Mystery
Consequences
Brent’s eyes fluttered open, his vision blurred and distorted. Rubbing his eyes with a shaky hand, the world around him began to come into focus. He sat facing the plush, velvety seat of a train car. A dimly lit, antique lamp hung above him, shaking slightly as if they were in motion. He tilted his head to the left, where lacey curtains covered a window. Using one finger, he peeped behind the curtains, finding only darkness. They must be in a tunnel, he thought. He must’ve dozed off, fallen asleep, but…why was he on a train? Brent quickly sat up, groping at the suit he was wearing, checking for a phone, a wallet, anything. He had nothing on him except the high-end suit and a pair of dark, brown leather shoes. He checked his wrist, no watch. Why would he board a train with no phone, no wallet, and no watch on his way to a business meeting? Was he on his way to a business meeting? What did he do for work? A million questions started to pour into Brent’s mind. Leaning forward in his seat, he held his head in his sweaty hands and squeezed his eyes shut. “Think! Think!” he commanded himself. He was only sure of three things: his name was Brent, he was 40 years old, and he was on a train.
By Jenna Tomovich3 years ago in Fiction
Runaway Fury
Like a vivid dream mantled in a recliner with a glass half empty. To a startling awaking of a stuttered loud cranking steam engine barrowing down the tracks. They where lost in a since of how they got there. A young Lad and his pet startled by the vision that came into focus. People staggering around to the sound of unfamiliar noises. Gripping the seat they looked down and up at each other. But how was this to be the far clutter of uncertainty. The Lad asked around to see if anyone knew what or how they had got there. But no one would respond for a different language lingered the air. The doors mangled shut and clutter from the luggage filled the floors. It was screaming and unwanted sights that the pet and Lad had opened there eyes to. Not knowing what to do or even having a clue. To the pieces of the puzzle they had to put together one by one. In his front pocket he had a compass ⏱ but the night had just begun. It was twirling round and round with no since in what direction it might go. For the tracks had turns with up and down hill speed . And with every turn came closer to lead into something they never wanted to face. So the young Lad and his pet gathered the passengers and spoke in a calm poetic grace with sign language from what he wanted to try to do. Some could compare his presence and others just starred at him and his pet as they drew a picture of how they wanted to face this troubled time. For each minute passed there heart beat faster and faster on the dime. So he found a broken cart that carried snacks and tea. And used it to bang on the door and to try to pry open it like a key. But it didn't work. It was crushed and mangled and the others just watched and lark. He saw a opening in the glass window above the Know. So he shewed his pet threw it to see what lied ahead for the outlook of the pet's eyes looked like the place had been robbed. The pet came back with a bloody conductor cap in her teeth. Some of the passengers passed out in a since of disbelief. For it was not the answer they wanted to see. But the young Lad kept his chin up and yelled threw the broken glass in grief. Can anyone hear me forever may you speak! Nothing but silence but then a faint voice of turbulence filled the airwaves but sounded bleak. It was in a language one of the passengers could understand. So they moved forward and in a since tried to give a helping hand. They talked vagally back and forth and the elder looked back at the pet and said shew go get me them with her pointer finger. The pet startled a bit but then hopped back threw the opening and there they started to hear a singer come over the intercom. A violin playing with a Italian voice saying clash of clash the lights may seem bleak ... but trust your own instincts as the music faded away. They all looked around like they where in a trans of a time shifted into a cold heartless night. But they began to calm there spirit and fight. The pet came pulling back the injured and battled lone survivor of the front engine. As all the survivors of the train looked forward they saw a glimpse of hope. The young lads pet had gotten the young girl to the door. Though she was whimpering on the floor she frazzled up at the opening in the window. I can't get threw that for its too little and filled with shards of glass. So one by one the elder that spoke her language told the rest of her peers to clear the glass. Then they pulled her threw and covered her wounds with cloth and aided and seeing what she know about what was going on. For as they where chatting the young Lad jumped threw the opening with his dog. Borrowed down the conductors head courters with a plea to fulfill the uncertainty that lied ahead. The Gauges where all sparking. And the handle had been broken that could slow the train to a stop. So he tried anything imaginable to find something to crank the brakes. But this was a locomotive steam engine. And in a since he glanced around him it looked like a fire accorded. For a leak into the firebox from the air pressure being to high may have caused a dangerous backdraft as he assumed was the nature of the incident. Now to only get to what he need to do. Stop the train! He remembered at the whistle stop years ago something about letting down the blow valve to release the steam to slow down the train. But that was no easy task. He checked the water gauge that was still in tack and it was about 50 psi and rising with each mile per minute they where going. So he told his dog shew over to the outside of the train and pull on the lever as hard as you can while I go on the the other side of the train and do the same. The Lad was using all his might not from going insane. But pushing the nozzle open when bam! The other side had opened with steam borrowing out like fire in the winter night smoke. He yelled to himself she got it! As he was still struggling with his nozzle. He Kept pushing down on the nozzle but then remembered lefty lossy righty tighty. So he jammed it to the left and it quickly borrowed out. But perhaps he pushed it a little to hard and went forward hanging off the train. His pup came jumping threw the window like a bat out of hell. Grabbed his leg and kept pulling. As he hanging there lifeless looking at death in his eyes suddenly the train started slowing down and almost in the nick of time. Come about a little over 3 mph he fell into some bushes with his dog next to him. Shrugging off the dirt and leaves they looked up and to see all his wishes became true to what he had done. Saved the passengers from what could of been a different outcome. They all cheered as they came off the train . And for that moment in time he was the hero that day. But they still lost there conductor and he had know recollection of how he even got on that train with his pup. Him and his puppers looked on the side of the train it was called the 6399 Fury. So when he went back into the train he grabbed that conductors hat and learned about Lewis. He then went to his family and handed them his cap back and told the family I had to do this. Me and my pup where there and seen the things we couldn't explain or know what went on. But I know your husband was a great man and his work will carry on. So as the day turned into night he woke up with a glass full and the young Lad was older still with his pup beside him. For he was a conductor now moving from one town to the next. for just a dream he envisioned turned out to be his destiny.
