The Train Passes

1 0 0
                                    

    When my eyes close, when I look to the inside, I see a rustic train roaring past me, the chilling Autumn breeze coming with it. I hear the slight rumble of a group of people over the Locomotive’s jubilant roar of a whistle. As the train passes, I can finally see the lush green of the field behind it. The people I heard earlier are all gathered around separate picnic tables, laughing and conversing as happily as the train roared. This scene is framed by the yellow and red hued leaves, telling of the coming Autumn. As I sit down by an old oak tree to take in this serene sight, a single, brilliant red, leaf falls from the tree above me. This leaf falls over my eyes. When it blows away yet again, I look up to see that the leaf had taken the scene with it.

The Short Story CollectionWhere stories live. Discover now