The first-class compartment of the train felt like any other, with worn chairs and little illumination, but the affluent man sat by himself. The fine fabric of his suit stuck to his skin cruelly, and his expensive watch felt heavy on his wrist. The world outside the train was a whirl of blackness, reflecting how he felt inside—a guy whose every material need had been met but whose spirit remained empty.
His name was Richard, a name synonymous with power, success, and opulence. That meant nothing to him, though. Nothing, not even the empire he had constructed or the fortune he had accumulated, could satisfy the yawning hole inside of him.
Gorgeous and half his age, his wife was more ornamental than a companion. He knew she cheated on him, but the façade of their marriage had to be maintained for the sake of appearances. His children, teenagers now, treated him like a walking ATM. They didn’t see him, only what he could give them. In their eyes, he didn’t exist beyond the gifts, the vacations, and the limitless credit cards.
That's the reason he ended up on this train, an odd, out-of-time vehicle that seemed to draw him in when he was wandering the streets late that evening, avoiding his house for a little alone time.
It made no difference where the train was going, even though Richard didn't know. All he wanted was to be anywhere, anyplace, but in his current location.
As he settled into the compartment, Richard noticed something odd. Despite its luxurious veneer, the train seemed strangely outdated, like a relic from a bygone era. The flickering lights cast long shadows, and the rhythmic clatter of the wheels on the tracks sounded distant, almost dreamlike. There were other passengers, but they were scattered, silent; their faces turned away as though lost in their own worlds. None of them seemed to care that he was there.
The train wasn’t just a place to escape—it was a mirror, reflecting his hollowness back at him. Every turn of the wheels echoed the emptiness he felt. But something in the air shifted as the train moved deeper into the night, and slowly, the memories that haunted him began to surface.
Richard's thoughts drifted to his youth, long before wealth and status. He had been full of ambition then, hungry for success and hopeful for love and meaning. But somewhere along the way, he had lost himself in the pursuit of power. His business had flourished, but the cost had been his soul.
As the train lurched forward, Richard’s compartment door creaked open, and an old man stepped in. His presence was eerie, his face hidden beneath a wide-brimmed hat. Without a word, the stranger sat across from Richard and gazed at him, his eyes hollow yet piercing.
“You have everything, but nothing,” the old man said in a voice that sounded like it had travelled through centuries.
Richard’s heart skipped a beat. The stranger’s words struck him like a hammer.
“Who are you?” Richard asked though part of him feared the answer.
The old man leaned forward, his eyes locking onto Richard’s. “I am what you are becoming—a man who built walls so high, no one can see inside. And now you’re trapped. Richard wanted to deny it, but the truth was undeniable. He had spent so long constructing a life of perfection, of wealth, that he had forgotten how to be anything else. He had become a prisoner of his own success, a hollow shell whose every movement was dictated by others’ expectations.
The train stopped suddenly, but the door didn’t open. Instead, the windows darkened, and Richard felt the presence of others—people he recognised but who weren’t there. His wife’s voice echoed in the small compartment, followed by the sounds of laughter—her lover’s laughter. His children’s indifferent words, their demands for more, more, more, layered over each other like a cacophony of neglect.
His wife, young and beautiful, materialised before him, her lips moving, but her words carried no warmth. She laughed cruelly, mocking him. Then came his kids, lining up beside her. Their eyes were glazed with entitlement and avarice, and they didn't even glance at him. With each reproach and contemptuous look, their words pierced him more deeply than blades.
In this twisted vision, he realised the truth. They didn't see him. He was invisible to them—a provider but not a person. And he has permitted it for years. They had never built anything with him, but he had centred his entire existence around them. His money had taken precedence over his affection and his desire for connection.
Richard felt a weight lift from his chest as the picture faded. It was the clarity of knowing where he genuinely stood, not the sadness or the fury. He was only a resource to the family he had sacrificed everything for. In his personal life, he was a ghost.
Richard noticed a younger version of himself reflected in the window as the train carried on, standing on an ancient station's platform. He thought back to that man—the one with so much hope and dreams. But the more he examined, the more he saw that the guy he had become was still redeemable.
With a gentler tone, the elderly guy next to him spoke once more. "The question is, will you get off this train and find yourself again, or do you want to continue on as you are?"
Richard paused. The thought of walking away meant giving up everything, including his marriage, his fortune, and his meaningless life. However, it also meant facing uncertainty and going somewhere where he might feel again and be accepted for who he was rather than what he could offer.
Richard stood as the train approached its next stop. His gaze was followed by the elderly man, who seemed to be asking a silent query. Would he return to his golden cage or would he leave behind the life that had imprisoned him?
Richard took a long breath and decided.
With a gentle hiss, the doors opened, allowing Richard to exit the midnight train and enter the dimly lit station. It didn't matter that he didn't know where he was heading for the first time in a long time. Instead of fleeing his life, he was taking steps in the direction of something fresh and genuine.
The train vanished into the haze behind him, carrying the remnants of his meaningless life with it. He was going to take this voyage on his own terms, whatever was ahead. For the first time in a long time, he felt something spark within him: hope. He had been given the opportunity to change his fate and regain his life.
The midnight train had shown him the truth: wealth, status, and power were meaningless without connection, without love. And now he was ready to find the things that truly mattered.
As the fog swallowed him up, Richard disappeared into the night, leaving behind the hollow man he had once been.
