The Last Train at 11 pm | Mysterious story

The journey was nearly over. The rhythmic clatter of the train wheels against the tracks was a lullaby, gently pulling us closer to our destination. It was late, and three of us were on our way back from a colleague's wedding. Among our group were me, Ratan, and Sushovin. We were friends, yes, but also spirited debaters, especially Ratan and Sushovin. The differences in our beliefs and opinions often led to spirited arguments that could turn any conversation into a heated debate.

Ratan, our resident atheist, approached the world with a skeptic's eye, scrutinizing everything through the lens of reason and rationalism. Sushovin, on the other hand, was a devout man, deeply spiritual and pious. Our debates would often revolve around various topics, with Ratan and Sushovin taking opposing sides.

As the train hummed along, we found ourselves in an empty compartment, a perfect setting for yet another of our spirited discussions. Su Shovin suddenly pointed out the window and remarked, "You see, this is what we call luck, Ratan. Do you understand now?" And so it began, another debate on the concepts of good and bad luck.

The conversation eventually meandered into the realm of astrology. Ratan, ever the skeptic, dismissed astrology as mere superstition. Su Shovin, however, passionately defended it, challenging Ratan's arguments at every turn. As for me, I found myself oscillating between the two sides, nodding in agreement with each in turn.

The atmosphere was charged with energy as Ratan seemed to be enjoying the upper hand in this debate. He confidently asserted, "You see, no one has ever accurately predicted the future. It's all cleverly disguised guesswork. The predictions are designed to be vague and open-ended, allowing for interpretation. Those who have faith in astrologers are easily impressed by their generic forecasts."

Just then, a mysterious man sitting across from us spoke up. The three of us turned to regard him. Ratan's eyes narrowed as he observed the man. The stranger was cloaked in a gray-black sheet, his face adorned with a flowing white beard. Though his age was hard to determine, he appeared to be around 60. The man's presence seemed unusual, prompting some to think he might be a vagabond or even mentally unstable.

The man set aside the sheet and approached us. Ratan, with his characteristic skepticism, engaged the man, asking him about his thoughts on predicting the future. The man, after a brief pause, smiled ever so slightly. "To be honest, I have something in my bag that might just change your mind. If you're willing to see it," he responded.

Su Shovin was intrigued. "Are you an astrologer?" he inquired. The man's reply surprised us, "No, I'm just an ordinary person. I can show you something I've learned through the guidance of my guru. It's not about money or fame; it's about proving to disbelievers."

As we probed further, asking about his guru, the man revealed that his mentor led a solitary life away from the local community. The train was traversing a bridge, and a chilling wind blew through the compartment. There was an eerie feeling in the air as the man continued, "I can draw a portrait of the future."

Our curiosity grew as we struggled to comprehend how such a feat could be possible. We questioned the man about the technique. He explained, "I can draw what I see when I close my eyes and touch the pencil to the pad. I can sketch a picture that represents the future."

Ratan, not one to back down from a challenge, proposed, "So, you can draw a portrait of one of us?" The man nodded, and the atmosphere became even more charged with anticipation. We leaned in as Su Shovin offered himself as the subject. "Draw a picture of me," he said.

The man took out a pad and a pencil and inquired about the specific date of the future Su Shovin wanted to see. The pad was quickly inscribed with "20th August 76," indicating that the picture would depict Su Shovin at the age of 76. But as the man prepared to draw, his hand remained still. There was no movement, no sketch taking shape.

We watched in surprise as Su Shovin and I exchanged glances. "Why isn't the picture appearing?" Su Shovin asked. The man calmly explained, "I cannot draw a person's portrait a second time."

Our intrigue only grew. The man's ability seemed to defy reason. We urged him to try once more, proposing different future dates to test the accuracy of his skills. But he insisted, "I can only draw a person's future portrait once."

Ratan, never one to shy away from a challenge, demanded, "Prove it. Draw my future portrait." The pad was brought forth, and a date was penned. "26th June 2020, 11:00 PM," it read. Ratan was determined to see a glimpse of his future, just minutes before we reached our destination.

The man closed his eyes, as if in a trance, and then opened them after a brief moment. To our astonishment, the pad remained untouched. There was no sketch, no image of Ratan's future.

Tensions rose, and our skepticism turned to disbelief. The man explained that he couldn't see a future picture, implying that the subject might not live to that age. Ratan retorted, "Alright, let's decrease the time frame. Draw a portrait for the next two to five years; you'll definitely see a picture then."

But the man was resolute, "I can only draw a person's portrait once." Ratan's anger flared, and he was about to confront the man physically. However, the situation took an unexpected turn. As Ratan lunged towards the man, the train jolted violently, and the lights went out.

Amidst the darkness and chaos, a scream pierced the silence. When the lights returned, both Ratan and the mysterious man had disappeared. The door was left ajar, and the wind howled through the gap. We were left in stunned silence, bewildered by the sudden turn of events.

The train continued its journey, and I checked my watch. It was exactly 11:00 PM.