This is an automated archive made by the Lemmit Bot.

The original was posted on /r/nosleep by /u/ConsiderationTop4315 on 2024-09-13 15:35:07+00:00.

I always hated night shifts, but the pay was good, and the station was always quiet after 2 a.m. That’s when the last train would leave, and the place would descend into an eerie stillness. The kind that makes you feel like you’re the only person left in the world.

Two weeks ago, something changed.

It was a Tuesday — I remember because my girlfriend was mad at me for missing our ‘date night.’ I sat in the control booth, watching the flickering lights of the empty platform when I saw him. A man in a dark coat, standing perfectly still at the far end of the station. At first, I thought he was waiting for a train, but no trains were scheduled. He just stood there, head bowed, face obscured by the shadows.

I glanced away for just a moment, and when I looked back, he was gone. I shrugged it off as some poor soul looking for shelter. People did that sometimes. But then, a few nights later, he was back. Same spot. Same stance. I felt a chill run down my spine, but I didn’t want to overthink it. Night shifts do weird things to your mind.

That night, I left the booth and decided to check things out. My footsteps echoed loudly as I walked down the platform. I called out, “Hey! Station’s closing up!” But he didn’t move. As I got closer, I realized there was something odd about him. His clothes looked outdated, like they were from another era. And his hands… they were too pale, almost translucent under the flickering lights.

When I was about 10 feet away, he turned his head slowly. My breath caught in my throat. His face… it wasn’t quite right. It was almost as if his skin was stretched too tight over his skull, eyes too wide, mouth too thin, as if drawn on with a shaking hand. And then he smiled. Not a friendly smile, but one that seemed to say, “I know you.”

I took a step back, and in that moment, the station lights flickered and went out. Just for a second. When they came back on, he was gone. The platform was empty again. I checked the CCTV footage later, and there was nothing there — no sign of him at all.

This continued for days. Every night, he would appear, always at the same time, always in the same spot, and always disappearing the moment I got too close. I started losing sleep, feeling like he was watching me even when I was at home. My girlfriend said I looked like a ghost myself.

Then, last night, things took a turn for the worse.

I was in the booth, fighting to keep my eyes open, when the radio crackled to life. Static filled the air, but through it, I could make out a faint whisper: “Last stop… last stop…” My blood ran cold. I looked at the platform, and there he was again. Only this time, he was closer. Much closer. Just standing outside the control booth door, staring right at me.

I panicked, fumbling with the radio to call for backup. But the moment my hand touched the dial, the lights went out again. Total darkness. I felt a presence behind me, a cold breath on the back of my neck, and then… nothing.

When the lights flickered back on, I was alone. The booth door was wide open, the cold air blowing in from the platform. I checked the cameras. No sign of him, but I noticed something else. On the floor of the booth, right where he had been standing, was a single, wet footprint. Just one.

I’m writing this from the station now. I don’t know what’s going on. I’m scared. I can’t quit — I need this job. But I feel like I’m being watched, and every night, he gets closer.

I don’t know what he wants, but if you don’t hear from me again, remember this: if you ever see a man in a dark coat standing alone at the last stop, don’t approach him. Just… turn around, and leave.

Because once he sees you, he never stops looking.

And the last stop is closer than you think.