An Incident On The Train - A Short Story By Goldie Elston

 



 

 

 

Write a story that contains a train, shots fired and yelling.

 

Hullo Readers - The above is another exercise we did at writing group. Hope you enjoy it

Goldie

 

 

 

            Mum and I were on our way by train to visit her sister, my Aunty Betty, in the country town of Horsham. The train was fully booked. We were lucky to get tickets. I was getting ready for bed in the tiny sleeping compartment. Mum was already in the lower bunk and having taken her medications, fast asleep. I tried reading and could not concentrate, so stopped to peer out the window into the night that was awash with dark and foreboding shadows. The moon was full, although partially obscured by big black clouds.  We were nearly over a bridge that crossed a wide river. Suddenly the train stopped with a lurch and I heard loud noises like carriage doors being banged shut and yelling, then two gun shots. I shot out of bed, hurriedly pulled on some clothes, opened the door with a minimum of sound so as not to wake Mum, and made my way down the swaying passageway towards the front of the train, along with many other passengers I might add. I had not gone far when a guard came along and told everyone in no uncertain terms to go back to their sleeping compartments.

“There’s been an incident,” he said in a clipped voice, his lips barely moving as he spoke.

“What happened?” someone asked.

“Never you mind what happened, Sir” he answered brusquely, “No need to worry yourselves.”

“But, we are worried,” wailed some woman in a brown hat. Why she had on a hat at that time of night is beyond me.

“The passengers will be informed in the morning, in the dining car when breakfast is being served,” he said in his clipped voice, his pencil moustache not moving, not even a slight wiggle, as he spoke through his yellow, disgusting teeth.

I had to resist the urge to giggle. Pompous creature, I thought. I think he loves been in charge. Must be the uniform that’s gone to his head.

“None of you are in any danger and I will not tell you people again. Go back to your cabins immediately.”

We all shuffled back to our respective cabins muttering and complaining along the way.

I got back into bed. Mum was still sound asleep. The train convulsed into action, clanking and clumping, the whistle blowing. Slowly it moved down the track its wheels gathering momentum.  I could not sleep no matter how many sheep I counted and lay there wondering what had happened. I was just about to drop off when a scuffling sound outside our cabin door brought me to life and once more I threw on some clothes and peeked tentatively out the door. It was only one of the cleaners mopping the passageway floor.

“Oh dear, you did give me a fright,” I said.

 

“Sorry Miss,” the young man said. “I was trying to be quiet.”

“That’s alright. You’ve got to do your job.”

“I don’t suppose you know what happened on the bridge tonight do you?” I asked, and gave him my nicest smile for encouragement.

“As a matter of fact I do,” he answered, smiling back at me as he reached into his pocket for a cigarette, more than willing it seemed to have a break from the drudgery of cleaning and tell me what he knew.

I could not believe my luck.  My curiosity had been burning and dying to be satisfied all night and now I was going to find out.

“Why don’t we go to the end of the carriage where we won’t disturb anyone?” he suggested.

I hesitated for a minute; after all, I didn’t know this young man and he might have bad intentions, but my curiosity got the better of me and I walked with him to the end of the carriage. He lit his cigarette and lounged against the wall puffing smoke all over me of which I was not one bit impressed.

“Do you mind?” I complained. “I’m not a smoker. Keep your smoke to yourself.”

“So sorry,” he said in a sarcastic tone. Do you want to hear the story or not?”

“Yes, but not with a smokescreen in front of the storyteller,” I replied and glared at him.

“Well, as far as I could see this is what happened.”

“What do you mean, as far as you could see?”

“Oh, I hopped off the train and went to the front, keeping out of sight of course.

“What happened then?”

“There was a bundle lying on the railway line. Looked like it could have been a man. I suppose he had intentions of killing himself. Next thing another fellow came running from under the bridge with two constables and a German Shepherd in hot pursuit. The dog was about ten yards in the lead. The constables were armed with rifles. “Stop in the name of the law or we’ll shoot,” they yelled. He kept running, swerving this way and that way in an effort not to get shot I imagine. The bigger of the two constables lifted his arm and aimed the rifle. He fired two shots, missed the first time and then got him in the left leg with the next shot. The man staggered like a drunk. The German Shepherd reached him and leapt at his arm pulling him to the ground.  The man screamed, the police arrived and handcuffed him. Meanwhile, what I thought was a man lying on the track, in fact was, and he raised himself up to a standing position, crying like a baby. He must have thought that his mate was shot dead. I presume they were mates because they were both dressed identically with the same haircuts, if you can call shaven heads a haircut that is. My assumption is that they were prison escapees. The train driver was a bit of a mess, wandering around in a daze of no use to anyone. Must have given him an awful shock.”

“What happened then,” I asked. This was exciting!

