It was half past two at night. Silence lay heavy everywhere. Only the distant whistle of a train and the occasional barking of dogs broke the stillness. Arko stood beside his window, unable to sleep. For three nights in a row, he had been seeing the same dream—an old railway station, an empty platform, and someone calling out to him.
"Arko… come back…"
The voice was feminine, but cold… unnaturally cold.
He closed his eyes, trying to remember—had he ever seen that station before? Had he been there once? But nothing came to mind.
Suddenly, his phone rang.
An unknown number.
Who would call at this hour?
He answered slowly. There was no voice on the other side… only a faint rushing sound, like wind.
Then—
"You will come… won't you?"
The line went dead.
A chill ran down Arko's spine.
The next morning, he made a decision—he had to find that station.