The Train That Would Never Come (a #weekendfreewrite)

Hullo, hullo.

It’s @mariannewest’s #weekendfreewrite time! The Weekend Freewrite is made up of three five-minute freewrites, utilising three prompts that you can find: here (1), here (2), and here (3). And they have been bolded and italicised in my story.

My header image is CC0 and courtesy of Pixabay.

Not too sure where I was going with today’s story. It started off sad and depressing, and ended… I don’t know. Pretty boring story today. You have been forewarned!

Before I get into it though, just wanted to share my current Vengeance progress.

I’m almost up to rewriting-and-editing the official middle of the story! I’m up to chapter seventeen at the moment. My chapters on average are around 2500 words. And every chapter is pretty fast-paced. Sometimes I wonder if it’s toooooo fast paced. Keep the readers interested though, right? 🙂 Especially with today’s demand for instant gratification. So far right on track for having this ready for the Beta Readers Group by end of May at the latest!

Ok. Story time.



“I am walking to the station to catch a train that will take me home,” I forced a smile. My voice was so calm and collected, I’m not sure how I managed to add the smile too. Home was an unwanted destination. There were too many memories there. Too many feelings of inadequacy. And yet, there I was, barely a kilometre from the station and the train was arriving at eight on the dot. I had over an hour.

Matthew gave me a pat on the shoulder, as though sensing all the things I did not say out loud.

“Good luck,” was all he said before sending a wink and a wave and continuing on his way.

I closed my eyes for a moment and gathered myself, then continued on my own way. Alone. I wish I had the strength to turn around, raise my voice, and yell for him to come with me. Not with me home, but just, with me, to the station, to see me off. But it was too late.

My eyes brimmed but I forced the tears away. There was a time and a place, and now was not that time. Cars swept past, as well as the occasional truck and bus, and across the street were happy families eating dinner in the restaurants that lined the main road.

I quickened my pace.

~ * ~ * ~

I always had a habit of arriving at places far too early. It was a problem with being a walker. Sometimes you walked fast, sometimes you walked slow, and it was hard to predict at what time you would arrive and if you would arrive in time.

Being that I was catching a train, I needed to be on time. Now, here I was, at the station, with fifty minutes to spare.

All I had with me was a small bag of clothes and a few dollars for some food upon arrival. I couldn’t dare waste my phone’s battery. So, I sat on the wooden bench, its slats forever marking themselves into my butt-flesh, and waited. Bored. Sad. And alone.

I stared up into the sky and watched as the stars began to show themselves. The ones that were strong enough to be seen with all of this artificial light in the way, anyway. To think ‘home’ was even more artificial, if that was even possible. Oh, it was.

It had been ages and no trains had passed. I glanced at my phone and sat a little taller as I saw the time. 8:15PM. The train was late. And furthermore, all was silent. Eerie. There were no cars on the street behind the station. There was a breeze but nothing sounded.

A hand fell onto my shoulder and I near flew into the sign six feet above my head.

“I think they’ve gone,” Marie said, her head turned, her breath hot on my ear.

“Marie?” I hissed. “Why the hell did you sneak up on me like that?”

~ * ~ * ~

“I didn’t sneak up on you,” she droned in a long, intonal voice. “You weren’t paying attention.”

Marie was one of those people that everyone knew and no-one knew why they knew her. She was the town loony, and she was always around. At the shopping mall, in the streets, at the same restaurant you chose to eat at, and at the train station too, apparently. It’s not that I don’t like her, but I wish that anyone but her stood beside me at that moment.

“The red mark on his face,” she whispered.

“On who’s face?”

Why was I engaging her? And why hadn’t my train come yet? A small relief flooded my veins at the thought of not having to return home, but then despair overwhelmed the relief as I realised the anger that would be thrust at me for not fulfilling my daughterly duties.

“His face,” she pointed at the train tracks. There was no-one there. Only the discarded remains of someone’s McDonald’s bag. Apparently the nearby bin was too good for them to use.

“That’s Ronald McDonald, Marie,” I sighed and leaned back on the bench, and waited for the train that would never come.



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