The train’s whistle blew as Cely lifted a towel to the washing line. Mum must be at the crossing to watch the 9.15 pass, she realized, looking down the track; Dad’s train and him dead fifteen years.

But something was different: Mum was on the track! Cely began to run. Mum–alzheimer’s!

“God!” she gasped–running, the towel whipping behind her like a flag.

“Stop! … stop!” she yelled. The train’s roar crushed thought. The towel blew from her outstretched fingers.

“Mum! Mum!” Cely pushed Mum onto the far track and landed on her back. The towel caught against the passing engine.

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Joanna M. Weston, M.A. has had poetry, reviews, and short stories published in anthologies and journals for twenty years. Has two middle-readers, ‘The Willow Tree Girl’ and ‘Those Blue Shoes’; also ‘A Summer Father’, poetry, published by Frontenac House of Calgary, all in print.

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6 Responses to “THE TRAIN • by Joanna M. Weston”

1. dj barber Says:
   July 26th, 2008 at 12:28 am

   You’ve captured a scary moment–and done it well!

   –dj

2. M.Sherlock Says:
   July 26th, 2008 at 2:53 am

   well at least the towel can dry off the guts on the front of the train.

3. Patricia J. Hale Says:
   July 26th, 2008 at 4:29 am

   Perfect flash piece.

4. Angela Says:
   July 26th, 2008 at 6:21 am

   I was on the edge of my seat! Wow…intense moment captured well!

5. Alice Folkart Says:
   July 26th, 2008 at 3:25 pm

   I wouldn’t have thought a writer could cram so much emotion, action, history, drama and fear into so few words. Intense.

6. B.Teuscher Says:
   July 27th, 2008 at 2:31 pm

   I am glad to see a writer take the ‘flash’ part of flash fiction to heart.
   Nice work.

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