The town of Brzozówka had a habit of creaking in the wind like an old clock. In summer the linden trees whispered over the cobblestones, in winter the snow creaked under shoes, and in spring the river sloshed under the bridge, spinning foam ditties. At the end of Railway Street, where plants had reclaimed the area after the tracks, stood a rusty post with a crooked sign: "Line 0 Loop". No one had seen a tram there for years. Mela lived next door, in a house with a roof so slanted that it looked like an elf's hat slipped over her eyes. She was twelve years old, with pockets full of paper clips, heart-shaped stones and a miniature notebook. Her younger brother, nine-year-old Gabrys, carried bells that sounded differently depending on the weather. They also had a cat. The cat's name was Fisty, and he pretended not to care about anything, but he always appeared where things were most interesting. That evening, when the sky was the colour of berry jam, Mela climbed into the attic. She was looking for a torch, and found a chest she had never seen before. On the lid someone had inscribed: "For the use of Line 0". The lock gave way after one tentative tap with her elbow. Inside lay a ticket stamp, smelling of rain and dust, and something that looked like a paper bird fastened with a silver safety pin. - Gabrys! - she called out. - Come and see it! My brother crawled up into the attic, followed - as usual, seemingly by accident - by Fisty. Mela lifted the paper bird. Its beak was sharply curved, its wings made of marks that disappear in the sun and reappear in the shade. - 'It's just origami,' stated Gabrys, although his bells buzzed as if they had a different opinion. Mela touched the safety pin. A bird's beak nudged her finger until she jumped up in surprise. The paper rustled, curled up and - to their amazement - turned into a flat, silvery rectangle. It was a ticket, shiny as fish scales, with the words embossed on it: "There and back. Passenger: Mela + 1". Underneath it was stamped: "Line 0 - Night Tram". - Is this a joke? - whispered Gabryś. - Some very old joke? - 'Stampede,' muttered Mela, reaching out for a punch from the box. - Let's see if it works. She squeezed the handle. The metal squeaked. She didn't tap the ticket, yet there was a quiet 'click', and in the air just above their heads there appeared... a circular hole, like a hole in a piece of paper, through which a slice of another sky, slightly darker and full of busy stars, could be seen. "Click", and the hole disappeared as if nothing had happened. - Did you hear that? - Mela swallowed her saliva. - It sounded like... like platforms late at night. That same evening, as her parents bustled about in the kitchen and the town fires reflected in the window, the town hall clock began to strike the hours. First twelve. Then... eleven. Then ten. The ticking slowed down, as if someone was fiddling with the springs. - It's counting backwards,' Gabryś remarked from the bed, staring at the ceiling. - I don't think that's supposed to happen. Mela could not fall asleep. The moonlight moved across the floor like a milky wave. A ticket lay on the desk. Something in it vibrated, as if the words hidden in the silver were communicating in a whisper. When the tower clock said "nine", the ticket trembled slightly and unfolded its horn, showing a tiny arrow pointing towards the window. - 'All right, all right,' Mela stood up, threw on a sweatshirt, slipped the ticket into her notebook and poked her brother. - 'Get dressed. We're going for a while. Fisty, make sure we don't come back empty-handed. The cat jumped off the armchair and stretched, pretending not to care. After a while he was already at the door. Railway Street was asleep, but its sleep was alert. The cobblestones gleamed as if someone had polished them in the night. The former terminus loomed in the twilight; nettles hid bits of track, and a cracked newspaper from ten years ago lay on a bench under the shelter. The lantern blinked. Suddenly it curled in on itself and glowed brightly, as if someone from afar had connected it to another, very old cable. The plaque above the post jerked and turned. On the other side, where there had once been an advertisement for lemonade, stiff letters appeared: "Night Tram - Arrival: 0:07". - 'There's no track,' Gabriel remarked, but at the same instant two shiny lanes sprouted up right in front of their shoes, like a snail trail, only silver and straight. The sound came simultaneously: at first distant, high, like a bow passing over a glass, then lower and lower, heavier, until the bench vibrated. Out of the mist came something that had the shape of a tram, but was not one. The shell of the vehicle glistened like the skin of a night fruit. The windows, instead of reflecting the town, showed other images - a street