Train Whistles

I had to write this for my midterm in a class. I think I'll revise and add to it at some point, so feedback would be appreciated (:

Nick awoke to the sound of a blaring train whistle.
            Quickly, he sat up straight and cursed under his breath, cold beads of sweat dripping down his back. This was the third night in a row he’d had that dream. The plot never varied: it began with an older man working on a railway with several other men. They were laying everything by hand, and their clothing, old, mismatched, and worn, suggested a much earlier time period. Perhaps the era of the Great Depression? Nick wasn’t exactly a history enthusiast.
            The dream would continue somewhat pleasantly for awhile, and then suddenly there would be a lot of shouting. The man, who Nick did not even remotely recognize, would look around hurriedly for his comrades, only to find himself surrounded by iron and woods. Everything would flash white, blinding Nick, and then �" that whistle. He always woke up then.
            Taking a sip of water from the glass on his bedside table, he did his best to shake the dream off. He considered getting up and taking a quick walk through the house. Just as he put the glass down, an icy breeze invaded through the open window, stirring the long, white curtains as well as Carol, his wife. Well that’s odd, he thought. It was a very balmy night until that sudden blast of wind. As he pulled a second blanket over her, a sigh escaped him. He was best off going back to sleep. Carefully, he slouched back down next to Carol and closed his eyes, the echo of a train whistle still fresh in his ears.

***

            Somewhere outside his window, a bell tone resonated five times. Lewis stirred in his makeshift bed on the living room sofa, finally rolling over sluggishly and rising before the sun. His children, who were now grown and had families of their own, would remain asleep in their beds upstairs until the bells rang seven times.
            They used to have alarm clocks in each bedroom, but now they relied on the clock tower in town nearby and the one clock upstairs to tell the time. Lewis made sure the alarm was set at the right time for his kids. He was a light sleeper anyways, so he didn’t mind listening for the bells. Before the depression, numerous devices like clocks wouldn’t have been a big deal. But everything was expensive these days, and they barely had enough money to get by. They had sold all of their frivolous items a long time ago.
            As quietly as possible, Lewis dressed himself in his usual railroad construction attire: worn, tan pants and a stained, off-white tank top. He was a man of average stature, but he’d slimmed down significantly in recent years due to a lack of money to buy groceries. He always fed the grandkids first, followed by his own kids, and finally himself. There wasn’t much left by then.
            After eating half a slice of bread as his breakfast, Lewis carefully closed the creaking front door behind him and left for work. The white, Victorian style home used to be a work of art, but it had been seriously neglected since the depression hit. The two-story home with a spacious front porch had been Ellen’s pride and joy. Now falling apart, Lewis worked 70 hours a week just to keep it in his name and put food on the table. Carefully reaching into the pocket of his pants and touching the picture of his wife he always kept with him, he turned away from his home and headed towards the railway.

***

One story below the master bedroom, leaves rustled angrily outside. Nick rose from the bed slowly. This was the second night in a row he’d been hearing noises outside that didn’t sit well with him, and the fourth night he’d had the dream about the railway worker.

Careful not to wake Carol, he rolled slowly out of bed and stepped closer to the open window. The moment he got in front of it, the leaves stopped rustling. There was no wind outside to make them move. Intrigued and a bit concerned, he threw on a sweatshirt and headed downstairs. The house was old, and he seemed to notice the loud creaking of the stairs even more when he was trying to be quiet. They had just moved in a few months ago, and the place was a work in progress, but it was a lovely Victorian home.

He flicked the lights on as he reached the kitchen, but something still didn’t feel right in his stomach. He headed to the front window, carefully pushing the curtains back to get a look at the front yard. As he looked just in front of the tree line, where he’d heard the leaves moving, he did a double take. Was that �" it can’t be, he thought, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes. Sure enough, there was indeed a small ball of light bouncing around out there, and the leaves were rustling again. Quickly, he swung open the front door and stepped out into the yard. Squinting into the darkness, Nick could have sworn he’d seen a figure standing there, holding what looked like a railroad lantern. It sure was cold out here.

***

The Virginia sun was beating down on Lewis and his buddies as they slaved away laying iron tracks down over the dirt path. He’d been out here for seven hours without a break on an empty stomach. His vision was starting to blur. He heard someone calling to him. It was his friend, George.

“Hey, Lewis! Y’ alright, bud?” George was drenched in sweat and breathing through his mouth, revealing a few missing teeth.

“Yeah, I’m fine, George,” he called back. “Thanks bud.” They always called each other that.

Suddenly, Lewis couldn’t see anything. He was guessing it was a heat stroke. Everything just kind of went white. He staggered a bit, trying to maintain his balance and not fall to the ground. He could hear men shouting, but no matter which way he turned, he couldn’t see anyone. He stepped onto the tracks to steady himself, when he noticed a woman on the other side. Staring in disbelief, Lewis took out his wife’s picture and held it up. Through his clouded vision, he recognized the figure as Ellen.

It was then he heard the train’s whistle.

***

Nick slammed the front door behind him, running barefoot through the yard until he reached the light source. It had faded just before he reached it, but the leaves on the ground were still blowing from side to side. In the darkness, he could barely make out an odd shape among the leaves, and when he crouched down to pick it up, he realized it was an old photograph. He found a second one underneath that.

“How did these survive out here?” he wondered out loud. Just then, a light turned on upstairs, and he heard Carol yelling from the window.

“Nick! What are you doing? It’s 3 AM! Come back inside.”

As he entered the house, he got a good look at the first photo, and came to the sickening realization that he knew the man. It was the railway worker from his dreams. He shuddered and left the photos on the table as he climbed upstairs back to bed.

 

Author's Note

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