The Train

 by Grace King-Matchett

The Train

 
          The train was old, but still in seemingly good condition. It was painted green. And its
wheels gave magnificent squawks of protest whenever it came to a stop by the old
platform covered in overgrowth.
          At least, that’s what everyone else had told me. I hadn’t ever seen the train for
myself, although I really wanted to.
          Everyone said that even if the train had once had a schedule, it sure didn’t have one
now. It came and went as it pleased. My older sister said she had seen it six times in
one year once, before I was born, and my great-uncle said that he only saw it one time
in the span of twenty-five years.

          “You can’t just hope for the train,” he said, spitting on the ground. “Bah! I spent those twenty-five years hopin’ and hopin’ for it to show up, and
I only ever saw it once. The train knows when you’re hopin’ for it, Zuxa, and it spites you.” 

          Nonetheless, I hoped for the train to come anyway.
          No one was quite sure where the train had come from, or where it was going when it
left our town. Nobody even knew if it had a driver or if there was some other force
entirely that was controlling it. There were no other towns nearby for it to stop at, as far
as we knew—then again, nobody was going to leave to find out. We were perfectly
content to stay where we were.
          Much like the habits of the train itself, sometimes we of the town talked about the
train a lot, and sometimes we hardly talked about it at all. We usually talked about the
train the most right after someone had seen it—sharing our speculations and thoughts
about its journey.
          Although the train was a topic shrouded in mystery, one thing about it was certain:
no one had ever gotten on it. Everyone was too afraid of what might happen. The older
people said it was dangerous to leave the town, and perhaps it was. I certainly didn’t
know. I just believed the words that everyone else fed me.
          But there was a little tiny piece inside me that longed for something more than only
trust in people’s words. I wanted to see this fantastical train so badly. I wanted to at
least know for myself that what I had been told was, indeed, true.
          I was sitting by the old abandoned platform one day, thinking about all of this,
absentmindedly petting one of the village cats. Sighing, I stood up, savouring the last
few minutes of being outside—for my mother was sure to call for me soon, “Zuxa, Zuxa!
Come and eat!”—and looked around my surroundings.
          The sunlight was filtering through the green canopy of vines and leaves that had
woven itself over the train station buildings. Every time I came here, it never failed to
amaze me how green this place was. Stories handed down through the generations told
that this old platform had been barren long ago—desolate—but now it was overflowing
with overgrowth. It was wonderful.
          Letting out a long breath, I dusted off my skirt, gave the cat one final scratch, and
began turning to make my way back to my house, which was only a minute or two
away.
          And then I heard it.
          Screeching. Grinding. Chugging.
          I whirled back around in disbelief.
          There it was, right before my very eyes.

          Old, but still in miraculously good shape. Painted a vibrant green, with rust toying at
the edges. Screeching to a stop—squawking in protest, indeed—at the edge of the
platform.
          The train.

Artist Credit: Eddie Mendoza

Congratulations Grace!

This is such a beautiful story, Grace! You perfectly captured the magical, yet mysterious tone of the picture prompt with gorgeous imagery and a heartfelt writing style. So simple, yet so lovely and magical. Although short, you made use of every single word, and the story still has a distinct beginning and ending, making the story feel complete. From the moment I started reading, I felt myself get swept up in all the hope, the longing, and the whimsical mystery of the story you so carefully crafted. You definitely succeeded in both transporting me to a different world, and also giving me a story to still think about even after it has finished.  

Thank you for sharing this story Grace, and congrats on winning the contest! 

And thank you to everyone else who submitted for December's Picture Prompt Contest! There were many wonderful submissions and I had a blast reading them all! It's an honor to be able to read your work, so thank you so much for submitting.

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