Natalka hears a train speak to her and follows Philip to the station, where an old carriage opens a secret she was never meant to find.
Natalka loved the old station at the edge of town. It was the kind of place where nothing ever seemed to happen, except the trains themselves. She and Philip spent whole afternoons on platform three, counting carriages, inventing stories about suitcases, and guessing who was going where.
That afternoon the air felt different. A soft sound drifted from the siding, thin as a sigh. Philip tilted his head. "Did you hear that?"
Natalka did hear it. Not with her ears, exactly. The sound seemed to slip straight into her mind, clear as a voice. She froze. The old train sitting alone by the weeds was covered in patches of green moss, and its round headlights blinked at her once, then twice, as if it already knew her.
Natalka... help me.
She took a shaky step forward. "Philip," she whispered, without looking away from the carriage, "I think the train is talking to me."
Philip gave her a confused look. "You're kidding."
But Natalka wasn't kidding. The words inside her head came again, urgent now, and the rusted door of the carriage shuddered. With a long, creaking groan, it began to swing open.