The water reached my knees, then my waist, though the bottom remained level beneath my feet. The trees diminished until I could have covered the forest with one hand.
I stopped.
On the far bank, the station stood at its original size. Its lamps shone through the mist, and a train waited beside the platform.
I looked down at the water. My reflection stood on the opposite bank, dry and motionless. It was holding the brass key.
I raised my hand.
The reflection did not move.
Instead, it turned and walked towards the station.
I climbed out of the pool. The forest had become so small that I stepped over its trees without touching them. The station, however, was now enormous. Its platform rose above me like a cliff, and the train windows were tall as houses.
A staircase led to the ticket office.
I climbed it, though each step was no higher than my foot. At the top stood a door with a brass handle. The key fitted it.
Inside was a room furnished with a table, two chairs and a mirror. On the table lay a miniature railway station, complete with a green train and a pool of dark water.
Beside it stood a tiny figure.
I bent closer.
The figure was me, carrying a brass key.
It walked to the pool and stepped into the water. The miniature forest shrank around it. The station grew larger.
I straightened abruptly.
The mirror showed a room larger than the one I occupied. In that room, a man stood at a table, looking down at a miniature station.
He was looking at me.
I raised the key. He raised his hand.
Behind him, I saw a window overlooking the forest. Beyond the window was another room, in which another man stood at another table.
The rooms continued, diminishing into the distance.
I turned away from the mirror.
A second door had appeared in the wall. I opened it and found myself on a railway platform beneath a familiar clock.
10:42.
The green train waited beside me. Its windows were lit, and through the nearest one I saw the woman sitting alone in the compartment. She held a lantern in her lap.
I boarded.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
She looked up.
“Back.”
“To the station?”
“To the beginning.”
I sat opposite her. The train began to move, but the platform remained visible through the window. It grew smaller until it resembled a toy railway set. Then the train itself seemed to shrink, and the platform grew around it.
The woman opened her lantern. The tiny train inside was moving again.
“Which one is the real train?” I asked.
She closed the lantern.
“Which one are you travelling on?”
The window darkened. For a moment I saw only my reflection.
Then the glass cleared, and I saw myself standing beside the pool in the forest, holding the brass key. I was watching a train pass beneath the water.
In the compartment, the woman leaned forward.
“When you reach the station,” she said, “don't get off until you recognise the place.”
“What if I never do?”
She smiled sadly.
“Then you may be there for a very long time.”
The train entered the mist.
On the table between us lay the railway map. I unfolded it carefully.
The circle marked HERE had disappeared.
In its place was a small, black square.
I touched it with my finger.
Somewhere beneath the carriage, water began to run.
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