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“ Hell Has No Fury Like A Locomotive”
A dark cloud moves across the moonlit pasture as in the distance a train whistle can be heard along forgotten tracks.
The rails rusted through to the ballast.
These rails haven't seen a train in over a hundred years.
Yet a scream can be heard from the past, blasting through the clouds like a plow through soft soil.
Cries from the dead passengers can be heard among the fertile landscape once so green and basking in the moonlight, now so black, black as coal.
The wind was so cool and mild with a bit of moisture mixed in, now hot as hellfire, and blistering heat and screams from the dead cut through the silent countryside.
The locomotive screams like a Mayan death whistle.
Nothing but fear in its wake, surrounding towns will hear when it's too late.
Nothing, but tragedy and fear can be remembered about that fateful day because Hell has No Fury Like A Locomotive some say.
ns 15.158.61.40da2
