RURAL STATION - HEADING NORTHby
whitewolfComment by K3Master: As the sun dropped on the idyllic scene, Old Man Bartleby closed up shop on another lazy day. Not too many folks took the train anymore, and though he still had rather steady work, it wasn't like it was in the old days.
No, back then this place was always a scene of such barely ordered chaos, meetings of old friends, hurried gentlemen and harried mothers, and all the social trappings of being the main source of transportation for any small and populated village of its kind.
Now, he was lucky to see a couple hundred people a week, and then only if a sight-seeing tour came through. However, it was work, and he loved what he did, and Lady Marple still came through to see her son out Biddeford way now and then, and he always had a wonderful chat with her, and kept abreast of the family and the goings on of the big city.
He sighed, and locked the door, and began his journey home, and so it was that he missed the growing sound of activity on the far side of the station, by the track. Had he been there still, and had he been quiet enough or lucky enough to not startle them, he would have been amazed, and full of wonder and of fear, for gathering there in the deepening dusk were the phantom shapes of people. People that quickly grew more solid, yet remained quite ethereal. People dressed in old costumes with the flavor of the old days, before the advent of the car. People milling here and there, talking amongst themselves, waving to each other, and looking as if they were expecting to leave at any second.
And as the sun finally disappeared over the horizon, and darkness settled in like a blanket on the chill of the evening, another sound was heard. The whispering call of a train whistle. It would be like a rush of wind to our ears, but at its call the ghostly figures all looked up, and happily gathered on the tiny platform, and indeed, they could be seen inside the station as well, though it was locked up tight.
The train, itself just a whisp of thought gliding through the air, pulled up to the station and stopped. It also took on a more prominent stature as it solidified to sight, but only just enough, and with a call from its phantom conductor, began to board.
The people seemed not to touch the ground as they boarded the train, and those inside the station simply walked, or simply moved, through the shuttered doors of the building, impeded not by any physical structure, until they too were lost to the interior of the train. As soon as they were all on board and settled, it sounded its whistle again, this time loud enough to silence the crickets and frogs, and pulled away.
For 40 nights, this spiritual scene had played out, and another night passed once more, and to what end these ghostly memories of the past went on to, none would ever know.
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