The Unseen

Julia's train sliced through the blizzard, a lifeline threading through the heart of a frozen wasteland. She was alone in her compartment, the rhythmic clatter of wheels on tracks a soothing, if monotonous, companion. Outside, the world was a blur of white, the storm obliterating any distinction between land and sky.

As night deepened, a sense of unease crept over Julia. It began as a whisper of movement in the corner of her eye, a fleeting shadow that vanished when she turned to look. The temperature in the compartment dropped, her exhaled breath visible in the dim light.

Attempting to dismiss her growing fear, Julia wrapped her coat tighter around her, but the cold had somehow seeped into her bones. The train lights flickered, plunged her into darkness briefly before they steadied again. In that moment of darkness, she felt it—an icy touch on her shoulder, fingers as cold as the grave.

Panic rose in her throat as an impossible truth became clear. An unseen presence shared her compartment, its existence betrayed by the cold and those fleeting glimpses of movement. Julia dared not move, her eyes fixed on the reflection in the window, where the outline of something—or someone—sat opposite her, leaning slowly towards her.

The train hurtled on, a lone beacon in the night. But for Julia, the journey had become a nightmare. The blizzard outside was nothing compared to the storm she faced within, a chilling presence that defied explanation, riding the rails with her into the heart of the night.