Loop of the Faceless.

A story by Amalia Maria Dobrica.

Chapter 1: The Train Ride Begins

The train was cold. Not the kind of cold that made you shiver, but the kind that settled into your skin, making you feel… off. Like something was wrong, even if you couldn’t explain why.

He sat by the window, hands resting in his lap, fingers twitching like they had a mind of their own. His nails were short and uneven, chewed down too far. His suit felt too tight, the fabric worn thin at the elbows, like he had been wearing it for years. His tie hung loose, the knot sloppy, like he had given up on fixing it.

The train rumbled forward, metal grinding against metal, the sound dull and endless. Outside the window, the world blurred past—dark shapes, dim streetlights, shadows stretching along the tracks. He blinked, trying to focus. Where was he going? The thought hit him like a slap. He had no idea.

He looked around the train car. A few passengers sat scattered in their seats, silent. No one spoke. No one moved. Something was wrong. His stomach twisted as his eyes landed on the woman across from him. A red coat.

Something about it tugged at his mind, like a half-forgotten memory. He knew that coat. He knew her. But when he looked at her face— There was nothing. Just smooth, empty skin. His breath caught in his throat. His pulse thudded in his ears. No eyes. No nose. No mouth. Just a blank, featureless face, like a mannequin. His hands curled into fists. He swallowed hard, glancing at the other passengers. The man was checking his silver watch. The boy swinging his legs. Faceless. All of them. His chest tightened. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. He turned to the window, his reflection staring back. And for just a second— His reflection wasn’t his own.

The train rattled forward. No one moved. No one spoke. And the faceless passengers kept staring.

Chapter 2: The Faceless Passengers

His hands were shaking. He clenched them into fists, pressing them against his legs, trying to steady himself. This had to be a dream. Or maybe he was just seeing things—his brain playing tricks on him. He was tired, that was all. He just needed to close his eyes, take a deep breath, and— He looked again. The woman in the red coat hadn’t moved. Neither had the man with the silver watch. Or the boy with the untied shoelaces.

They sat still, silent, their blank faces turned toward him. His throat tightened. He needed to get off this train. He turned, eyes darting toward the doors. A small screen above them blinked with the next station’s name: Oakridge. He didn’t remember getting on this train. Didn’t remember where he was headed. But Oakridge sounded good. It sounded real. He could step off, shake this weird feeling, and everything would be normal again.

The train began to slow. The brakes screeched against the tracks, sending a dull vibration through the floor. Almost there. Almost—

  The train stopped. The doors slid open. Cold air rushed in. He stood, legs unsteady, ready to run. And then— Nobody moved. Not a single passenger stood up. No one stepped off.

Outside, the platform was empty. No people. No sound. Just stillness. His breath hitched. He turned back to the passengers. They hadn’t moved. Not an inch. Something was deeply, horribly wrong. He took a step toward the doors. Then— A flicker. Just for a second. Like the lights had blinked, or maybe his eyes had. And suddenly— The train was moving again.

His stomach dropped. The station was gone. The doors had closed. He hadn’t stepped off.

The train rattled forward, heading into darkness. And when he looked around— Everyone was still in the exact same place. Like nothing had changed. Like they had been there forever. He backed up, pressing himself against the window. His heart was pounding now, hammering against his ribs. This wasn’t right. It didn’t make sense. He needed to wake up. Or escape. Or something. His eyes flicked back to the woman in the red coat. A deep, twisting feeling clawed at his stomach. Because now, sitting there, staring at her— He realized why she felt so familiar. Not just the coat. Not just the way she sat. Something deeper. Something worse. Because she didn’t just look familiar. She was familiar. And suddenly, he knew. She wasn’t just a stranger. She was him.

Chapter 3: The Loop Begins

His breath came in short, panicked bursts. The woman in the red coat— She was him. Not in the way that people sometimes reminded him of someone. Not in the way strangers could share the same mannerisms or style. No. She was him. Something in the way she sat, the way her hands rested in her lap, the way her fingers twitched—it was all exactly like him. Too exact. Too perfect. His stomach twisted. He turned his gaze toward the man with the silver watch. Same twitching fingers. Same slight hunch in his shoulders. The boy. Same restless leg bouncing. Same nervous energy. No. No, no, no. His brain screamed at him to stop looking, to stop thinking, to stop knowing. Because it was impossible. And yet— The train kept moving. His reflection in the window shifted slightly, almost like it wasn’t just a reflection but something else. Something watching him. The lights flickered. The train slowed. Another station. He didn’t even check the name this time. He didn’t care. He just knew he had to get off. 

