Ghost Lights The night was heavy with a silence that sent shivers down my spine. I stood alone at the edge of the desolate railroad tracks, a place where no one dared to tread after sunset. My heart raced, a constant thumping that reverberated in my ears. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the distant horizon, where the ghost lights danced. They say the lights were the souls of long-dead railway workers, forever trapped in a spectral purgatory. The first time I witnessed them was a year ago, a foggy night much like this one. I had ventured here with a group of friends, eager to confront the legends we'd heard whispered around campfires. We'd gathered at the tracks, flashlights in hand, boasting about our fearlessness. But when the first glimmers of light appeared on the horizon, we fell silent. The lights swayed and shimmered, beckoning us closer. A strange compulsion gripped us, d
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