SERIAL FICTION

PLATFORM SIX—Dead Tomorrow—The Ticket Home — Episode 4

Some tickets take you somewhere new — this one takes you back

Image by Author created with AI

The person standing behind me was carrying a photograph of my future. In that photograph, I was already dead. The hand on my shoulder tightened.

I spun around. The city was gone.Daniel was gone.

The rain-soaked streets had vanished as if they had never existed.

Only darkness remained, and a woman standing a few feet away. For a moment neither of us spoke.

She looked about my age. Dark coat. Rain on her sleeves. Tired eyes.

Not the kind of tiredness sleep fixes. The kind that comes from carrying something for too long.

In her hands was a folded photograph.

"You stayed longer than most," she said.

I stared at her.

"Who are you?" Instead of answering, she looked past me. Toward the place where the city had disappeared.

"Did you see him?"

My chest tightened.

"You know about Daniel?" Something flickered across her face. Not surprise, recognition.

The kind people have when they hear a story they already know.

"I know enough."

That wasn’t an answer. Somehow it frightened me more than if she had answered directly.

Platform Six looked different now.

Empty. The train had vanished. The mourners were gone. Only rain remained. The woman slowly held out a small yellow ticket.

The paper looked old. The edges were worn. Just like the ticket I had used to reach Platform Six.

I took it carefully. Printed across the center were two words.

HOMEBOUND.

I looked up.

"What is this?" The woman hesitated. Then she said quietly,

"A way back."

"Back where?" Her eyes met mine.

"To the moment you never stopped replaying."

A chill moved through me. I already knew what moment she meant.

Daniel’s accident.

The phone call. The night everything changed.

Ten years is a long time to miss someone. It’s also a long time to stay ready for their return. I spent a decade trying to accept Daniel was gone.

Then I heard his voice again. Then I saw him and suddenly every step forward I had taken felt fragile. Like grief had only been sleeping. Waiting for an excuse to wake up.

"I don't understand," I said.

"What does the ticket do?"

The woman looked toward the tracks.

"Everyone who comes here wants the same thing."

"Which is?"

"Another chance." Rain echoed softly through the station. For several seconds, she said nothing.

Then she added,

"Most people think they want answers." Her gaze shifted toward me.

"They don't."

"What do they want?" Her expression softened.

"They want one moment back." I looked down at the ticket again.

HOMEBOUND.

One Way, no return listed. Something about that bothered me.

"Why doesn’t it have a return trip?" The woman didn’t answer immediately. When she finally spoke, her voice sounded distant.

"Because some people never come back." A cold knot formed in my stomach.

"What happened to them?" She looked away.

"They find what they’re looking for." That answer somehow felt worse.

Lightning flashed above the platform. For a brief second I thought I saw movement beyond the tracks.

Shadows.

Figures.

People waiting in the rain. Then they were gone.

The station fell silent again. I thought about Daniel.

About the way he smiled.

About the sadness in his eyes.

About the final thing he said. Don’t let them remember you.

The words still didn’t make sense. But they felt important. Like a warning I hadn’t learned how to understand.

The woman stepped closer. For the first time, uncertainty appeared in her expression.

As though she was deciding whether to tell me something. Or protect me from it.

Finally, she held out the photograph. The same one she had been carrying since I turned around.

"I think this belongs to you."

I took it. The paper was damp from rain. My hands suddenly felt unsteady.

"What is it?"

She didn’t answer. I looked down and forgot how to breathe. It was a newspaper.

Tomorrow’s newspaper. The date sat at the top of the page.

Tomorrow.

Not next week.

Not next month.

Tomorrow.

Beneath the headline was a photograph. Crowds gathered behind police barriers. Emergency lights reflected off wet pavement. Rain covered everything and in the center of the image was me.

Lying motionless on the ground. For a moment the world became very quiet.

I stared at the photograph. Certain I was misunderstanding it. Certain my mind was filling in details that weren’t there. But the face was mine.

The coat was mine. The station behind the police tape was familiar.

Too familiar.

Platform Six.

My mouth felt dry.

"This isn’t real." The words sounded weak.

Even to me. The woman didn’t argue.

She simply watched. Like someone waiting for a storm to arrive. Then I noticed something else.

A detail I had missed.

A figure standing near the edge of the photograph.

Partially hidden by rain.

Watching the scene.

Watching my body.

Watching everything.

My heart stopped.

Daniel.

I looked up so quickly the newspaper nearly slipped from my hands.

"What does this mean?"

The woman took a slow breath. For the first time since meeting her, she looked afraid, genuinely afraid.

"I don't know."

"You're lying."

"No."

Her voice cracked slightly.

"I know what happens."

She glanced toward the tracks. Then back at the newspaper.

"But I don't know how to stop it."

The platform lights flickered.

Once.

Twice.

Then the rails began to hum. Somewhere in the darkness beyond the station, another train was coming. This time, it sounded closer than ever.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Coming Next: Episode 5 — The Last Train in the Rain

The newspaper predicts my death. But that’s not what terrifies me. The terrifying part is that Daniel is waiting for it to happen.

Thanks For Reading!

— Âññ