Trains

Huge, two-storied buildings fleeting by on tracks, streaming light, noise and movement in their wake rushed by, screaming.

It was summer, and the great sandy wastes around him were still luminous, glowing like a white hot ember in the receding rays of the sun.

Closing his eyes and breathing in the warm evening air, the whole world seemed like a sack that's about to burst at the seams, so full of possibility and potential.

 

As another train shrieked past, whisking his coat for a moment in the vacuum created behind the speeding giant, Daniel leaned into the air current and swayed like a leaf caught in a sudden blast of wind.

"How good it is to be a leaf," he mused, "or a sea anemone, immersed in the currents of the sea like a small child burrowing into the safe, warm folds of a parent's sweater."

 

Standing between two express trains, caught in their opposite pulls, Daniel couldn't be happier. Here he was truly enveloped, embraced by the growling engines and screeching breaks. Taking one last look around at the desert, he threw himself in front of the quickly growing coach.

 

As the startled driver pulled the emergency breaks and heard them squealing their resentment at being so unexpectedly roused, Daniel's screams joined theirs, merging, caught in the irons, the chains, the springs and the rails.

 

As the train stopped at the next platform, along with its regular shrieks, squeals and grunts another scream could be heard.