The Phantom Echoes of Line B: Prague's Subterranean Haunting

The dimly lit corridor stretched endlessly, its walls adorned with the utilitarian chic of old Czechoslovakian architecture. The air was thick with the musk of the subway, a combination of mildew and the faint scent of something else, something less tangible. Line B of the Prague Metro had always been a place of whispers, a place where the sounds of the city above seemed to fade away, replaced by a low hum of a world hidden beneath.

The group of four friends stood at the entrance to the abandoned station, their eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement. They had heard tales of the Phantom Whistle, a sound that echoed through the subway at 2:15 AM, the exact time a tragic love story unfolded decades ago.

"It's not just the sound," said Karel, the leader of the group, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's the feeling. The station itself is haunted. You can feel it in your bones."

Marta, a history buff, nodded in agreement. "There was a woman who fell in love with a soldier. He was sent off to war, and she waited for him every day. But he never came back. They say her ghost haunts this station, her whistle a sign of unfulfilled longing."

The others exchanged glances. Their eyes were filled with determination, but also a flicker of doubt. They stepped into the station, the echoes of their footsteps the only sound that dared to compete with the hushed atmosphere.

The station was eerie, the once bustling place now reduced to a silent ghost. Dust motes danced in the beam of their flashlight, and the walls were marked with the faded graffiti of years gone by. Karel's hand found the old switch, and the station's lights flickered to life, revealing the once vibrant scene of a bustling hub.

"Let's check the old records," Marta suggested. She pulled out her phone, her fingers dancing across the screen as she navigated through the digital archives of the Prague Metro.

The group followed her to a small room at the back of the station, filled with filing cabinets and old documents. They began to sift through the papers, hoping to find any trace of the story they had heard.

Hours passed, and they had found nothing. The records were sparse, and there was no mention of the Phantom Whistle or the woman who had loved a soldier. Desperation began to set in, and they were about to give up when Karel noticed a small, leather-bound book tucked away in the corner.

"Wait, look at this," he said, his voice filled with a mix of excitement and trepidation. He opened the book, and inside was a hand-drawn map of the subway, but with one station marked in red.

"The Red Station," Marta read aloud. "It's never been used. There's no record of it. Maybe it's the Phantom Whistle's source."

The group exchanged excited glances and made their way back to the main corridor. Karel's hand reached for the switch, and they descended the stairs that led to the unknown.

The Red Station was just as eerie as the others, but it had an air of desolation that seemed to press down on them. They wandered through the empty platforms, the echo of their footsteps bouncing off the walls. Suddenly, a sound filled the air, a high-pitched whistling that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

The Phantom Whistle. It was real, and it was haunting them.

"Stay close," Karel said, his voice barely audible. He led the way to a small room at the end of the platform. Inside, they found an old typewriter and a stack of papers.

Karel pulled out a piece of paper, his fingers trembling as he read the words aloud:

"My love, I will wait for you here until the end of time. My whistle is your heart's echo, my soul's call. Find me, and I will find you."

The room was filled with a cold, eerie silence, the only sound the soft rustle of pages being turned. Marta's eyes widened as she read the next page, her voice breaking as she read:

"But time is running out. The subway will be decommissioned, and this place will be lost forever. My last whisper is this: remember me, and find me before it's too late."

The group looked at each other, the weight of the words settling heavily on their shoulders. They knew then that the Phantom Whistle was not just a legend, but a reminder of a love that spanned lifetimes, a love that had not found its final resting place.

As they made their way back to the main station, the Phantom Whistle grew louder, a haunting melody that seemed to reach out to them. They reached the main platform, the echo of the sound fading into the distance.

Karel turned to his friends, his eyes filled with determination. "We have to find her, whatever it takes. She needs us."

And with that, the group set out on a quest to uncover the truth behind the Phantom Whistle, a journey that would lead them to the heart of Prague's subway, and to a love that would endure through the ages.