Filed aboard Engine 229 by Raine Solara, who sat across from the man with the mic and too many secrets.
There are unconfirmed reports (but far too many) that Engine 229, the infamous midnight train winding through The Retreat, may be more than just haunted.
It may be possessed not by ghosts, but by aliens, the kind that wear secondhand emotions like suits, the type that hum through jukebox static, and the kind that never ask for tickets, only memories.
Not walking. Not arriving. Just... being, now seated across from him. Her gown is stitched from whispers and late apologies. Cats curl in the corners like living shadows, watching with polite judgment.
TRENTON (closing his notebook):
“Did you summon the train? Or am I riding your memory of it?
“Did you summon the train? Or am I riding your memory of it?
TRENTON:
“This smells like Dandy’s recipe.”
“This smells like Dandy’s recipe.”
ANJELIKKA:
“Dandy gave it to me when he quit the Basement. Said soup was the only truth left.”
But the invaders aren’t strangers; they’re fragments of us, dressed in the alien.
The cats. The jukebox. That weird soup Dandy keeps pushing.
It’s all connected.”
“I think they’re trying to get somewhere... but they forgot where,” Trenton reports
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"Try the lentils, Trenton." |
“Some say Trenton Glass is immune to memory-fog. That he writes in real-time across timelines. That he was born backstage.”
Trenton plays the final clip from the night’s investigation a warped voice over the train’s speaker system:
"This is not a destination. This is a diagnosis."
Then silence.
And somewhere far ahead… laughter.
Possibly Rachel. Possibly not.
You, the reader, why not come and investigate or have a ghostly dinner on the train?
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