The railway clanked menacingly as she stared across it. Trains came through this dusty old town fairly regularly, so she wasn’t much concerned. She was more concerned with what was on the other side, having just dashed into the dark forest moments before. She had caught merely a glimpse, having been lost in her own world as she sidled along the train tracks. A very tall, thin person – or thing – had just dashed into the forest, seemingly out of nowhere. She remembered Paula Small’s warning a few weeks before, “The bad people live in the forest. Don’t go in there, whatever you do.” She considered this as the train approached closer and closer to where she stood. The clanking increased to a fairly loud din as she considered who such a very thin person – or creature – could be, if they were indeed one of the “bad people,” and what business they had darting into the forest. Nothing or no one else was around; she was further out from town now, having been wandering aimlessly for several hours. The train was nearly caught up to her now; she backed away to escape some of the noise as she watched it’s approach. In that moment she had made her decision: she would go in and investigate.
C
I followed the railway. I wanted to travel as far as I could see. Maybe then I would be far away enough. Or close enough to something good.
Seven letters long. Has to do with trains. There was a man standing beside the railway. Another man came up and pushed him onto it. He was hit by the train. The end.
MissNinjaDuck
Railways. Pieces of metal attached with wood. For trains mostly. Or at least I think. I’m not sure. Wow, 60 seconds goes by fast. I’m such a slow writer! But I will conclude my thought now!
Gary Valencia
She sat waiting on the rotting bench, ignoring the wetness of the wood seeping through her close. The railway lay before her, but it was not taking her anywhere.
Monica Murray
The railway was crowded with the travelers, their ragged clothes hanging off their ragged bodies in shreds. They shuffled forward with heavy, tired steps until a small boy stumbled out of the queue.
Emily
Through the tracks and through the snow we tread. The horizon is tinted gray with specks of ash. Where will we end up?
By train was the best way to get around, he’d figured that out long ago. The tracks of the railway rocked him into a sleep, into a meditative mindset, into a peace he never knew anywhere but on a rolling, rocking train. He stood between cars, the door to the world open and fresh, hot air whooshing in. Across from him, a man smoked a cigarette, then flicked the butt out into the wet bright day.
Balancing carefully, one foot strategically placed in front of the other, Darryl slowly lifted his arms like a little boy set to fly. Only this time, there was no fake cape tied around his neck, and there were no silly dreams of ever being powerful. The only power he had now was in his decision to end it. And so he played the tightrope game one last time, waiting for the steam engine to come.
They approached the railway. It was three little boys, all under five, and them, the caregivers. They wondered if they have been crazy to go on this trip. It had seemed like a good idea when it was first suggested. But planning is actually much different than doing.
The railway tracks curved and ran out of sight into the mountains beyond. The track was shining and weed-free; clearly the train was still in use. She stood on the embankment above, weighing her options.
Path of life is like a railway. It looks straight, long and easy to be walked upon. But in real life, railway is not that easy. But remember, even in the hardest journey, we can see extraordinary view. Just like our path of life.
The railway clanked menacingly as she stared across it. Trains came through this dusty old town fairly regularly, so she wasn’t much concerned. She was more concerned with what was on the other side, having just dashed into the dark forest moments before. She had caught merely a glimpse, having been lost in her own world as she sidled along the train tracks. A very tall, thin person – or thing – had just dashed into the forest, seemingly out of nowhere. She remembered Paula Small’s warning a few weeks before, “The bad people live in the forest. Don’t go in there, whatever you do.” She considered this as the train approached closer and closer to where she stood. The clanking increased to a fairly loud din as she considered who such a very thin person – or creature – could be, if they were indeed one of the “bad people,” and what business they had darting into the forest. Nothing or no one else was around; she was further out from town now, having been wandering aimlessly for several hours. The train was nearly caught up to her now; she backed away to escape some of the noise as she watched it’s approach. In that moment she had made her decision: she would go in and investigate.
I followed the railway. I wanted to travel as far as I could see. Maybe then I would be far away enough. Or close enough to something good.
train tracks like veins of the earth
you are my blood that sings
and finds its way home
Seven letters long. Has to do with trains. There was a man standing beside the railway. Another man came up and pushed him onto it. He was hit by the train. The end.
Railways. Pieces of metal attached with wood. For trains mostly. Or at least I think. I’m not sure. Wow, 60 seconds goes by fast. I’m such a slow writer! But I will conclude my thought now!
She sat waiting on the rotting bench, ignoring the wetness of the wood seeping through her close. The railway lay before her, but it was not taking her anywhere.
The railway was crowded with the travelers, their ragged clothes hanging off their ragged bodies in shreds. They shuffled forward with heavy, tired steps until a small boy stumbled out of the queue.
Through the tracks and through the snow we tread. The horizon is tinted gray with specks of ash. Where will we end up?
By train was the best way to get around, he’d figured that out long ago. The tracks of the railway rocked him into a sleep, into a meditative mindset, into a peace he never knew anywhere but on a rolling, rocking train. He stood between cars, the door to the world open and fresh, hot air whooshing in. Across from him, a man smoked a cigarette, then flicked the butt out into the wet bright day.
“What is your good name?” the man asked him.
Balancing carefully, one foot strategically placed in front of the other, Darryl slowly lifted his arms like a little boy set to fly. Only this time, there was no fake cape tied around his neck, and there were no silly dreams of ever being powerful. The only power he had now was in his decision to end it. And so he played the tightrope game one last time, waiting for the steam engine to come.
They approached the railway. It was three little boys, all under five, and them, the caregivers. They wondered if they have been crazy to go on this trip. It had seemed like a good idea when it was first suggested. But planning is actually much different than doing.
The railway tracks curved and ran out of sight into the mountains beyond. The track was shining and weed-free; clearly the train was still in use. She stood on the embankment above, weighing her options.
Path of life is like a railway. It looks straight, long and easy to be walked upon. But in real life, railway is not that easy. But remember, even in the hardest journey, we can see extraordinary view. Just like our path of life.