A train that never stopped, many legends and songs had been sung not only in the Great China but all over the world about that supernatural vehicle that seemingly was the invention of some divine beings. There was no earthly existence capable of creating something like that, so very few people used to give credit to those stories that they believed to be unfounded.
Xiao-Min was an old woman in her eighties, and the legend surrounding what would happen that night was something none of her grandchildren would put any faith in, perhaps because of her senile age or the fantastic nature of the stories surrounding that little village. It was a disturbing silent night like few she had experienced in her nearly 17 lustrums of life, certainly the calmest night her aged memory could recall. For Xiao-Min, it was extremely strange not to hear even the noise of the villagers and their mischievous grandchildren who used to play until the wee hours of the morning without paying attention to the dangers of the night.
After having lived through so many vicissitudes and joys alike, Xiao-Min already felt like a fulfilled woman. She never expected that a night so dreary, lonely and sad would be so decisive in her life. As she sat outside her little house, not knowing exactly what to expect, Xiao-min's old but effective ears were able to hear the violent sound of train wheels rubbing against the rails.
The mysterious train finally stopped amidst the thick fog of the bamboo forest and a man dressed in an elegant suit stepped out of the train wagon, the strange feeling that surrounded Xiao-min's body felt as if a cold scythe was cutting through her from her skull to the soles of her feet. Xiao-Min knew she was experiencing something out of this world.
"Your time has ended," He uttered, he was something that Xiao-Min could now visualize as clearly as if her eyesight were full of vigor. She could now see what it really was and had a glimpse of what that situation was truly about. The spectral entity slowly took away Xiao-Min's inert body, leaving behind only a few hot coals as if they were some kind of souvenir representing the fateful night encounter.
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