the wind, each blade moving as though it were alive. Too still. Too flawless. He looked toward the horizon, but all he saw was more of the same, the unending sea of grass softly moving.
He noticed something. A motion. The air raised one blade of grass and brushed it lightly on his cheek.
His breath caught in reaction to the sudden chilly feeling. The grass remained, however, when the breeze moved on. It was lodged in the delicate groove of his jaw, pressing against his skin.
He grasped the tiny blade between his fingers and reached up, gently pulling at it. He turned it over in his fingers and examined it carefully.
"This... this feels way too real for a dream."
The grass had a rough yet delicate texture as his fingertips followed the veins that ran through it.
How could this be true? Everything seemed so bright and real. He felt as though he was in a painting, a scene from which he ought to be able to awaken, but the longer he remained there, the more it resisted him. The grass blade felt like evidence. A clue that this wasn't a mental trick.
His body was working automatically as his thoughts rushed to get to his feet.
His chest constricted in fear."What the hell is going on?"
Now he could feel his heart beating more quickly, each beat thumping cruelly in his rib cage, as though it may suddenly jump out. As he combed through his untidy hair, his hands shook a little as he attempted to sort out the confusion in his mind. The terror was intense, the feeling of displacement. Of course he was somewhere.
He felt as though he had been pulled out of a nightmare and into something better, something safer, because the air was too fresh and clean.
Was it, though? His heart continued to race. In order to make sense of the reality that now around him, he had to move and do something.
Once more, he gazed out over the expansive field, his eyes straying into the distance.
He noticed something there, just barely perceptible on the horizon. Though it was difficult to see, it appeared to be a construction of some sort; tall, far away, somehow familiar, but out of place.
He took a few shaky steps forward without thinking, then accelerated his pace until he nearly ran.
"That never-ending black emptiness, an empty train, and now this? A meadow that seems to go on for miles and an endless sky?"
"This is crazy," he whispered to himself, his words escaping in a torrent of bewilderment and annoyance.
He felt the coarse stubble on his jaw as he rubbed his fingers over his face.
What type of day is this? Where in the world am I?
As he went, the grass parted and his feet accelerated, but his thoughts continued to race. His self-confidence dwindled with every step. He had more questions as he approached the far-off little structure.
He had been where? What had brought him here? Where was this? Was he still having dreams? Had he awoken to a completely different planet, or what?
Even though the ideas were unbearable, he was certain that something was wrong with this place. He had to discover what it was.