Jack knew the line well. Running along the hillside, it cut through a heavily-forested area, clearing briefly to give a stunning view of the valley.
One night as the train passed the clearing, Jack thought he spotted a disused station, Forest Halt, on the opposite side from the view. He wasn't sure, though, it just flashed past.
At the depot, Jack asked about Forest Halt, but no-one had ever noticed it.
Next evening, when Jack's train was on the line again, an ill-timed landslide carried all three coaches down the steep embankment. No-one survived. Forest Halt was never seen again.
Flash fiction is very, very short fiction indeed - short stories of any sort of length from a Haiku to ten minutes' reading. Good for when you're in a hurry. This series is a selection of contributions to Friday Flash Fiction, where there's a limit of 100 words. I try to make all mine exactly 100 words.