When I heard the stories of the abandoned train, I was immediately intrigued. Late-night whispers in dark corners spoke of a train that appeared only to those who sought it. The curious and the desperate would find themselves stepping aboard, venturing into the unknown. It was said that the train had deeper levels, each more unsettling than the last. I needed to see it for myself.
On a rainy evening, shrouded in darkness, I found the old train. The rusty tracks seemed to appear from nowhere, snaking their way through the shadows. The train was old, its paint peeling, and the windows were cracked. But it had an undeniable presence, an aura of otherworldliness that captivated me. I boarded with a pounding heart, finding myself in a dimly lit cabin. Then– the train started moving.
At first, nothing happened. But then, as we ventured further into the night, there was a grating sound like nails on a chalkboard as I suddenly felt like I was on a drop tower in an amusement park.
The inside of the train suddenly felt completely different. I call this Level 1. Here I noticed that the once-empty seats were filled with identical passengers. Their expressions were blank, staring ahead. It was unnerving, but I was too curious to leave. I needed to see what lay deeper within the train.
Level 2 was a shock. As the cabin was suddenly bathed in a deep red light, the passengers all turned to face me. Their eyes were now pitch black, devoid of any humanity. The air grew heavy, and it became harder to breathe. But still, I pressed on, driven by my desire to explore this liminal space.
As I delved deeper into the train, the environment became increasingly disturbing. The walls seemed to close in, and the train’s movement became erratic, jerking violently without warning. The passengers no longer resembled anything human. Their limbs were twisted and elongated, and their black eyes seemed to pierce my very soul. I could feel my sanity slipping away, but I couldn’t stop.
On Level 9, I was nearly consumed by the darkness. The passengers had become monstrous, their faces twisted into grotesque snarls. The air was so thick that I could barely breathe. In that moment, I knew that if I didn’t escape, I would be lost forever. For some reason I believed if I stood and fought my way to the front of the train, I could claw my way up a level.
And that’s exactly what happened. It took all of my strength to just barely make it up through each level, to the safety of reality.
I was suddenly back in the abandoned cabin at Level 0. I stepped outside. This first trip was so overwhelming, my senses stimulated past anything I’d ever experienced– I blacked out a lot of the details.
I vowed never to return. But something about that experience haunted me. The mundane reality of life became unbearable, a constant reminder of the train that had nearly claimed me. I knew that I couldn’t resist its pull forever.
I needed to find out what lies beyond Level 9, to see what twisted horrors await me in the depths of the abyss.
Last night I returned to that desolate station. It wasn’t where I last found it– I needed to will it to appear in front of me. After several moments I could feel it about ten yards away, shrouded in fog. It stood before me– harrowing and gorgeous all at once,.
I boarded the train. My hands trembled as I reached for the cold, metal door handle, my heart racing with a mix of fear and excitement. As I entered the cabin, a feeling of déjà vu washed over me – the dim lighting, the musty smell, and the faint creaking of the train as it lurched into motion.
Level 1 was just as I remember it. The seats filled with identical passengers, their vacant stares a chilling reminder of the journey I was about to undertake. As the train descended to Level 2, the deep red glow returned, painting the cabin walls in sinister shades of crimson. The passengers’ eyes turned pitch black, as if they were empty vessels waiting to be filled with darkness.
On Level 3, I found myself in a fog-shrouded world. The cabin was cloaked in a dense mist, obscuring the grotesque passengers that lurked within. Their twisted limbs reached out from the fog, grasping at the air, as if trying to snatch me away from my path.
Level 4 brought a cacophony of tortured screams. The once-empty seats were now filled with writhing, agonized figures, their bodies contorted in unimaginable ways. The walls of the cabin seemed to pulsate, as if alive with the pain and suffering of the damned.
The train lurched violently as we descended to Level 5. Here, the cabin was bathed in an eerie, sickly green light. The passengers’ faces were now bloated and rotten, their mouths gaping open to reveal rows of jagged, broken teeth. The stench of decay filled the air, and I struggled not to gag as I pressed onward.
Level 6 was a realm of shadows. The cabin was plunged into almost total darkness, the only light coming from the faint glow of the passengers’ eyes. Their grotesque forms seemed to shift and change with each flicker of light, as if they were creatures not of flesh and bone, but of darkness itself.
By the time I reached Level 7, the train’s movement had become a chaotic, frenzied dance. The cabin lurched and swayed violently, the twisted passengers thrown about like rag dolls. The walls were slick with blood and other unidentifiable fluids, and the train’s once-melodic creaks became guttural, demonic growls.
Level 8 was a nightmare I can barely describe. The cabin was alive with writhing, slithering tendrils, pulsating and twisting as if they had minds of their own. The passengers have all but disappeared, replaced by grotesque masses of flesh and bone, fused together in a horrifying amalgamation of suffering and despair.
As I entered Level 9, the darkness consumed me once more. The monstrous passengers closed in, their twisted faces barely visible in the suffocating blackness. My heart raced as I forced myself through the nightmarish crowd, each step bringing me closer to the brink of madness. But there was a strange, magnetic pull emanating from somewhere deeper, urging me to continue.
And then, at last, I reached Level 10. The train came to a sudden, jarring halt, and the door to the next cabin slid open. I stepped into the unknown, my breath catching in my throat as I confronted the heart of the abyss.
The cabin was vast, larger than any of the others, and bathed in an ethereal, pale light. The passengers were gone, replaced by an enormous, pulsating mass that stretched from floor to ceiling. The mass was a swirling vortex of darkness, streaked with flashes of blinding white light. It seemed to beckon me, drawing me closer with a force I couldn’t resist.
As I approached the vortex, I felt a sudden, overwhelming sense of unity – a connection to something far greater than myself. It was as if I was being offered a glimpse of the infinite, a chance to embrace the darkness and become one with the abyss. The fear that accompanied me throughout my journey faded, replaced by an almost euphoric acceptance of my fate.
I stepped closer to the vortex, my body trembling as I prepared to be consumed by the unknown. But just as I was about to be swallowed by the darkness, a voice echoed through the cabin, clear and powerful: “Turn back.”
I hesitated, torn between the allure of the abyss and the desperate plea of the voice. The vortex roared in frustration, the darkness churning and writhing as if trying to seize me. But the voice grew louder, more insistent: “Turn back, before it’s too late.”
With a final, agonizing burst of willpower, I wrenched myself away from the vortex and stumbled back towards the front of the car. As I retraced my steps through the hellish depths of the train, the voice remained with me, guiding me back to the surface and the safety of the mundane world.
When I finally stepped off the train, the night air was cold and crisp. The shadows had retreated, replaced by the first faint light of dawn. The voice is gone, but its message lingers, a stark reminder of the dangers that lie in the pursuit of the unknown.
I walk away from the abandoned train, forever changed by my journey into the depths of the abyss. The allure of the unknown will always tempt me, but I now understand the limits of human curiosity. Some doors are best left unopened, some secrets best left undiscovered.