Whispers of 1944

Two rails and some broken boards. The train no longer runs through here. Trees have wrapped themselves around memories of time and the past. The rails shiny yet old and the boards rotted. Leaves and the homes of small beings scatter across the design. Once a world of adventure passed through this space and carried itself forward to docks, locks and town talks. Now as I stand here looking down the hallway of majestic trees and autumn leaves I can faintly hear the ghosts of the forgotten years. Parts of a train station remain and maybe what was once a grain elevator yet its too hard to tell. The wind is warm here but the birds don’t stay. I know I’m not alone though I stand by myself. There is history here. The reasons for failure and abandonment stay a secret within these woods. How did I come across this place. I was headed home. I was determined to work tonight yet here I am standing in the sunset amazed by the nature yet fearing the night. The sound of the past has turned up its volume. I can hear the steam engine and the whistle. I can hear a master and conductor. Women cry, children run. A horse has joined the crowd. Im still alone standing on the rails of time. A world of class and travel revolves around my stationary self. Theres nobody here but I can see a life I never saw. The ground has tremors. The trains- ahh- comin! I step off the rails. Out of respect or fear. I can’t be sure. The ground rumbles and the steam sprays out around my legs. The third window in the second car catches my attention. I see myself from years gone by. We lock eyes. There is terror in that car. Up the rails are prison guards. I hear someone whisper “tell them you know how to sew”. I have been guided to the spirit of my self. We will never meet. I have never lived this life again. I will always be the same as I never was Shauna Woodbury