By Blake Robert3 years ago in Fiction
Runaway Train
Jack opened his eyes wearily. His head was fuzzy; his vision blurred. He sat still for a moment, allowing his consciousness to return. He was sitting in a train; an old-fashioned inter-city train to be precise. The carriage was empty except for an elderly gentleman sitting opposite him. The fellow was plump, with short white hair and a trimmed beard. He wore a newsboy-style hat and was reading a newspaper. It was dated February 2nd, 1981 and there was an article about a fatal car crash on the front page.
By Jason Sultana3 years ago in Fiction
You’ve Gotta Save My Soul
Winter 1988 The bar beckoned Goods Blaylock. He ordered a whiskey and water. His red trilby hat absorbed the smoke from the cigarettes and cigars in the train car. It didn’t matter. It already smelled of booze and ashes. A cutaway starched, white shirt fit him to a T. His tie showed paisley in blue and gold and a full Windsor knot. A navy blue suit jacket and freshly pressed steel gray trousers and brown wingtips completed the ensemble. Blaylock, brown skin with a short, cropped Afro underneath the hat, sat and contemplated how he made $50,000 the day before for his work.
By Skyler Saunders3 years ago in Fiction
TRACKS. Top Story - July 2022.
Chapter One Rapping. Tapping. Rhythmic beats between steel and wood slowly stir me from my slumber. I open my eyes to find my face planted against a window. I look to the table to reassure myself that my bag is where I left it. It is. My cellphone has no service, though. Perfect. I’m immediately greeted by a piercing headache and wince in pain. My left hand reaches around my head, in search for the source. I feel something brittle and pull it from my matted scalp. Dried Blood.
By Sarah Faith Ethridge3 years ago in Fiction
Panic, She Wrote
Date: Unknown Time: Unknown I awoke to find myself slouched on the floor of some barren train car; my head throbbing with each screech of the wheels hitting the metal below. I found my hands pressing against my forehead, pulling it back down the second I felt something moist once my fingertips touched the crown. I had to blink a couple times to see once again, still a bit blurry but at least I was able to see a bit clearer.
By 'Lissa Stufflestreet3 years ago in Fiction
My Runaway Train
MY RUNAWAY TRAIN 1911, Somewhere in England I open my eyes. What’s sounding like a lullaby humming in my ears? As my head clears I realize it isn’t a lullaby—it’s the sound of the wind in the trees as the noisy train I’m on rushes by. But where exactly on this train am I? I’m lying flat in the open, the cold, darkening diamond sky above me. My neck aches when I try to lift my head, so I reach up a hand to the railing and eventually manage to pull myself to my feet; all goes blurry again as my head swims. I blink rapidly as if that will help, and try to survey my surroundings. I must have been unconscious somehow but I can’t remember what happened before I found myself here. I brush some red curls out of my face and turn towards the sound of the engine, deciding I must be on the caboose at the very back. Suddenly I’m scared nearly out of my skin, which must have somehow brought back my bearings. In front of me, leaning over the railing with his hand poised as if ready to grab onto something, is a boy—silent and still. Cautiously I step over to him. His face looks like he has just had some kind of fright.
By Misty Rumsley3 years ago in Fiction
Conduct
Claman Height awakened. He had no ticket because he was conducting the train. It barreled around the bends with a velocity bordering on the speed of sound. With fear coursing through his veins, he knew that he had to find a way to slow this rocket on rails down to a proper speed. He summoned the attendants. No response. His fellow conductor was not in the control room with him. Panic colored his black skin.
By Skyler Saunders3 years ago in Fiction
Control. The Train Wreck Of Life
The steady rocking of the train vibrated and rocked my body as I struggled to wake up. A heavy fogginess weighed heavy, and I strained to regain focus on my surroundings. The light from the window help bring me around and I surveyed the room trying to piece together where I was and how the hell did I get here?
By Patricia K Wheaton3 years ago in Fiction
