The Train Whistle

The night is quiet and still. Occasionally the wind will stir the trees in the distance. I know it is there, but I don't feel it. A train passes a couple of miles away. I only know this because the whistle claims my ear as if the train is right next to me. I don't know why this whistle bothers me so much but I get the shivers every time it encounters me alone in the dark.

During the day, the sound is absorbed by all of the activity sounding our little town. At night, though, that whistle knows when I'm alone and vulnerable. I shrink further into my own skin when the conductor pulls the chain. I can envision a skeleton standing at the window with his arm on the chain waiting for me, and finding me, he yanks hard. I wonder how his bones don't separate with the force of his vengeance for me.

The eyes of the conductor, gaping holes in a gray skull, seek my soul in the dark of midnight. I am often outdoors at this time enjoying my solitude and the quiet of the night. I know he often lifts his engineer's cap at me and waves. This doesn't make sense as the train is not visible from here. But he knows I'm there. He knows that I know he's there. We've had a cat and mouse existence for years. Unfortunately, I've become weary of the game. The conductor might catch me soon.