📍 Based on the same person’s experience, two years later — this time, on a different train… but the same presence returned.
📖 The Next Journey:
Two years passed.
I had almost forgotten that night. Almost convinced myself it was a dream — a hallucination due to stress or sleep deprivation.
Until June 2008, when I had to travel again… from Varanasi to Lucknow, in the same line, but in the opposite direction.
This time, it was Train No. 14263 — the Varanasi Intercity.
I boarded at Manduadih Station, around 8:10 PM.
Everything was fine… until the train crossed Mariahu station.
That’s when the temperature inside the coach suddenly dropped. Even though it was summer, my hands felt icy.
I thought it was the AC vent.
But then…
I saw him again.
🕯️ He Was Already Sitting There:
Not walking in.
Not entering through the gate.
No footsteps.
No motion.
Just… sitting. Right beside me.
Same black clothes. Same expressionless face.
Only this time,
He was already looking at me.
His head turned slowly, unnaturally.
“Agle bar fir milenge… yaad hai na?”
(“I told you we’d meet again… remember?”)
My breath stopped. My voice died.
But he continued:
“Ab tu mere saath utarega.”
(“Now… you’ll get down with me.”)
🚉 The Vanishing Station:
The train slowed down.
But the conductor said, “There’s no stop here.”
I looked out the window.
There was a station platform.
But no nameboard.
No people.
No lights.
Just… rows of dark silhouettes, standing silently — not facing the train, but turned away, like they were waiting for something behind them.
And then…
He stood up.
“Time’s up,” he whispered.
🩸 The Blood Trail:
I ran.
Coach to coach. Breathless.
I locked myself in the train’s toilet.
But even there, the foul smell of burning hair filled the air.
And when I opened the mirror above the sink…
There was a red handprint on my neck.
I didn’t feel it touch me…
But it was there.
Fresh.
Wet.
Dripping.
📿 The Return:
I don’t travel by train anymore.
And I’ve changed cities.
But sometimes, on dark nights — between 3 and 4 AM — I hear train horns.
Even though there are no tracks near my new home.
And twice…
I’ve woken up with the mark on my neck again.
Fresher than before.
I think he’s not bound to trains anymore.
Now… he rides with me.
⚠️ Note from CurseIndia:
This continuation was submitted in a follow-up mail from the same reader. The identity remains anonymous. All descriptions are published as received — with no edits made to the core experience.
If you’ve ever seen someone on a train who stared too long and didn’t blink… you may want to check if they left something behind.
🙏 Disclaimer:
We deeply respect all cultural beliefs. Any names, places, or elements are part of fictionalized horror inspired by reader submissions. If this story offends anyone unintentionally, we offer our sincere apologies.
👻 Do You Still Hear The Train Horn After Midnight… Even When There’s No Track Nearby?
If someone ever whispered to you on a train and then vanished…
If you saw a face in the glass that wasn’t yours…
Write to us. Share it. Before it returns.
📧 Send your real horror story to:
👉 cursedindia@gmail.com
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✍️ Story Submitted By: Same Anonymous Source (Continued)
📍 Location: Varanasi to Lucknow Route
🗓️ Year: 2008
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