Our town has many graveyards. We have one for the people who have died. We have one for buildings that have fallen down. We have one for the cars that were destroyed. We have one for the people who burned. And we have one for trains. Just a few trains, some with lines of char staining the sides of the metal, some newer and without signs of burn. 

The dead trains still lie on dead tracks. Lines of melted railroad tracks that begin at the outskirts of town and extend outwards towards the mountains, the trains there sitting dormant and hidden by trees. It took the place of an old railroad that was being built that was originally supposed to connect Rias to the Rockies, but the 1862 fire halted that before any meaningful progress could be made. Nobody who was working on the railroad lived to tell how long it extended before it was discontinued—it’s rumored all of those people died in the fire, too. 

I’m a railroad operator, and having just heard of the graveyard, I felt compelled to visit it. Due to its distance from Rias, it was seldom seen, and no roads led in that direction. Just dirt, then tracks, then trains. 

I had arrived after a long trek on foot and quickly noticed the graveyard was circled with trees, and I had a great number of trains to choose from. I chose an old black-charred passenger train, one that had apparently been through the great fire. Finding a place to board, I stepped on. 

Immediately I smelled the stench of smoke. My flashlight told me there was nothing occupying the stale train compartment air, but I smelled the distinctive odor of smoke anyway. I assumed it was the remaining char from the fire, so I proceeded anyway, flashlight in one hand and the other covering my nose. 

Moving closer to the engine, I passed by a number of seats. All were apparently made of some kind of soft material, but their old color was lost, replaced by the sinister black of soot. I had half expected to see old signs of people in them, like a lost bag or an indentation in the seat, but nothing was to be found. Just blackened train seats. 

I wandered down the middle of the aisle towards the next car and saw more of the same. I tried uncovering my nose for a second to inspect things, but the smell was still overpowering, and I would quickly replace my hand. 

But as I got closer to the engine compartment the air grew hotter. Each passenger car looked practically identical, but everything was growing hot. It was night outside, I knew, which is why in particular the heat was so off putting. But every time the uncharacteristic warmth intensified I would try and look outside the windows, try and make sure I wasn’t seeing or feeling things that weren’t there, the windows would always be coated with the black soot. I was isolated. 

Around three cars away from the engine I began to hear something. A low sound, almost not there at all, that sounded like clamoring voices coming from ahead. And when I placed my hand on the wall to proceed into the next car I noticed that the steel was hot. Not warm, but hot. Too hot to touch. 

I jerked my hand away from the wall and stood there for a moment, pondering whether or not to continue. But, I told myself I could always leave when I wanted to, and what I was experiencing wasn’t yet outside the realms of possibility. The sounds could be an animal that took refuge in the years that succeeded  this train’s death, the smoky smell could be the remaining char on the walls. But I couldn’t explain the heat. 

In the car before the engine I noticed something else. There was a soft warm glow, reddish orange, peeking out from below the engine room door and just barely illuminating my car. I turned off my flashlight to gaze at it bewilderedly, taking in the bizarre sight. Nobody has been on this train in the 100 years since its death in the great fire. By no means should the furnace be on. When I had entered the train, there was no smoke or steam emitting from the smokestack at the engine’s top. 

And I had also noticed that the strange voices were growing louder. 

In a swift movement, I gripped the door handle and pushed the engine room door open. The voices immediately stopped.

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But what I heard and saw in their place was far worse. The engine room was sweltering, and at its far center there was the abnormally wide furnace, fully on and blazing with fire. It seemed as if the entire room had bent and warped around the furnace, stretching it further away in the room than should be possible. And the fire. It crackled, tongues of flame licking the rims of the furnace, hot embers floating in the air before fizzling out. The flames looked as if they briefly made screaming faces in the inferno, every aspect of the furnace looked inexplicably sinister. And when I leaned down, I saw that the furnace looked as if it had no end. I couldn’t see the other side of the furnace, the flames looked as if they stretched on infinitely. 

And then, there was a shuddering movement beneath me. I heard the distinguishable creak of a train jerking forward as it began to move, and then the repeated, accelerating chug of the wheels on a track. I felt the movement inside of the train, and it was undoubtedly moving forward. 

I immediately began to run out of the engine room, but a loud SNAP of wood cracking in fire stopped me. I looked back at the furnace and the fire looked as if it had grown. It was pushing its way out of the furnace and into the room, expanding further and further, the ghostly faces in its flames accentuating themselves more and more. 

I sprinted down the halls as fast as my legs would allow, and I felt the train growing faster and faster. I had forgotten the idea of blocking my nose from the smoke as I ran, and the overpowering stench took my breath away. There was a whistle from outside, deafeningly loud. It sounded like a train whistle, but more like an imitation—it sounded much more like a scream. 

The ghostly voices were practically yelling from behind me, and I turned around to see it. 

From the engine room, the fire from the furnace had taken shape into a being. It was human, but not. I heard every variety of voices emitting from the creature. It had eyes and a mouth, dark spots in the fire that warped and changed by the second, its faces switching, swapping and disappearing. It took up all of the train compartment behind me, having to lean down to properly fit inside. 

The metal I touched was scorching, the air itself was burning. Every breath of fiery smoke singed my lungs. The train was accelerating faster and faster, the chugs repeating themselves quicker than should be possible, shaking the train. I sprinted away from the creature behind me, and when it talked it screamed, a burning echo of crackles and voices. Now in the charred seats I could see imprints of people occupying each one. Where there was previously just char, there would be a person-shaped gap in every seat, of every shape and size. The imprints seemed to move as I passed as if the invisible people who occupied them were reaching out for me. 

I ran for what felt like forever, before realizing that I had ran through far more cars than I had on the way in. The train just kept on going as it turned on tracks that shouldn’t exist, twisting and winding towards the mountains. I could never see beyond the next car because the train just kept turning, and there was never a place to leave the train. No area to step off, nothing. 

Until, in a sickening movement, the train seemed to hit a straightaway. One by one, the cars in front of me aligned in a straight line, and I noticed that the train was truly infinite. Each car aligned themselves with mine, an infinite series of burnt seats and imprints of people. It never ended. 

Behind me the fire creature still burned the cars it passed over, so I had no choice but to keep running, But now the seats were beginning to fill themselves. Where there used to be just imprints there were now real people, their skin and image darkened and reddish, flashing in and out of existence. And one of them grabbed my arm, a woman with abnormally long hair. 

When I looked into her face, I saw that it was hollow. Inside of her mouth and eyes was a glowing red flame, emitting out into the car. I screamed, tearing myself away, and saw a window over an empty row of seats. It was still coated in char, but I ignored it and kicked through it, shattering the glass. The world seemed to be whizzing away outside, but I steeled myself and leaped through. 

And I found myself on damp grass outside the still train. 

All was silent, the smoky smell was gone. Cool summer air filled my nose and mouth as I lay, heart pumping, gasping quickly. I was in the train graveyard as usual, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary whatsoever. There were no voices coming from the train, no glowing red light, no hollow, ghostly figures with a fiery glow replacing their being and emitting from their shell. 

But the smell of smoke still lingered on my clothing, too real to be ignored. My skin still felt warm from the sweltering air inside, and the burns I had received from the scorching metal still stung my skin. I had no choice but to push myself up and sprint home, never gazing at the train again.