The brakes screeched. The doors slid open. Cold air. Stillness. Silence. This time, he ran. He darted forward, heart hammering against his ribs— But the moment he stepped past the doors— Everything went black. For a second, it felt like falling. Like sinking into nothingness. Then— A jolt. A metallic screech. The world rushed back, snapping into place. The train was moving again. He was back in his seat. His hands twitched in his lap. The woman in the red coat sat across from him. The man with the silver watch tapped the glass. The boy’s legs swung lazily above the floor. No one had moved. The train had reset. His body froze. It happened so fast. So smoothly. One second he was running— The next, he was back here. Like he had never moved at all. His skin went ice-cold. His mouth was dry. The train would not let him leave.

He squeezed his eyes shut, gripping his arms so tightly his nails dug into his skin. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. But when he opened his eyes— The train rattled forward. And the faceless people still stared.

Chapter 4: The Mirror Effect

The train rattled forward, the sound of metal against metal grinding into his skull. His breathing was uneven. His hands were shaking. He was trapped. Every time he tried to leave, the world snapped back like a rubber band, throwing him into his seat as if he had never moved at all. The faceless passengers sat still.

But now, he could feel them. They weren’t just there. They were watching. Without eyes, without faces, without anything, they were still watching. He turned to the window, desperate for something normal. For proof that this was all in his head. But the moment his gaze met the glass, his chest tightened. His reflection was wrong. Not just distorted, not just blurred—wrong. His hands twitched in his lap. The woman in the red coat’s hands twitched in the exact same way. His leg bounced, restless, nervous. The boy’s leg bounced, too. He leaned forward, fingers gripping his seat. And so did the man with the silver watch. His pulse pounded in his ears. Slowly, heart hammering, he raised his hand— And in the window’s reflection, they all did the same. At the exact same time. Perfectly in sync. His stomach lurched. The reflections weren’t just mimicking him. They were him. Not just one version. Not just two. All of them. A hundred. A thousand. Sitting across from him. Surrounding him. Trapped with him.

The train jolted. The lights flickered. And for the first time, he heard something— A whisper. Low. Hollow. A voice he knew. His own. “You were never alone.” The lights flickered again. He spun around, eyes wide, scanning the train. But the faceless passengers sat still, unmoving. Like nothing had happened. Like they hadn’t spoken at all. The train rumbled forward. And in the window, their reflection stayed perfectly still. Staring. Waiting. Just like him.

Chapter 5: Memories of Himself

He was losing it. The more he tried to understand what was happening, the less he seemed to know. His mind felt like a tangled mess, memories fading in and out of focus. Things that should have been clear—his name, his job, where he lived—were slipping away, like water running through his fingers. But the train, the passengers, the strange emptiness of it all—they were real. He could feel it in his bones. He could hear the hum of the train beneath him, the rattle of the tracks, the eerie, oppressive silence that hung in the air. But even that felt like a dream. His head throbbed. The ache in his skull was so sharp, so insistent, that he closed his eyes and pressed his palms against his temples.

For a moment, it felt like he was being pulled somewhere else—somewhere distant, far from the train. Flashes of memory. A bright room. A desk. Papers scattered across it. A chair. His reflection in the window, just like now. But this time, the face was his. The tie was crooked, the suit too tight. The eyes were wide, panicked. He could hear the voice again. “You’ve been here before.” The memory was so vivid. It was like a dream, but it wasn’t. He had felt it. He had seen himself, sitting there. But when? The train jolted again, snapping him back to reality. His breath hitched. His fingers tightened around the seat, nails digging into the fabric. That voice. “You’ve been here before.” His reflection in the window shifted again, but this time it wasn’t just mimicking him. It was as if the reflection was trying to speak, trying to reach him. The woman in the red coat. The man with the silver watch. The boy. They weren’t just passengers. They were him. He remembered— The room. The desk. The scattered papers. But he wasn’t alone in the memory. There was someone else with him. Someone who had looked at him the same way the faceless passengers did—like they knew something he didn’t. The memory faded as quickly as it had come, leaving him dizzy and confused. What was happening?

He looked back at the woman in the red coat, his heart racing in his chest. Was she him? She had to be. The man with the watch, the boy—were they all him, too? Different versions? Versions of what? His hands trembled as he reached up to touch the window. A faint tap echoed back. His fingers froze against the glass. For a split second, he felt like he wasn’t touching the glass at all. Like his fingers were touching something else—something cold, something… alive. He jerked his hand back. The faceless passengers didn’t move.

