Ilya had always felt a strange connection to the train station. It was a place of movement, energy, and possibility. The constant ebb and flow of people, the hum of trains arriving and departing, it felt like the heart of the city, where all paths crossed. But that evening, something felt different.
As the last rays of the sun dipped behind the horizon, Ilya sat down on his usual bench near the third track, his books spread out in front of him. He had just begun working on his math homework when the sound of soft sobs caught his attention. Looking up, he saw a small figure on the pavement.
A little girl, no more than four or five, sat curled up beside a lamp post. Her teddy bear was clutched tightly to her chest, its worn-out fur a stark contrast to her tear-streaked face. Ilya felt a pang of sympathy. No child that young should be alone, especially at a busy place like this.
He stood up, determined to help. As he walked closer, his mind raced with questions—where was her family? Why was she here alone?
He crouched down in front of her. “Hey there,” he said softly, trying not to startle her. “Are you okay?”
The girl looked up at him, her big, watery eyes meeting his. “I lost my mommy,” she whispered, her voice quivering. “I was waiting for the train with her, but… I don’t know where she went.”
Ilya’s heart sank. “Don’t worry,” he said gently, “we’ll find your mommy. Let me help you.”
But as he extended his hand toward her, something unexpected happened. The ground beneath his feet seemed to tremble slightly, and the faint sound of train wheels screeching on the tracks grew louder. The lights of the station flickered, and for a split second, Ilya felt a strange pull, like the very air around him was thick with anticipation.
Before he could react, the little girl stood up and turned toward him, her face suddenly blank. “You’re not supposed to help me,” she said, her voice eerily calm. “Not yet.”
Ilya froze, his breath catching in his throat. The atmosphere around him seemed to shift, as if time itself had slowed. The girl’s eyes were no longer filled with fear, but something deeper—something old. For the briefest moment, Ilya could have sworn she wasn’t a child at all.
The station seemed to hum with an unsettling energy. Ilya took a step back, his heart racing, unsure of what was happening. The girl turned away from him, and without another word, walked toward the edge of the platform, where the tracks disappeared into the night.
Just as she reached the very edge, she stopped, glancing over her shoulder at Ilya. A slow smile spread across her face, and in that moment, he knew—there was something far more mysterious about this little girl than he had ever imagined.
Before Ilya could say another word, she vanished. Not like she had run away or walked off, but as if the very air had swallowed her whole.
Dazed and confused, Ilya stood there for a long moment, the quiet hum of the train station surrounding him once more. What had just happened? Was it real? And who was she really?
In the distance, the sound of an approaching train echoed through the station, and Ilya found himself, for the first time, wishing he wasn’t so curious about the world. Some mysteries, he realized, were better left unsolved.