00:00I take the metro home from work every single day. It's a routine, a rhythm baked into the fabric of
00:05my life. Same route, same stops, same predictable journey. I hop on the red line, ride it down to
00:12Union Station, and then I transfer to the blue line. My stop is Brookfield. The whole trip,
00:17from the moment I step onto the first train, to the moment I step off at my home station,
00:22takes exactly 23 minutes. I've timed it. It's one of those little constants you can set your watch by.
00:27But last Friday, everything changed. I had to stay late at the office, buried under a project that
00:33just wouldn't end. By the time I finally packed up and left, I'd completely miss my usual 6.15 train.
00:39I wasn't too bothered by it. A little late, but what's the big deal, right? I got to the station
00:45and saw the next train was the 9.43. The platform was different at that hour. It was almost completely
00:51empty, a stark contrast to the usual rush hour crowd I was used to. The usual noise was replaced
00:57by a hollow echo. It was just me and one other person waiting for the train. She was standing
01:02at the far end of the platform, a lone figure under the dim station lights. All I could really
01:07make out was that she was wearing a long, grey coat. Soon enough, the familiar rumble of the
01:12approaching train filled. The silence, the train arrived, its doors hissing open. I got into the
01:18second car, finding a seat without a second thought. I saw her, the woman in the grey coat,
01:24get into the first car, just ahead of mine. The doors closed, sealing us inside, and with a lurch,
01:30the train started moving into the dark tunnel. I settled into my seat by the window, the city light
01:35streaking by. I pulled out my phone, just like I always do, and started scrolling through messages,
01:41checking social media. Everything felt completely normal. Just a late train ride home. We pulled
01:47into the first stop. The doors slid open, announcing our arrival to an empty platform.
01:53Nobody got on. Nobody got off. The doors closed, and we moved on. The same thing happened at the
01:59second stop, and then again at the third. The train, which was already quiet, now felt unnervously vacant.
02:05It was just me, alone in my car. Well, not completely alone. There was still the woman in the grey
02:11coat,
02:12somewhere in the car ahead of me. We arrived at Union Station, my transfer point. I got off the
02:18train and started the familiar walk through the connecting tunnel to the blue line platform.
02:22The tunnel felt longer than usual, my footsteps echoing louder. When I emerged onto the blue line
02:28platform, I saw her again, the woman. She was already there, standing in the exact, same spot as before
02:35at the very far end of the platform. Still in that grey coat, her back turned to me.
02:40I felt a small, strange prickle of an ease, but I shook it off. It was just a coincidence. The
02:46blue
02:46line train arrived, breaking the strange stillness. This time, trying to put some distance between us
02:52for reasons I couldn't quite explain. I got into the third car. I watched as she boarded the second
02:57car, right between her previous. Spot and my new one. The train started moving again, pulling us deeper
03:03into the city's underbelly. I found myself looking through the small window in the door that connected
03:09the train cars. I could just make out her silhouette in the car ahead. She was sitting down, facing
03:14forward, perfectly still. Her stillness was unsettling. Most people fidget, look at their
03:19phones, or glance around. She just sat there, a statue in a grey coat. We passed the first stop,
03:25then the second. Still, no one got on or off. The train remained a private, rolling world for just
03:31the two of us. It was somewhere between the third and fourth stop that things started to go truly
03:36wrong. The lights inside the car flickered violently, plunging us into momentary darkness
03:41before buzzing back to life. The train began to slow down, but not in the usual way it would when
03:46approaching a station. It felt like it was just... drifting, losing momentum in the middle of the
03:52tunnel. I peered out the window, but all I saw was the rough-hewn concrete of the tunnel wall
03:57rushing by, then slowing to a crawl. There was nothing but darkness out there. The lights flickered
04:03again, a longer, more dramatic stutter this time. A few seconds of complete blackness, and when they
04:09flickered back on, my blood ran cold. She was in my car. The woman was standing at the opposite end
04:14of
04:14the car, facing me. She was still wearing that grey coat, but now... I could see her face clearly,
04:20and her face was wrong. It wasn't grotesque or deformed, not in any way I can easily describe.
04:26It was just... wrong. It looked like someone was wearing a cheap, poorly made mask of a human face,
04:33where the features were all in the right place, but they didn't fit together correctly. The
04:38proportions were off, the expression was blank but somehow menacing, but I knew with a certainty that
04:43terrified me that it wasn't a mask, just as I was processing. This impossible sight, the train lurched
04:49forward again, slowly picking up speed, but she didn't move. She just stood there at the far end
04:55of the car, staring directly at me with those wrong flat eyes. My heart was hammering against my ribs.
05:01I had to get away. I stood up, my legs feeling like lead, and started walking toward the door that
05:06led
05:06to the next car, away from her. The moment I started moving, she started walking too. She mirrored my pace
05:12exactly, taking one slow step for every one of mine, keeping the distance between us constant. It was like
05:18a horrifying, silent dance. I reached the connecting door and slammed my hand on the button to open it.
05:25Nothing happened. The button didn't even light up. I pressed it again and again, frantically. It was dead.
05:31I was trapped in the car with her. Through the window, I saw the familiar lights of my station approaching.
05:36Brookfield. Thank God. The train slowed. And with a final hiss, the main door slid open onto the platform.
05:43I didn't hesitate. I bolted out of the car and onto the solid ground of the station platform,
05:49gasping for air. I stumbled a few feet away and then turned to look back at the train.
05:54She was standing right at the open doorway. She hadn't stepped out. She was just standing there,
05:59framed by the light of the car watching me. The warning chime sounded, and the doors began to slide
06:04shut. And just before they closed completely, sealing her away, she...
06:08smiled. It wasn't a normal smile. It stretched far too wide across her wrong face, revealing rows of
06:15teeth that seemed too long, too sharp, too numerous. The train pulled away, taking her and her terrible
06:21smile with it, disappearing into the tunnel. I stood there for what felt like an eternity,
06:26alone on the empty platform, my breath coming in ragged bursts. My hands were shaking. I finally
06:32managed to pull my phone out of my pocket, needing to see something normal, something real. I...
06:37glanced at the time. 11.37pm. My mind went blank for a second. That couldn't be right.
06:43I got on the first train at 9.43pm. The entire journey, including the transfer, should have been
06:49maybe half an hour, 40 minutes, tops. Not almost two hours. I had lost nearly two hours of my life,
06:55and I have absolutely no memory of where they went. All I remember is the flickering lights and that
07:00awful, awful face. Now I only...
07:02Take the 6.15 train. I make sure of it. I never work late, and I'm never on the metro
07:08after dark.
07:09But sometimes, even in the crowded rush hour when I'm standing on the platform waiting for my train,
07:15I see her. A glimpse of a grey coat. A figure standing at the far end, facing away. And I
07:21know,
07:21with a cold dread that never leaves me, that she's waiting. And if I ever get on the wrong train
07:26again,
07:26I might not lose just a couple of hours. I might not make it home at all. Thanks for listening.
07:31Stay safe out there.
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