Is it still Wednesday? Why yes, it is. Does it matter? Why no, it doesn’t! It is, however, time for Friday Fictioneers and I needs must thank Rochelle for being such a wonderful hostess and this week, thanks to go Alicia Jamtaas for her wonderful photo. If you want to play along, or simply read other submissions, just click on the frog below!
The Whistle Blows
Fred shuffled to his rocking chair set up on the wrap-around porch and sighed as he settled into it.
The breeze tickled his cheek and he swore carried with it the whistle of the five o’clock train. He was ten and running out to meet it, counting how many freight cars there were. Sometimes the train was so long, he got lost in the numbers. One thing was for sure and certain. The last car was always the caboose and the conductor always leaned out and waved back. Never failed to make him smile.
Who you waving at, Grandpa?…. Grandpa?
It’s Wednesday – just barely, a mere hour left! Busy morning, loooong shift (where I wrote most of this… Shhhh. don’t tell my boss!) and finally, after applying the right amount of spit and polish, I finally can share. Thank you, always, to Rochelle, for hosting this bunch of riff-raff. And this week, thank you to Sandra Crook for the use of her lovely photo!
Looking for inspiration, I Googled “train” songs and landed on this Elton John one and the idea was born.
Click me to ride this train!
This Train Don’t Stop Here Anymore
“I used to be the main express.
All steam and whistles heading west.”
There was a time when they stopped, wanting to get closer to her exuberant youthful beauty.
Today, she barely garners a second glance, her charms less dazzling perhaps.
A more subtle type of lovely only to be noticed by those willing to slow down long enough to see it.
“You don’t need to hear it
But I’m dried-up and sick to death of love”
Was this true? Was she truly fed up? Or worse, had she given up?
She needed to find a new song to sing!
It’s Wednesday already! You know it. Friday Fictioneers is here. Rochelle Wisoff-Fields of Addicted to Purple has chosen a photo from a fellow participant and wonderful writer himself, c.e. ayr of Sound Bite Fiction fame. Thank you to you both for your part in this week’s fun. I admit to feeling stumped at first. Then a most wonderful memory came forth and I couldn’t go anywhere else. So, sorry (not really 😉 ). No fiction from me again this week. I can’t help myself.
Click on the blue frog to read more stories or to add your own. Want to know the how-to of Friday Fictioneers, click on Rochelle’s name!
The boy was fascinated by trains. Less than a hundred yards away, the train rumbled by several times per day, shaking the house, thrilling him.
Daddy would set up his old set from when he was a boy and they would lie on their tummies, watching it go round and round.
One day, Daddy said, “Let’s go on an adventure!” The next thing the boy knew, he and his family were part of the rumble, watching the world whizz by.
How a one-hour ride each way could bring so much joy…
…what he wouldn’t give to go on one more trip.
A little show and tell, if you will… Aidan with Mick and the old train set; Iain, Mick and Aidan waiting to board the train and Aidan transfixed.
So many moons ago. This was in 2003. Sweet memories indeed!
Word count: 100
It never failed. The train passed by exactly at four o’clock every afternoon while I lazed away in the field, dreaming, hiding from my chores. I imagined myself hopping on it one day, taking me away from here.
I wanted to see the world. I was going to GO places! The city was calling me: the hustle and bustle of “real” life was out there, not here in this endless nothingness. I was ready to go out there and see it for myself. Mom wanted me to go out there and find what I was looking for.
Then Dad died.
Friday Fictioneers: 100 Word Stories
Photo prompt: Copyright © Jennifer Pendergast