“I can’t tell you anymore because I thought I’d better get back on the train before I was missed by the other cleaners. I could still hear that man sobbing his heart out as I boarded. Poor bugger, he must have been in a right state to consider killing himself.

“Gosh, what a night. Thanks for telling me all about it. I’ll say goodnight then. Mum will be wondering where I am,” I lied, feeling uneasy all of a sudden.

“What’s the hurry, Miss. How’s about a little kiss before you go?” the young man asked and placed his hand on my shoulder. I could see the lustful look in his eyes. My heart started to pound with fright. “N-n-no  th-th-thank you,” I stuttered, wrenching his hand from my shoulder as I turned around and fled. I could still hear his laughter echoing along the passageway when I reached the safety of my sleeping compartment.

Mum stirred when I crept back into the bunk.

“Is that you moving about Angela? Are you alright dear?”

“I’m fine Mum, just having a bad night.”

 

 

 

 

Book Review "The Pencil Case" by Lorraine Cobcroft

Lorraine is a member of the writing group I belong to. She received such a wonderful review for "The Pencil Case" I just had to share it. Congratulations, Lorraine!http://treesofreverie.tumblr.com/post/54249382703/book-review-the-pencil-case-by-lorraine-cobcroft

The Tale In The Dark

I was only nine years old when my parents moved our family to a small farm in country Victoria. I have two brothers and a sister who like me, were looking forward to an idealistic existence in the country. I looked forward to having animals. Something we had never had in the city.

            We'd been at the farm about a year and my brothers and sister and I loved the country. The birdsong in the morning, the rooster crowing, cows mooing and the freedom to run wherever we wanted fulfilled our dreams of country life. People say it’s isolated in the country, but I never thought so. The people from neighbouring farms were friendly always dropping in for a cup of tea and a chat. My mother had never entertained so much in all her life.

            My brothers had made friends at school with Max and Johnny. Max and Johnny were coming over at the weekend to watch a movie at our house, “Nightmare on Elm Street”. For those of you who are not movie goers, this is one creepy movie. Freddie Kruger is the most evil man you would ever not wish to meet on a dark night. At the time, I had never seen the movie and begged my mother to let me stay up with the big boys to watch it.

            Mum, being a good mother said, “No, you can't, Jack. You'll have bad dreams and I'll never get any sleep. Your sister has to go to bed and you can too, my boy.”

            Well, I wheedled and cajoled her into submission. I can be very determined when I want to be.

            “Alright,” she said at last, giving in out of frustration and worn out by my nagging.

            “Whoopee!” I yelled.

            We all sat in the dark in the living room. The television cast eerie shadows around the room. We weren't far into the movie when I knew I was going to have nightmares.

            “Sure you don't want to go to bed?” said my biggest brother, Billy. “Sure it's not too scary for you?”

            The other boys snickered.

            “It's okay,” I said, my voice quivering.

            I sat boggle-eyed right through the movie and when it was finished I was too scared to go outside to the dunny or even to pee outside the kitchen door onto the veggie garden. I just went to bed.

            I woke in the middle of the night busting for a pee. I hopped out of the bed and peered under it.

             “Darn,” I muttered. Mum had forgotten to put the pot under the bed. I climbed back into bed and lay there for about ten minutes. It was becoming unbearable. I just had to get up and go outside to the loo. The kitchen door creaked as I opened it, setting the mood like icing on a cake. It was pitch black outside and the wind was blowing.  I heard the sound of an owl hooting somewhere close by. There was a whirr of wings overhead. The safety of the enclosed dunny seemed more appealing than standing vulnerable peeing in the vegetable patch, so I tip-toed over the wet grass my heart in my mouth, hoping I would not disturb any bogey men who might be lurking around behind the dunny. When I had nearly reached it I ran like hell, opened the door, slammed it shut and stood there. The relief was enormous. I was about to make a dash back to our house, when I heard a rustling sound, then some thuds. I was rooted to the spot. Could it be Freddie Kruger? I never gave God a thought most of the time, but I did then.

            “Please God,” I prayed, “please, please save me from this monster.”

            My heart raced a million miles an hour. I wanted to pee again, but with extreme effort put that thought out of my mind. I stood there breathing heavily. I was hot all over. My hands were clammy. I felt like I didn't have any legs, that concrete stumps were holding me up instead.

            I waited another minute. There were those noises again, a thud and the rustling of something. I slowly opened the dunny door a crack. Oh gosh, something dark and monstrous was moving by the old broken fence over on the other side of the back-yard.

            It was Freddie Kruger coming to get me. I just knew it! I'll have to run, I thought, and terrified, I bolted towards the kitchen door. Pyjama pants falling down around my ankles, I tripped up the back stairs into the arms of my mother.

            “What in the hell do you think you're doing, Jack,” she cried and turned the back porch light on.

            Standing in the long grass, blinking in the bright light, with her tail thudding to and fro against the fence was Betsy, our house cow, calmly chewing her cud.