I’ve been working as a train conductor for as long as I can remember. The repetitive rumble of the rails, the hiss of the brakes, the rhythm of the journey…it’s all like music to my ears. But the late-night shifts, they are an entirely different story.
There’s a kind of quiet, deep and vast, that swallows the night. It amplifies the smallest sounds - the wind whistling past the engine, the soft click-clack of metal on metal. It’s during these shifts that the most unusual things tend to happen. And one night in particular, my encounter with the abnormal has left a lasting impression. It was a bitterly cold November night.
The train was running its usual route through the heart of rural Pennsylvania, with its final destination being the small town of Dover. This route was a lonely one, known only to freight conductors and the occasional nocturnal animal. It stretched out into the darkness, the single beam of our train’s headlight piercing the black canvas of the night.
The only thing different about that night was a detour. We were instructed to reroute due to some maintenance work on the main line. This reroute took us through an old abandoned track, running past the ghost town of Aldersville. Once a mining hub, the town was abandoned in the 1920s due to a series of unfortunate accidents that gave it the reputation of being cursed. Since then, the track was rarely used, and there were whispers among the crew about it being haunted. I wasn’t one to indulge in superstitions, but the stories had an uncanny way of crawling into one’s mind.
As we drew closer to Aldersville, an eerie sense of dread filled the air. The previous chatter among the crew fell silent. Suddenly, the radio in my cabin came to life with an onslaught of static. I fiddled with it, trying to get a clear signal, but to no avail. It was then that I saw it, far ahead in the distance. A dim, flickering light on the tracks. My heart pounded as I slowed the train. As we inched closer, I realized it was a signal lamp, swinging back and forth on its own.
There was no wind, no one around to move it. Just a swinging lamp in the middle of an abandoned track. As we passed the eerie light, a chill ran down my spine. I looked out into the darkness, and for a split second, I thought I saw figures standing amongst the trees, their forms silhouetted against the pale moonlight. They were immobile, merely watching as the train passed by. But as quickly as they appeared, they were gone.
Unsettled, I turned my attention back to the path ahead, my mind teeming with questions. The rest of the journey was shrouded in an oppressive silence, the eerie events playing on repeat in my head. It was only when the distant lights of Dover came into view that I felt a semblance of relief wash over me. Yet, as I disembarked, I couldn’t shake off the feeling of unease. Little did I know, this was just the beginning of a series of chilling events that would forever change my perspective on the supposed tales of the supernatural.
The abandoned track was hiding a dark secret, and I was unknowingly becoming a part of its haunting narrative. The days following the encounter were filled with an unshakable unease. The memory of the swinging signal lamp and the shadowy figures danced at the edge of my consciousness. The crew didn’t speak of it, but I could see it in their eyes - they were as shaken as I was.
The following week, I found myself once again at the helm of the night train. This time, I was prepared for the detour, or at least I thought I was. As we neared the abandoned track, the memories of the previous week came flooding back. I took a deep breath, hoping to steady my racing heart. The radio crackled to life once again with a symphony of static.
This time, however, there was something else. A voice. It was distant, distorted, and barely discernable, but it was definitely a voice. It was a woman, repeating the same phrase over and over, “Stay away.” The cold grip of dread tightened around me. The train was now on the abandoned track, the deserted town of Aldersville approaching fast.
The signal lamp was there again, swinging ominously. The figures were back too, standing motionless amongst the trees. This time, however, they weren’t just watching. They were moving towards the track. As I peered into the darkness, trying to make out their forms, a sudden chill filled the cabin. The radio died out abruptly, plunging the cabin into a maddening silence. In that silence, I heard it. A soft tap, tap, tap against the train door. It was rhythmic, deliberate, like a metronome.
My heart pounded in my chest as the tapping continued, growing louder and more persistent. I didn’t dare to move, my eyes glued to the door. The train was slowly navigating the curving track, the metallic echo of the wheels a harsh contrast to the unsettling tapping. And then, as suddenly as it had started, it stopped.
The oppressive silence returned, the tapping replaced with the howl of the wind outside. The train continued its journey, leaving the abandoned track and the ghostly town behind. The lights of Dover came into view, but this time, they brought little comfort. I was shaken, my mind a whirlpool of fear and confusion.
The woman’s voice, the tapping, the figures - what was happening? In the safety of my home, I began researching Aldersville. The accidents, the abandonment, and the supposed curse - everything led to a single incident. The derailment of a passenger train in the early 1920s that resulted in numerous casualties.
The accounts varied, but the townsfolk blamed the tragedy on supernatural occurrences. Following the incident, the track was abandoned and the town soon followed. The chilling realization settled over me - was I experiencing the echoes of that tragic past? What were those figures? The woman’s voice? The rhythmic tapping? I was far from understanding what was happening, and it seemed the abandoned track had more secrets to reveal. Little did I know, the real horror was yet to come. The encounter was far from over. A week had passed since the last encounter. The dread that had filled me was slowly replaced by a strange kind of determination.
I had to find answers. On my next shift, I decided to take action. I took a recorder along, hoping to capture the mysterious voice on the radio. We approached the abandoned track once more. The sight of the swinging signal lamp sent a chill down my spine, but I steeled myself for what was to come. As expected, the radio erupted into static, the distant voice of the woman once again pleading, “Stay away.” The figures emerged from the shadows, their outlines becoming clearer as they moved towards the track. I couldn’t make out any specific features, but their forms were distinctly human. My hand gripped the recorder tightly, the red light blinking in the dim cabin light.
The tapping began anew. This time, it seemed to reverberate through the cabin, echoing in the silence. It was no longer just at the door, but all around me. It sounded urgent, desperate. A cold wind swept through the cabin, despite the closed windows and doors. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I held my breath, waiting for it to stop. And then, just like before, it stopped.
An eerie silence filled the cabin as the train continued its journey, leaving the desolate track and the ghostly figures behind. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, my heart still racing. I looked down at the recorder in my hand. The red light was still blinking, recording the eerie silence of the cabin. When I finally mustered the courage to listen to the recording, I was met with the chillingly familiar static, the woman’s voice, and the rhythmic tapping. But there was something else. A second voice.
It was faint, and I had to replay the recording multiple times to make out what it was saying. It was a man’s voice, repeating one phrase, “We are waiting.” I was left with more questions than answers. Who were they? What were they waiting for? Every night on the track brought a new terror, a new piece of the puzzle. I was drawn into a nightmare that seemed to have no end. I knew I was dealing with something beyond my understanding, something supernatural
. But I was determined to find the answers, even if it meant facing the chilling horror that awaited on the abandoned track night after night. The ghostly echoes of Aldersville were reaching out to me, and I couldn’t ignore their call.