Story time!
This is a fragment of a story that fell into my head this moring. I decided to store it here:
2 pm is not the time you expect to see ghosts. Ghosts belong in darkness and spooky places like graveyards or old houses, not in fields full of bright sunflowers on a summer afternoon. Yet the whistle rang in my ears, and the ground shook with the rumble of wheels. I could smell the smoke from the coal burning engine and the wind of passage was chill against my face. Of all my senses, only my eyes could not perceive the train. An electric chill crept up my spine and my hair all began to stand on end. I wanted to flee from this unknown thing that was turning my perceptions of the world inside out. Kyle’s small hand crept into my own and his voice was hushed, “It comes every Thursday. I like to be here to wave at them. I think it makes them happy.”