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Justin Deming's avatar

The Train Hopper, Fiction

Milo hopped aboard the westward-bound freight train under the cover of darkness. He slipped inside a boxcar. Moonlight glimmered on his face.

“Hey,” a seasoned, smoky voice called from the shadows. “Where you heading, kid?”

“I don’t know.”

“No? Well, where you from?”

“Nowhere.”

The man’s voice cracked. “Me too.”

(Note: I originally wrote this story and published it back in December 2020.)

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Sharron Bassano's avatar

A fine opener for a longer piece, Justin. These two characters could get up to a lot of mischief.

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Justin Deming's avatar

Thanks, Sharron! Maybe someday I’ll revisit these characters.

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Stephen Scott's avatar

Thank goodness it didn’t end Simpsons style (with a sponge bath).

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Justin Deming's avatar

Hahaha! I’m thankful for that, too.

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Sharron Bassano's avatar

A glorious photo, John, open for so much interpretation. I saw a speeding train in it.

Thank you Justin!

CHIMERA, poem

In the bleak of night, a streak of light hurtles toward me.

It throws me back with a sudden smack of displaced air

and a deafening hiss.

Stumbling along the rumbling rails, how I long to board that train,

that chain of speeding clatter! Destination doesn’t matter.

Let me on!

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Justin Deming's avatar

Lovely poem, Sharron! The internal rhyming is really catchy. I feel for the speaker and can relate to her sense of longing!

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Sharron Bassano's avatar

Thank you, Justin. Excellent photo!

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Tara Penry's avatar

Scrumptious wordplay in this poem! I love it!

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Sharron Bassano's avatar

Thanks. More like work than play on this one. ha ha ha Glad you liked it.

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Forkbeard Jon's avatar

I love the way the rhythm changes mirror the train approaching, going past, and leaving into the dark. And that whistle at the end, whooo! Really nice poem :)

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Sharron Bassano's avatar

I aimed for that rhythm. It was harder than it looks. Thanks for you comment, FJ! Your interpretations are always spot on.

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Forkbeard Jon's avatar

Ha ha, I'm sure it was. But you made it *look* easy, and that's all that matters, eh?

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Caro Henry's avatar

The Tunnel, Poem

In the tunnel's depths,

a man surrenders to velocity,

his grip trembling on the wheel.

Peripheral lights become spectral entities,

alien beings uttering words in a

high pitched incomprehensible whine.

A collision of worlds, his reality merges with

the ethereal, blurring boundaries.

In the tunnel's haze,

he glimpses the unknown.

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Justin Deming's avatar

Wow, Caro! This is so atmospheric and suspenseful. Stunning work. One of my favorites of yours!

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Chris Patrick's avatar

The Tragic Tale of Little Jimmy, Fiction

He hadn’t been able to ride the train since.

He remembered the leaves on the station’s glass roof, and the roar of the train approaching, like a metal lion.

The football was old and flaky. Not worth it. But little Jimmy insisted on getting it back.

The ball stayed there.

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Justin Deming's avatar

Love that comparison of the train/metal lion. Great story, Chris!

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Chris Patrick's avatar

Thanks Justin!

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Tara Penry's avatar

Oh dear. Haunting! Wonderfully crisp, vivid imagery: all of para two, and then the flaky ball, not worth it. What a small powerhouse of a story!

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Chris Patrick's avatar

Thank you Tara!

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Forkbeard Jon's avatar

Timing (Fiction, TW: suicide)

He stepped onto the tracks with closed eyes. The train roared closer. So close. They screamed! But a bony hand pulled him back.

He opened his eyes and saw a scythe reflected in the flickering rush of windows.

‘It’s not your time,’ Death told him.

He turned and walked home.

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Justin Deming's avatar

What a vivid story! The bony hand, the scythe’s reflection...brilliant work, Jon!

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Tara Penry's avatar

I like this role for Death, and the authority of the bony hand!

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Sharron Bassano's avatar

Me, too. I never thought of death sending someone back. That is usually not the way it works. I like the idea of being rejected by death... somehow comforting.