under water, an alley with lanterns wearing lampshades made of leaves, a corridor full of doors behind which the wind sang. Brass antlers swayed on the roof, and a number glowed on the forehead: 0. The door slid open with a soft sigh. Warmth and the smell of ozone, wet maps and roasting chestnuts wafted from inside. A woman in a navy blue coat stepped out onto the platform. She had hair the colour of night clouds, and on her cap was a silver cord tied in a knot without beginning or end. - 'Good evening, Passengers,' she said in a voice that sounded like Gabrysia's bells, only more so. - Ms Conductor Lila. Line 0 reporting on time. Mela nodded, suddenly remembering the manners her grandmother usually reminded her of. - Good morning. I mean... good evening. I think we have a ticket. She handed over a silver rectangle. Lila brushed her fingers over it, and a brief flash poked three tiny holes in the ticket, arranged in the shape of a constellation. - Two seats. 'And one for the cat, if he fancies it,' added Mrs Conductor with a smile, glancing at Fisticuffs, who pretended not to listen. - Where is it going? - asked Gabrys, brave as always when Mela gets very quiet. - 'We're going where we need to go. - Lila shrugged her shoulders and her navy blue coat rustled like waves. - Today's route includes the Point of Silence, the Tower of Winds and one stop at Iron Meadows. But before you get on, there is something to report. Mrs Conductor slipped her hand into her pocket and took out a small box, covered in stickers with station names Mela had never heard of: "Tide One", "Stairway Above the Clouds", "Warm Shadows". The box was light, and as Mela grasped it, a gentle shiver ran through the wood. - What is this? - She asked, feeling something in her stomach take a tumble backwards. - A thing to be found. - Lila looked at her more seriously. - 'There's someone waiting for you at the Point of Silence. He needs this very box from you. Nothing difficult, just need to hold it tightly and not look in before time. - Don't look in? - repeated Gabriel, instantly a hundred per cent more curious. The box vibrated again, this time more clearly. From inside it came something like... a double, timid knocking. As if someone was knocking on the inside with the end of a pen. Fistash wagged his tail and flicked, but did not run away; he just hopped up on the bench to see better. The clock on the town hall said "five". The letters on the plaque under the roof of the shelter fluttered until they formed a sentence: 'The entrance ends after: 4... 3..." - We have to go now," Lila spoke up, standing by the door. - Line 0 hates to be late. Inside there are seats lined with maps, a buffet of currant compote and a guide to silence, if you wish. Mela looked at Gabrysio. He looked at her. They had understood each other without words since they were children, but now something in her brother's gaze told her clearly: 'If you don't go, afterwards you will regret it to the end of the world and one day more'. The box warmed her fingers. A whisper came from inside - so quiet that it could only be the sound of someone thinking. And yet Mela heard it, clear and distinct, like the sound of bells on a frosty afternoon: - Mela... - Did you hear that? - Gabriel shook his eyes. - It said your name! - Two... - the placard sounded. Laughter came from inside the tram, in the kind of tone their grandmother used to laugh when she shook the flour off the dough and said: "One more piece won't hurt anyone". But Grandma hadn't been here since spring; she had moved far away, to the sea. Mela tightened her fingers on the box. Underfoot, fresh silver tracks murmured. From behind the glass scrolled images she wanted to see more closely: a city under water with fish swimming in the lanterns; a garden with trees that grow to the centre of the earth. At the same time, water from an innocuous puddle rushed under their bench and a small silver fish jumped out. It swirled around, touched the tip of its tail to the tip of Gabrys' shoe and disappeared, leaving a circle as if from a stamp. - One... - said the clock, as if looking over their shoulder. - 'Now,' whispered Lila and held out her hand. - Please get on. Fisty did the thing Mela least expected: he jumped off the bench, skipped between their legs and, with a grace not seen in animals who claim to have everything under control, jumped inside the tram like a shadow and disappeared into the semi-darkness. - Fisty! - shouted Gabrys and dashed forward. Mela grabbed him by the sleeve, squeezed the box with her other hand. The door began to curl open like the petals of a flower at dawn, and from inside, from the very end of the carriage, came their names spoken in one familiar voice, so warm that everything around them trembled like the surface of tea: - Mela... Gabrys....