Monday, 27 November 2017

The Last Train Journey

As the last train of the day left Carlisle heading south, stopping at remote stations the late winter tourists and regular commuters began to be joined by an ever increasing number of shadowy black clad figures. They had the usual comments about train connections, but other than that the train made its way Silently over the dark moors till it reached Bleamoor Tunnel when a giant of a man with a long blond Dearthhawk and his partner, who was much smaller, gently made their way to the empty guards compartment and plugged a MP3 player into the trains PA system. As they pasted Bleamoor Sidings the sound of Wayne Hussey’s voice echoed though the carriages “I still believe in God, but God no longer believes in me” The commuters and tourists looked around in disbelieve.  
 Half way across Ribblehead Viaduct and just as the low winter sun cut through the dirt on the windows like strobe lights, falling onto the black clothing of the group of silent people the sudden squeal of the trains’ brakes mixed with the sound of howling guitars and the perfectly timed words “There’s a crystal view from my window”. At this the group stood up and make their way to the doors on the southern side of the carriages.
A tall, handsome man with perfect hair, a brocade dress coat and white frilly shirt carried a small ornate wooden box towards a door, another gentleman in black opened it ready for him and he was steadied by a the reassuring hand of a friend as he stepped over on to the parapet, two women escorted a third behind, she was not dressed as the group but was clearly upset and seemed to be the prime reason for the deed. Others followed and more came out of other doors along the train. The leader opened the box and cast the powdery contents skywards the wind taking it down the bleak Ribble Valley as the record sang “Over this land, all over this waste---land.” 
Ribblehead Viaduct NOT MY PIC
 On the train an old couple openly wondered if they had fallen in to a horror movie scene, whilst younger commuters began to take photos.
Now it had not been a coincidence that from Carlisle the train driver and guard  had been chatting to two particular railway enthusiasts, who, were also part of the group, with them, they came out to watch what was happening, but the taller of the two who was having trouble with his long hair and glasses pacified them saying “Not to worry, this won`t take long, we are doing this for a friend” while the other with long blond hair in a long leather coat smiled and suggested they returned inside as everyone was coming back in, their work here done.
Ribblehead Viaduct.
As the song finished and everyone had returned to their seats, the train recommenced it`s journey to Leeds, the group had melted back into the night along the way. Wondering if he had dreamed it, the driver walked through the carriages looking for any evidence of what he had witnessed. All that was to be found was a scroll left on a table, he opened it and read “Sorry for any inconvenience caused, please send any bills to Morrish Solicitors, Leeds office, they`ll know about it and settle any claims.”


  1. Hi App'y! I'm popping over from "There's Bats in my Belfry." That sounds like a helluva train ride!

    1. Hi Debra, It will most likely stay as fiction, the train company won`t stop a train so the cord will have to be pulled (£200 fine) and it`s illegal to scatter ashes on the line. But with friends like mine….

  2. This was so wonderfully written. Someone should make a short film out of this.


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