They say at midnight, at the central station there's a woman who sits on the platform beside the tracks.
And many years ago, her daughter died for she slipped from the platform and fell onto the railroad.
But the story doesn't stop there. They say every midnight, her daughter rises from the tracks and sits beside her on the platform, holding her hand.
We never believed it. For we were a bunch of boys.
We were at that age where we wanted to do something cool and wild.
So one night, we dragged a couple of joints and rode to the station on our bikes.
We were screaming, and laughing our entire way there. We never believed in ghosts, we just wanted to make the most out of it before our high disappears.
We jumped the gate, and walked into the station. And that's when things got quiet.
There was nobody there.
Nobody except a woman on a platform combing her long dark hair. She tilted her head towards us and asked who we are.
Some of us walked closer, but some...stayed far.
We asked her, "Are you the woman who can talk to ghosts?”
She said 'No, I can only talk to my daughter.'
The circles around her eyes were dark as though she's lived through a terrible pain that's ripped her apart.
Then she asks, 'Would you like to see her?'
We exchanged glances with each other and reminded ourselves, ghosts are just stories for toddlers.
And then, she got up. And stepped into the tracks.
She screamed her daughter's name and all of us stepped back.
Then, she silently removed her dress and was wearing a white frock underneath.
She tied her hair into a bun and said, 'I'm here mummy.'
Then, she turned around and looked into our eyes. We ran, and after we made it outside.
Only then did we understand, that to cope with her daughter's death, the mother became the child.
-by Ashwath Sezhian
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