Picture Prompt-86

I could stand here for a minute, an hour, days.  

Whenever the train comes, I could move. 

 I could just stand here in the tracks.

  I could feel it first in my shoes, the rumbling of the power and heaviness.  

 I could hear it, coming down the valley, around the trees, shuffling leaves off as it passes. 

 The whistle will blow as it always does when coming to the bridge, but I could stand here.

I could see it coming closer, my shoes vibrating from its strength.

The whistle is so loud, I could cover my ears.

I could let the train overtake me, swift and crushing.

I could not even feel it.

I could hear the whistle, the screaming, squealing brakes that cannot stop.

I could feel myself dying, feeling nothingness around me.

I could be nothing.


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