Last Train to Ventnor


The weekend didn’t turn out as I expected…or wanted.

My nightmare…how I wish it’d been just that …began on a visit to the Isle of Wight.

My Aunt Dora had died two weeks previously and I had been asked, as her favourite nephew, to make arrangements for her funeral.

I arrived on Fridays last boat at around midnight. The Pier head was deserted except for a red train ticking over… waiting.

I appeared to be the only passenger although the lights were dim. There may have been someone…a lady I think…sat in a dark corner of the carriage.

The train moved silently down the pier passing through a crowded station. Those waiting seemed oblivious of our presence.

My spine turned to ice.

The carriage began to rattle as it hurtled through shrouded countryside.

Brading appeared and disappeared as did Sandown.

The lady in the shadows stayed motionless.

I saw the next station was Shanklin, where I’d been told to disembark.

The train slowed.

I rose to leave.

The shadowy figure didn’t flinch.

The train increased speed.

It rattled along.

I was numb with fear.

The train slowed. and gently drew to a halt. I fell in my haste to leave .

A bony hand lifted me to my feet

“I told you ghosts existed.”
“What...who…”
“Why, dear don’t you recognise your old Aunt Dora. You were always a clumsy little boy”

I looked round. She’d vanished…as had the station. I ran down a steep hill colliding with a policeman


“Now then sir have you been drinking?” he said grabbing my arm.

“No…No… I’ve just got off the train and I was in a rush.”

“Train?. Now I know you’re drunk. The last train to Ventnor was twenty years ago… to the date I believe”



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