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Sharron Bassano's avatar

ooooooooo, Jon! that bony hand.... creepy!

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Feasts and Fables's avatar

Interesting prompt - great capture.

Dodging the Bullet (fiction)

Darkness overwhelmed him, all too much. The nagging voice inside his hollow soul persisted, cajoling. ‘Go on, you pathetic waste of time. Do it’. The insistent rumble, thunderous, calling him towards a point of no return. The lights pierced the gloom even as he turned away from them. ‘Not tonight’.

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Justin Deming's avatar

A heavy story with a hopeful ending. Powerful work, Barrie. Here’s to defeating those nagging, incessant voices!

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Feasts and Fables's avatar

Not sure where it came from but always 'hope'. Thanks, Justin

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Sharron Bassano's avatar

What's your name?

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Feasts and Fables's avatar

Barrie.

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Sharron Bassano's avatar

Such a hurtful epithet, calling one's self "a pathetic waste of time". I would rather feel like anything else. A powerful inner conflict here! Here is a one-minute piece echoing your last line: https://sharronbassano.substack.com/p/not-today . You might like it.

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Feasts and Fables's avatar

That is excellent writing.

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Sharron Bassano's avatar

Thank you, Barrie.

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Feasts and Fables's avatar

Looking forward to reading more of your words, Sharron

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Sharron Bassano's avatar

Thanks, Barrie. Subscriptions to 🍁Leaves are free if you are not subscribed.

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Feasts and Fables's avatar

I’m in! Thanks

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Tara Penry's avatar

I love the surprising meaning of “dodging” in the end. May the character outlast those nasty voices!

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Feasts and Fables's avatar

I agree ... ending with hope for him ... always siding with 'hope'

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Stephen Scott's avatar

The Barrier (fiction)

The monolithic barrier silently mocks us.

Another neighbour shouts from their side, confirming this impenetrable enigma is endless.

We wave our mutilated hands - permanent reminders not to touch the wall when the light flashes past.

As dusk falls, townsfolk gather for tonight’s mesmerising phantasmagoria: the anomaly‘s only redeeming feature.

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Justin Deming's avatar

There’s a bleak and haunting quality to this one, Stephen. Maybe even dystopian? You hooked me and pulled me right into this world. Well done!

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James Ron's avatar

Like the Shinkansen. Fiction

"Man. I'm flying!" The quardrail's a blur. It looks like the Shinkansen.

I've never gone this fast down Breakneck Grade, even in my car,

much less on my toboggan skateboard, at night.

I should watch the road, and slow down, maybe even bail out.

No. I got this! - "Uh👀Oh!?%#&^@@#"

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Tara Penry's avatar

Ooof! I hope the speaker is okay after a little time in casts and on crutches. Stay away from Breakneck Grade!

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Sharron Bassano's avatar

Yikes! Hang on!

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Justin Deming's avatar

Seconded! Sounds absolutely terrifying!

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Mark Starlin's avatar

The Silver Bullet Rolls On • Fiction

Once this godforsaken depression is over and I find a real job, I’ll be the one sitting in that first-class compartment, wearing a fancy suit and eating steak in the dining car.

Not today.

And tomorrow, I’ll be hopping another freight train looking for any work I can get.

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Justin Deming's avatar

Excellent, Mark! I really enjoyed your story. Thank you for sharing!

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Justin Deming's avatar

Excellent, Stirling! Thanks for sharing!

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Stirling S Newberry's avatar

Thank you for the prompt.

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The Radical Individualist's avatar

The Light; Poem

The light.

The light by which we see.

By what light do you see the world?

By the direct, harsh, unforgiving light of the direct sun?

Or by its soft, shadowed, shapable, reflection from the moon?

Do you want to see all, or only some? And make up the rest.

Note: These are the first lines of a poem I wrote not too long ago. They come out at exactly fifty words, so what the heck!

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Justin Deming's avatar

Brilliant work! Thank you so much for sharing your poem with us.

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