All of her friends thought that trains were lack-luster, and too old fashioned to bother with. This deterred her for years. Should she take the AmTrak to the nearest train conventions? What about visiting friends at their graduation? Each time she suggested a road trip via train, her friends sort of laughed, and sort of didn't, because they knew that she was sort of smitten with trains.
What had drawn her to these trains started long ago, when she still owned VHS and a TapeDeck and a Tambourine. It started when she realized that these were all dying things. Like holding a cancer-stricken child in her arms, she began to cherish these by gone dreams, these inventions of old. To have and to hold, until death do they part (and even after death she had arranged for them to be given to the nearest child in the vicinity of her death.)
If, to her, the VHS player were the dying infant in her mind, the train was a whale: over-hunted, going extinct. IF this were the case, though, that would suggest a kind of demand for the creature. This hulking, lugging, chugging beast was in no such spot. It had fallen from grace during the days of the car, which were also so archaic, because no one lived very far. Everyone could walk to one another, and if not, take a plane. And if not, take a tube. And if not, give up.
No, trains were for long, arduous travelers with suitcases and hats and shoes meant for walking. A common misconception about trains is that murders happen on them quite often. Some Miss Christie had given them the idea in a newly-discovered essay. Trains were safe, though. Some people even still took them. Different people, though.
She found out just how different when she decided to take a train to the mid-west.
"Why's she late? Isn't we supposed t' get goin'?"
"Well, idunno. I jus' think that weer early es all."
"Shh, no such-luck bein' early, birdie. Hold tha' bags."
"Where do store my pets? Anyone know?... Anyone at all? Eh, you?" under their breath "maybe no one will notice a ferret in the train..."
"ALL ABOARD! HeeHeeHeeHee-- ahh you fuckin' low-lifes. I'm just shittin' on ya. 'ALL ABOARD', stupid mongrels. Pack in like rotten sardines, why dontcha."
And she just sat there on a nearby bench waiting to board the train. It was many things: dilapidated, untamed, unwanted, and holding onto the tracks for dear life as people pried tired doors open to board without the train-master. Where was the train-master anyway...
When it came to the point where she was the only one sitting outside, she decided to board, for fear of being left behind. Upon closer observation of her first physical train, she truly felt for the beast. With a groan, it winced at her approach, making her flinch. Two steps up, and she would be in. Still, she had to marvel at the structure and its sounds: six cars long, a dusty, rusty, steel grey; fenced-in windows that may or may not open, a smoke-stack long since having smoked, and twelve monkey-like-hooligans hanging on the top of the train, staring down at her like a murder.
She pressed into the train, and as such, Lenburg entered her first train, while the doors groaned shut behind her like sand-filled eyelids.
Without anyone to tell her about protocol, she didn't know that she would need to be seated for safety. Nobody else had realized it either, so it seemed. They all walked about and talked around, swaying side to side. But as the train jolted with movement, they all fell to the floor with curses and cries. Lenburg, or Len, had luckily landed against a wall, bracing herself with the bio-suit which monitored her breathing.
"Fancy steel-lung ya got there, missy. Now won't you help an old lady get the fuck up?" An old woman, probably 30, was reaching her hand out to Len. As customary, Len ignored this woman. She even shuddered at the thought of making contact with someone who could be injured.
She turned away, though she was cursed for doing so, and walked toward the front of the train. More people were here, which was part of her plan, which would allow her to fulfill her duties as writer and researcher. She adored the thought of sitting amongst several dozens of occupants, taking notes on their interactions, their changes, their flaws.
Her goal was the dash away all of the misconceptions of train-style and bring some blood back into the industry. As the train moved to life, she jot down some things to mention in her articles: there is no stench, no whistling or chugging is heard from the inside of the train, no wild animals, no murderers, no hazards...
As she sat down, writing her notebook up, she heard a bit of a murmur, followed by some laughter, some worried stares, and a bit of disbelief from the crowd around her. She took note in her book of the event that they were speaking of:
-Train Master dies.-
She began to revise her list of misconceptions, beginning with 'no murders' and striking out 'no wild animals' as a ferret began to sluggishly crawl her leg like a fat slug.
In the margins of her moleskin notebook, next to 'no murders', she began to take note that perhaps the train-master wasn't murdered. He could have died of many causes: fire, famine, mauling, plague... But there were ever-present footsteps on the top of the train. Those greasy-monkeys were still up there, up to no good.
That's when they dangled a lynched train-master by the windows.
Everyone knew it was the master because of the itinerary in his hand, just before he plummeted to the ground beside the tracks.
The intercom clicked on, silencing the screams of the passengers:
~We would like to inform everyone on board that you are all going to die. Thank you, and please enjoy the descent into madness. Also, you'll find nuts, wine, and one of us amongst you. The first two are on the trays before you. The last one, well... Have fun finding out where THAT is.~ -click-
As the train began to hitch and increase in speed, the chugging grew apparent from the inside, the whistles pierced through the interior of the vessel, and the ferret only got more comfortable in her lap.
The lack of surprise on everyone's faces truly reflected the time of coming and going, out with the old, in with the new. Everyone dies, everyone kills. Just hope you aren't dying before you get to killing.
She adjusted the respirator pack on her chest, watching the ferret, and grasping her notebook once again.
With a resigned sigh, she crossed the sounds, the whistles, and double-crossed the animals off of her list of train misconceptions. There was an up-side, though. At least it didn't stink.
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