Unfamiliar landscape rolled by: flat, parched and empty.
The old carriages groaned and squealed, rusted wheels clanking on worn rails.
At least he hadn’t had to pay for the experience. Another jarring jolt made him grip tighter.
Destination unknown, the freight train did not stop at any stations. It ploughed on unrelentingly.
Behind him, his past life: oppressive and unbearable. Ahead of him, an uncertain future.
He stared at the gap between the cars. The blurred sleepers tempted. One fall and he could end it all.
His hands sweated. The thought passed.
Like the old train, he kept on rolling.
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (more details HERE). The idea is to write a short story of 100 words based on the photo prompt (above). Come on everyone, just wear a mask.
To read stories of 100 words based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.
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