“The midnight train always takes you where you need to go, which isn’t always where you want to go.” That’s what was written on the ticket dad sent me.

The ride home lasts an hour. At this time of night there’s nobody here but me and the conductor. He stands behind a tinted window, where I slide my ticket for him to punch. I plop my bags in the back seat so that the conductor can’t find an excuse to talk to me. I’d rather not talk to anyone tonight.

As the train moves, the aisle lights grow dimmer until they’re as dark as the night. The sound of rain against the windows and the rumble of the engine don’t help me sleep. My hands are shivering and my back trembles. The train itself is pleasantly warm, but I’m still too cold to sleep. My heart thumps in my chest, as if it’s trying to start a fire inside me. Anything to warm me, but nothing. I only have an hour before I’m home.

I rummage around my bag to find anything that might keep me from freezing. Extra clothes or even a computer. It seems I’d abandoned everything important behind in my old dorm room. All I thought to carry were some papers and writing supplies. I checked my phone. Maybe I can call Debra to pick up my things. Thirty six new text messages from my dad. I turn off my phone. Right now, I’d rather not look.

I can feel the train slowing down. My heart races as I assume I’ve already made it home, but according to my watch only twenty four minutes have passed. The train becomes silent. The sound of the rain has stopped. I look outside the windows, white snowflakes fall gently. We still seem to be in the middle of nowhere. As I tread down the aisle to ask the conductor why we have stopped my shoes plop onto the snowy ground. The air has become freezing and dry. Confused, I quickly look around, but there’s nothing. Somehow, without notice, the train slipped out of existence. Nothing remains except tracks running through a white forest.

In the distance stands the conductor, who begins walking toward me. It’s still too dark to see his face as he speaks to me in a loud but chilled voice.

“The midnight train runs for people like you Milly. No matter where the train claims to go, this is the last stop.”

“What’s going on? I just want to go home!” I yell.

“No Milly.” he replies. “You’re too scared to go home. That’s why the train chose you. That’s why you’re here, with me.”

The conductor walked into the moonlight, and I saw his face for the first time in three years.

“Welcome home, Milly,” said my father.