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were watching him, waiting for him to understand something. To remember something. He swallowed hard, pushing the thoughts aside. No. This couldn’t be happening. His reflection in the window stared back at him—more intense now, more alive. You were never alone, it whispered. And suddenly, it hit him. Maybe he wasn’t alone on this train. Maybe… maybe he was never meant to be alone.

Chapter 6: Confronting the Past

The air on the train felt thick now, suffocating. Every breath was heavier than the last, as if the weight of something pressing against him was getting stronger. He couldn’t ignore it anymore. The memories kept coming back, stronger each time, like waves crashing over him. Each one felt real, but each one made him feel more out of place. The faceless passengers—they weren’t just strangers, they were… him. But why?

His hands were clammy, his pulse racing. “You’ve been here before.” The voice echoed in his mind again, chilling him to the bone. It wasn’t just a whisper this time. It was a demand, a question, a truth that was slipping through his fingers every time he tried to hold on to it.

He looked around the train, eyes darting from the woman in the red coat to the man with the silver watch. The boy was still bouncing his legs nervously, his shoes dragging on the floor. But now, when he looked at them— He saw himself. Not just reflections of himself, but pieces of him. His heart pounded. He had to know the truth. Taking a shaky breath, he forced himself to stand.

The train rattled as it picked up speed, but the world outside the window was a blur. It was like they were going faster, farther away from everything. Farther away from answers. Focus. He had to focus. He took a deep breath and turned to the man with the silver watch. He was still sitting there, his fingers tapping against his knee like he was waiting for something. Waiting for him. The man’s face was empty. No eyes. No mouth. Nothing. But the twitching fingers—those were his. Those were the same fingers he kept twitching without his control. His pulse quickened. He couldn’t stay silent any longer. He walked toward the man. Every step felt heavier than the last, but he couldn’t stop.

When he reached him, he bent down, trying to catch the man’s attention. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, the man’s fingers twitched again. And suddenly— He knew. Not the man. Him. The thought hit him like a cold slap. The man wasn’t waiting for anyone. He was waiting for himself. His chest tightened, panic rising in his throat. “You’ve been here before.” The words echoed again, louder this time. But this time, they weren’t just in his head. They were coming from the man with the silver watch. No, not the man. Him. The reflection. The truth.

His mind reeled. He stepped back, stumbling, clutching his head as memories and visions swirled around him. He could see flashes of another life, another time—an office, a desk, stacks of paperwork. He could see himself sitting at that desk, watching the train station, watching the doors open and close. He could hear the sound of his own voice, a voice he hadn’t recognized in so long. “You’ve been here before.” The reflection in the window wasn’t his own. It was another version of him. Another moment, another life. Another failed life. And suddenly, it hit him. The train wasn’t just moving through space. It was moving through time. He wasn’t stuck in one place. He was stuck in a loop. But why? Why him? Why now?

He turned to the woman in the red coat. Her blank face stared back at him, silent, unblinking. But her posture—her hands, her shoulders, her legs—they were all him. His eyes burned. He was starting to understand, but the truth was unbearable. He had been on this train before. And he had never gotten off.

Chapter 7: The Train of Lost Time

The train rattled forward, the endless hum of metal against metal drilling into his skull. He was still here. Still trapped. Still surrounded by faceless versions of himself. But now—now he knew. This wasn’t just a train. It was a loop. A cycle. A prison. And he had been here before. He just couldn’t remember how many times. His breath was shallow, his pulse hammering against his ribs. “You were never alone.” The whisper in the window had been right. Every person in this train—every faceless figure—they weren’t just random versions of him. They were his past selves. The ones who had come before. The ones who had made the same mistakes. The ones who had all sat in this seat, terrified, confused, searching for answers. And just like him, they had tried to escape. And just like him, they had failed. His stomach twisted violently. This couldn’t be real. It felt real, but it couldn’t be. Could it?

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think, trying to make sense of the chaos in his mind. The memories—his job, his life, his past—were slipping through his fingers like sand. He remembered his desk. His paperwork. But no name. No details. Just flashes. Like a broken film reel, skipping and skipping, replaying the same empty scenes over and over. “You’ve been here before.” His hands trembled as he pressed them against the seat. This train wasn’t taking him anywhere. It never had. It never would. It was keeping him here. The thought sent a cold shock through his spine. This wasn’t just a loop. It was a trap. But why? What was it keeping him from? Or worse—what was it keeping him for?

