In the heart of a bustling city of Midtown Manhattan lies the Grand Railway Station, a place filled with countless tales and whispers.
them is a chilling myth about a mysterious third level that (Doesn't exist in the real world). Accordin...
The next day passed in a blur, with Ayla's thoughts entirely consumed by the Midnight Platform. She went through the motions of her classes and routine, but her mind was fixed on the hidden staircase.
As night fell, she stood in front of the mirror, pulling on a thick, charcoal-gray sweater and a pair of dark jeans, her breath visible in the chilly winter air. She slipped into her warmest coat and laced up her boots, ready for the cold. Before heading out, Ayla informed Iris of her plans. Iris, used to her roommate's determined nature, simply nodded, too tired to argue.
With a final glance at her reflection, Ayla left the room, the frosty night air greeting her as she stepped out, resolved to find the staircase at last.
Ayla arrived at the station as the clock struck midnight, the chime echoing through the cold, still air. The platform was quiet, bathed in the dim glow of flickering lamps. The old station, with its weathered bricks and iron arches, whispered of forgotten times. Fading posters lined the walls, and frost covered the tracks, glinting under the pale light.
Few people were around, bundled against the winter chill, their footsteps muted on the worn stone floor. Ayla’s breath formed small clouds as she scanned the platform, her heart racing with anticipation. The station’s shadows deepened as she ventured further, every corner a potential gateway to the unknown.
Ayla wandered the station for what felt like hours, checking every corner and staircase but finding nothing. Frustration gnawed at her, and she began to doubt the myth. Just as she was about to give up, something caught her eye—a staircase in a dimly lit corner she was sure hadn’t been there before. Her heart pounded as she approached it, excitement surging within her.
The shabby, worn steps creaked as she descended, the air growing cooler. A soft, ethereal glow filled the space, and soon Ayla noticed glowing blue butterflies fluttering around her, guiding her deeper. Their delicate wings cast a mesmerizing luminescence on the walls.
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Finally, the glow of the butterflies gave way to dim light below. At the bottom of the staircase, Ayla paused, her breath catching in her throat. An entire underground station lay before her, vast and mysterious.
The station was nothing like Ayla had imagined. The stories she had pieced together from half-remembered myths and childhood fantasies had painted a place bustling with strange travelers, a hub of magic and mystery.
But this? This was different.The platform was eerily quiet, a vast stretch of polished obsidian reflecting the cold, distant light of the moon. It was empty—completely void of life except for one figure. He was standing at the far end, near the entrance to the Midnight Train.
He was impossibly tall, his features shrouded in shadow. A chill ran down my spine as I caught sight of him. I started to look at his face but quickly remembered the rule: Don’t look into his eyes. My gaze dropped to the ground, and I forced myself to keep walking, my footsteps echoing in the silence.
