*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1025296-The-Stranger
Rated: E · Fiction · Children's · #1025296
A boy takes a strange train ride
This was originally written with a limited word count restriction. I have since revisited it and expanded/revised it.

The train station was abuzz with activity but Ronnie and his Aunt Grace stood by the tracks oblivious to the commotion around them.

“It’s appalling that a young boy should have to take the train by himself.” Aunt Grace complained. “A boy your age who just lost his mother should never have to go on such a journey alone. It just appalls me. That father of yours should have come down to get you instead of asking you to take a train ride alone.”

Aunt Grace rambled on in her usual manner, but Ronnie didn’t hear much of what she said. He was in his own world of memories and sorrow. Just a month ago his father had steamed for Europe on business and his mother had brought him with her here, to Texas. This was where she’d been raised and she greatly missed riding the wide open plains on her horse, Sadie.

“You’ll be spending lots of time playing with your cousins,” she had told Ronnie. “Heaven only knows when I’ll get to come back here, so I’m going to ride hours every day.”

That had been her mistake, as it turned out. Just two weeks into their visit she’d been out on a ride with her brother when there’d been a fall. She would have never come off her horse, except for the fact that he stumbled and fell. The unfortunate coincidence of the boulder lying quietly in the exact location where her head hit the ground resulted in Ronnie standing here next to the tracks waiting to take the train back to New York by himself.

“I don’t fault your father for not being here for the funeral. It takes time to steam across the Atlantic, after all. But it appalls me that he’d send for you instead of coming to get you.”

At this point the train pulled up and Ronnie boarded with is small suitcase. As he walked toward the back of the car he noticed the other people on their own journeys. An old woman was knitting a blue sweater; about half of a sleeve hung from her needles. A young woman sat with a basket open beside her, a napkin on her lap and a drumstick with one bite out of it in her hand.

Fried chicken for breakfast. “Aunt Grace would be appalled,” thought Ronnie.

A couple sitting straight backed, the feather in her hat leaning over and kissing the brim of his.

A mother rode with her three children. The youngsters were sucking lollypops and sitting as he would be, quietly, with their legs swinging.

Ronnie walked to the end of the car and stowed his bag under his seat, then sat down in by the window. He looked out and saw his Aunt Grace searching for him, then waving when she saw he was seated and ready to go. He waved back and smiled with the corners of his mouth, then turned to face the vacant seat opposite him. In the moment before the train started forward a tall man arrived and reached up to place his carpet bag on the upper shelf, above the window. When the train lurched and began its roll down the tracks the man lost his balance and only prevented himself from falling in Ronnie’s lap by rolling into the seat next to him.

“I do beg your pardon, young man. I never meant to startle you so.” Ronnie just nodded at him from the corner where he’d sought refuge from the flying stranger and turned his attention out the window.

He watched in sadness as Texas ran past him, missing his mother, not noticing the passage of time while he cried silently. Soon his runny nose needed attention so he pulled his handkerchief from his suit pocket and sat back in his seat to blow. This was when he noticed the stranger had taken up the seat across from him.

The man was dressed in a brown pinstripe with vest. The pocket watch chain draped elegantly, a contrast to his comic bow tie: red with yellow stripes. He sat with his long legs crossed, exposing the length of silk socks, held up with garters, and brightly polished shoes. He was smoking a pipe and reading his paper through small rimmed glasses, hooked behind his ears. When Ronnie blew his nose the man lowered his paper and looked up at him with jet black eyes. He smiled.

When Ronnie turned his attention back to the window he saw the landscape pass in a blur. It seemed to be passing much too quickly; it made him dizzy to watch. He could feel the speed of the car racing faster and faster down the tracks.

“Hey, mister. Don’t this train seem to be going too fast?”

Without looking up from his paper the stranger answered, “Doesn’t seem so to me.”

The train continued surging ahead and Ronnie saw the shadows outside grow longer, then disappear in darkness. How could they have traveled into night already? He hadn’t even eaten lunch yet!

With a jolt the train came to a stop. The strange man stood up and said to Ronnie, “This is our stop. Let’s go.”

When he looked around Ronnie saw that the car was empty. “Where’d all the other people go?”

“Oh, they got off at the last stop,” the stranger said as he reached for his bag.

Ronnie couldn’t remember there being a single stop since he got on the train and was about to make that observation out loud when the man spoke again.

“You leave your suitcase right where it is, son. Come with me.” He removed his glasses awkwardly with his free hand and looked at Ronnie kindly with his black eyes, then moved past him and started down the empty aisle with Ronnie following close behind.

They disembarked at a station that was deserted and consisted only of a single bench underneath an awning. The train rushed away as soon as the two of them were off.

They were in the middle of nowhere. Stars shone brightly enough in the sky for Ronnie to make out the vast expanse of flat landscape surrounding them. The man sat on the bench and patted the space next to him, beckoning Ronnie to join. They sat in silence.

“What are we doing here?” Ronnie asked.

The man pointed to the sky where a burst of fireworks exploded. Last year Ronnie’s parents had taken him to see a fireworks display. They sat on a blanket in the park, Ronnie cradled within the warmth of his mother’s arms, where he was surrounded by the fresh scent of the lavender water she used, and could listen to her hum quietly while they watched the wonder of lights in the sky.

This sky over the prairie was alight with colors expanding the night; hundreds of seeds thrown up by invisible hands, growing instantly from tiny specks into monstrous fire flowers, then twirling toward the ground.

When it was over, Ronnie could smell lavender.

The stranger pointed again and Ronnie saw, not fireworks, but a shooting star. It arced across the sky, growing bigger and brighter as it neared the horizon. By the time it reached the boundary of sky and land it was a bright yellow light, but instead of disappearing it got larger and approached them quickly along the ground. The sound of the train whistle drifted across the empty space and tingled in Ronnie’s ears. He realized he was looking at the headlamp of the steam engine which, in a mere thirty seconds, traveled the distance between the horizon and the bench he and the stranger were sharing. It screeched to a sudden stop and the familiar blue-capped conductor emerged on the top step.

“All aboard!” he shouted. Ronnie got up but the stranger remained. “Aren’t you coming?” he inquired.

“Not this time. I’ll stay here for a while yet.”

When Ronnie got back into the car he saw all the people who had been there when he boarded in the morning. The old lady didn’t knit very fast; she was still only half way through the sleeve. The young woman was nibbling on the same chicken leg. The young couple smiled at him as he walked past. The children looked up at him, lollypop sticks pointing at him from their mouths.

Ronnie took his seat and relaxed to the rhythm of the train bumping along the tracks. He watched as the night became day again and remembered the fireworks and the shooting star, memories that would stay with him as strongly as the memories of his mother.

When the train pulled up into Grand Central Station, New York, his father was waiting for him and Ronnie ran into his open arms.

“It’s going to be all right,” Father said.

“Yes, I know,” Ronnie whispered back.
*****************************************
The prompt:

A fireworks display
A shooting star
A train ride.

© Copyright 2005 Lauren Gale (laurengm at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Log in to Leave Feedback
Username:
Password: <Show>
Not a Member?
Signup right now, for free!
All accounts include:
*Bullet* FREE Email @Writing.Com!
*Bullet* FREE Portfolio Services!
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1025296-The-Stranger