He turned back toward the window. His reflection was still there. Still watching. But now, there was something different about it. Something… wrong. The reflection wasn’t perfectly in sync anymore. It was smiling. And he wasn’t. His blood ran cold. The lights flickered. The train jolted. And the reflection… leaned forward. Closer. Too close. His breath caught in his throat. No. No, no, no. The thing in the glass—it wasn’t a reflection. It was something else. Something that had been waiting for him to realize. “You’ve been here before,” it said again. But this time, the whisper wasn’t hollow. It was mocking. And before he could react— It moved. Not in the glass. Not as a reflection. But out of it. Crawling through the surface like it wasn’t even there. Pulling itself out. Reaching for him.

The world spun. His pulse roared in his ears. And suddenly, he understood. This was why no one ever left. This was why the train never stopped. Because it wasn’t meant to. Because there was no “leaving.” Because when you finally realized the truth— The train took you. And then, it made you part of it. Forever.

Chapter 8: The Last Stop

The thing in the glass pulled itself forward, its movements slow and deliberate, like it had been waiting for this moment. Waiting for him.

The train jolted violently, throwing him back against his seat. The lights above flickered, casting eerie, shifting shadows over the faceless passengers. None of them moved. None of them reacted. Because they already knew. This was what had happened to them. This was why they had no faces. His breath hitched. He scrambled to his feet, gripping the cold metal pole beside him. The world swayed, unsteady, like the train itself was coming apart. The reflection—no, the thing that used to be his reflection—was still crawling out. Its head tilted at an unnatural angle, its lips curling into a smile too wide, too knowing. “You were never meant to leave.” The voice slithered into his ears, soft, patient. It had been waiting for him to realize. Waiting for him to give in. His pulse roared in his skull. No. He wasn’t going to let this happen. Not to him. Not again.

His eyes darted to the train doors. They were shut tight, locked, just like every other time he had tried to leave. But now— Now he understood the rules. The train wasn’t real. Not in the way he had thought. It was a loop. A cycle. A trap. And if it was meant to keep him in, then there had to be a way out. He just had to break the cycle first. The lights flickered again. The thing in the reflection lunged. MOVE. He bolted. The faceless passengers didn’t react. They just sat, silent, waiting, like they already knew how this would end. But he wasn’t them. Not yet.

His hands slammed against the train doors. They wouldn’t budge. He could hear the thing behind him, its breath rattling in the air, too close, too eager. “You’ve been here before.” The whisper curled around him like smoke. “And you’ll be here again.” No. No, he wouldn’t. He refused. His fists pounded against the door. And then— The lights went out. The train plunged into darkness. Silence. Thick. Smothering. Then— A click. His heart lurched. Light. Faint, distant light.

From the cracks in the train door. His fingers scrambled for the edges, pulling, tearing, yanking— And then, suddenly— The doors burst open. Wind roared in. The sound of tracks beneath him rushed up like a tidal wave. The tunnel outside was a blur, endless, stretching into forever. He didn’t care. He didn’t think so. He just jumped. Falling. Falling— And then— Darkness. Cold. Silence. And then— Light.

Chapter 9: Out of the Loop

The first thing he noticed was the cold. Not the sharp, biting cold of wind rushing past him as he fell, but something deeper. Still. Heavy.It pressed against his skin, sank into his bones. Then came the silence. Not the absence of sound, but something unnatural. Like the whole world had stopped breathing.

He forced his eyes open. Darkness. Not pitch black, but dim, like the air itself was thick with shadow. Slowly, he pushed himself up. His hands pressed against something hard, smooth. Concrete. A floor. A station floor. His chest tightened. He was back. Back at a train station. But was it the same station?

He turned his head, trying to make sense of his surroundings. The walls stretched high above him, cracked and covered in grime. Fluorescent lights flickered weakly overhead, casting pale, sickly light onto the empty platform. There was no one else here. No voices. No footsteps. No train. Just him. Alone. His stomach twisted. This didn’t feel right. But it was better than the train. Wasn’t it?

He staggered to his feet, his body aching from the fall. The last thing he remembered was jumping—leaping into the dark, desperate to escape before the thing in the reflection took him. Had it worked? Had he won? A sound. Faint. Distant. A whisper of something moving. His breath caught. He turned sharply, scanning the platform. Nothing. Just emptiness. But he wasn’t convinced. His instincts screamed at him—something was wrong. Then he saw it. A single, old-fashioned clock, mounted high on the wall. The hands were stuck. Frozen. 3:17. A sharp chill ran through him. That time. He had seen it before. On the train. It had been 3:17 every time he checked. Every. Single. Time. A sinking feeling settled in his chest. He wasn’t out. Not really. The train wasn’t just a place. It was a state of being. A loop that never truly ended. And now— Now he was just waiting for the next cycle to start. Waiting for the next train to arrive. Waiting to board again.

His breath turned shaky. No. No, no, no. He had fought too hard. He would not go back. His feet moved before he could think. He ran. Down the platform. Past empty benches. Past old, rusted signs with no words on them. But no matter how far he ran, the station stretched on forever. It wasn’t a real station. It was still part of the loop. The realization hit him like a fist to the gut. “You’ve been here before.” The voice. But this time, it wasn’t in his head. It came from the shadows. From behind him. His heart slammed against his ribs. He turned slowly.

And there—standing at the far end of the platform— Was himself. Not a reflection. Not a faceless figure. But a fully-formed, identical version of himself. Standing completely still. Watching him. Silent. Waiting. His stomach dropped. The loop hadn’t ended. It had just changed. And now, he wasn’t just a passenger. He was part of it.

Chapter 10: The Final Truth

The other him didn’t move. It just stood there, watching. Waiting. His pulse pounded in his ears. This wasn’t just another hallucination. This wasn’t a trick of the mind. This was real. Or at least, as real as anything else in this endless nightmare.

He took a slow step back, his breath shallow. His double didn’t follow. It remained exactly where it was, feet planted on the cold concrete floor, its expression unreadable. But its eyes— Its eyes were wrong. Empty. Not black, not hollow, but deep. Like a reflection in a window at night, showing something just beneath the surface. “You were never supposed to leave.” The voice came from his double’s lips. His own voice. But it was calm. Certain. Final. The kind of certainty that came from something that had already won. He swallowed hard, his mind racing. “No,” he whispered. “I got out.” His double’s head tilted slightly, as if amused. “Did you?” The words sent a chill down his spine.

He turned sharply, looking for an exit—any way out. The station stretched on forever in both directions, empty tracks disappearing into black tunnels that led nowhere. He was still trapped. The train was gone, but the loop remained. And his double was proof of that. A replacement. A new passenger. “You fought hard,” the double continued, voice still eerily even. “You ran. You jumped. You tried to escape.” It took a slow step forward. “But no one ever truly leaves.” The sinking feeling in his gut twisted into something deeper. Darker. His throat felt tight. “What are you?” His double stopped, standing just a few feet away now. “I’m you.” The words made his stomach churn. “No.” He shook his head. “You’re not me.” “I was. Before.” Before. Before what? His mind spun, grasping for an answer. And then— A memory. Faint. Fleeting. But there.

The first time he had been on the train. The first time he had sat in that seat, staring at the faceless figures, feeling that deep, gut-wrenching fear that something was wrong. Hadn’t he seen someone else back then? Another version of himself? Watching. Waiting. And hadn’t he heard the same words? “You’ve been here before.” His chest tightened. That wasn’t just a warning. It was a cycle. A pattern. The same way he had replaced someone before him— Now, it was his turn to be replaced. His double took another step forward. “You fought the train.” Another step. “But the train is only part of it.” Another. “The loop is bigger than that.” His breath hitched. No. No, there had to be a way out. There had to be.

He stumbled back, shaking his head, his body screaming for him to run— But there was nowhere to go. Because deep down, he already knew the truth. The station. The train. The cycle. It was never about escaping. It was about who stayed behind. “Your turn is over.” The double’s voice was almost gentle now. “Someone else will take your place.” His mind reeled, panic clawing at his throat. “No,” he whispered. “It’s already happening.”

He looked down at his hands. And froze. His fingers— They were fading. Not disappearing. Not vanishing into nothing. But becoming smooth. Becoming blank. Just like the faceless figures on the train. A choked breath escaped his lips. His face— His face. He couldn’t feel it anymore. He reached up, fingers trembling, pressing against smooth, featureless skin. No mouth. No nose. No eyes. Just nothing. His stomach twisted violently. “You were never meant to leave,” his double said again, stepping closer, until they were face to face. “You were only meant to become part of it.” The truth crashed down on him. That was why the train never truly stopped. That was why no one ever left. Not really. Because the loop needed passengers. And when one left— Another took their place. “Goodbye,” his double whispered. And as the world around him shattered, as the darkness swallowed him whole, as his own identity slipped from his grasp— He realized.

The next time the train arrived— The next time someone sat in that seat, confused, terrified, desperate for answers— He would be waiting. Just like all the others before him. Just like all the others after. And the loop would begin again.

                      The End