Snippet of the Day
Fern swayed, leaning into the wall to regain her balance as the boxcar moved down the tracks. The woodsy smell of cedar and something sweetened settled in her nose as she turned and sat down on what looked to be sacks of animal feed. Seeing the horseshoe emblem on the burlap confirmed it was most likely horse grain.
She reached for her knapsack, resting it between her knees. Fern settled back and watched the town of Easton, Pennsylvania recede behind her. She knew this freight train went into New Jersey, but wasn’t sure where she should get off.
The sun began to slip down the horizon, leaving a path of warm pinks and smoky violets in its wake. The remains of the day’s heat warmed her face as she reclined her back into the feedbags. Summer was just beginning, and now her life was rocking back and forth as if on a raft in turbulent waters. I fucking feel like Tom Sawyer.
It’d been a Memorial Day picnic at a co-worker’s house. Another embarrassing incident where Johnny had had too much to drink and allowed his paranoia to ruin what had started as the perfect kick-off to summer.
He’d accused one of the bouncers whom Fern worked with at the Turnstile of lusting after her. It was always so humiliating to have to calm Johnny down and then rush to explain his demented ways to her friends or acquaintances. She’d always made excuses for him, which never failed to enrage Jada.
Fern tipped her head back, feeling the vibration of the moving train run throughout her body. She lowered her eyes against the glaring rays of the sun, drinking in its warmth. Thoughts began to run rampant.
She’d need a job, a place to live. With no car, she’d have to set things up so she could manage on foot, until she got on her feet financially. She never needed a car in Easton, always able to use public transit. Thinking of all those things that cost money had her hand dipping inside her satchel, riffling through its contents to find the roll of cash Jada had given her. Fern pulled out the neatly banded roll. She ran her fingertip over the corners of the bills, guessing she had about five or six hundred dollars.
The train rolled on, clanking through a tunnel of wooded areas and groves. Two boys on their bikes, with fishing rods resting on their shoulders, stood on the side of the tracks. When one of them noticed her, he pointed, his friend looking on, their faces perplexed. Fern lifted her finger to her lips, smiling. She pulled out her cell phone, checking the time. She’d been on the train for a little over two hours. When the cars began to slow she sat up, her senses sharpening. Fern slung her satchel and knapsack over her shoulder and stood. She made her way to the end of the car, peering outside, gripping the edge of the car as it swayed.
She reached for her knapsack, resting it between her knees. Fern settled back and watched the town of Easton, Pennsylvania recede behind her. She knew this freight train went into New Jersey, but wasn’t sure where she should get off.
The sun began to slip down the horizon, leaving a path of warm pinks and smoky violets in its wake. The remains of the day’s heat warmed her face as she reclined her back into the feedbags. Summer was just beginning, and now her life was rocking back and forth as if on a raft in turbulent waters. I fucking feel like Tom Sawyer.
It’d been a Memorial Day picnic at a co-worker’s house. Another embarrassing incident where Johnny had had too much to drink and allowed his paranoia to ruin what had started as the perfect kick-off to summer.
He’d accused one of the bouncers whom Fern worked with at the Turnstile of lusting after her. It was always so humiliating to have to calm Johnny down and then rush to explain his demented ways to her friends or acquaintances. She’d always made excuses for him, which never failed to enrage Jada.
Fern tipped her head back, feeling the vibration of the moving train run throughout her body. She lowered her eyes against the glaring rays of the sun, drinking in its warmth. Thoughts began to run rampant.
She’d need a job, a place to live. With no car, she’d have to set things up so she could manage on foot, until she got on her feet financially. She never needed a car in Easton, always able to use public transit. Thinking of all those things that cost money had her hand dipping inside her satchel, riffling through its contents to find the roll of cash Jada had given her. Fern pulled out the neatly banded roll. She ran her fingertip over the corners of the bills, guessing she had about five or six hundred dollars.
The train rolled on, clanking through a tunnel of wooded areas and groves. Two boys on their bikes, with fishing rods resting on their shoulders, stood on the side of the tracks. When one of them noticed her, he pointed, his friend looking on, their faces perplexed. Fern lifted her finger to her lips, smiling. She pulled out her cell phone, checking the time. She’d been on the train for a little over two hours. When the cars began to slow she sat up, her senses sharpening. Fern slung her satchel and knapsack over her shoulder and stood. She made her way to the end of the car, peering outside, gripping the edge of the car as it swayed.
The air had cooled, the days now longer. Fern directed her gaze toward her surroundings as the Jake Brake of the train hissed and squeaked, slowing to a stop.
It looked to be a lumberyard. Stacks of wood sat on pallets, lining the edges of a large, fenced-in area. This was it. She’d have to get off here. She looked down at the feedbags, unsure if they were being unloaded. The train whined one last time before coming to a complete halt.
Several workers moved about the yard, loading planks of lumber onto carts. Fern looked both ways and hopped out, darting up the track, looking for an opening beyond the fenced-in yard.
The sweet smell of sap and sawdust swirled around her as she eased into a jog. A shrilling whistle rang in her ears. Her chest tightened with alarm.
“Hey, you!” a gruff voice called out to her. Fern felt her body go stiff. She broke into a sprint, her breaths heaving. He yelled to her again, but Fern kept going, not daring to look back.
As the brush and tree line grew thinner, she downshifted her efforts into a slow, steady jog. Her eyes locked in on a small convenience store. Her legs burned with exertion. Fern ducked into the weeds. Thickets and thorns scraped over her skin, stinging her flesh.
“Shit,” she gasped. Fern directed her steps and headed right to the side of the building, the restroom sign welcoming her.
HOTTER HORIZONS
http://www.bookstrand.com/hotter-horizons-mmf
It looked to be a lumberyard. Stacks of wood sat on pallets, lining the edges of a large, fenced-in area. This was it. She’d have to get off here. She looked down at the feedbags, unsure if they were being unloaded. The train whined one last time before coming to a complete halt.
Several workers moved about the yard, loading planks of lumber onto carts. Fern looked both ways and hopped out, darting up the track, looking for an opening beyond the fenced-in yard.
The sweet smell of sap and sawdust swirled around her as she eased into a jog. A shrilling whistle rang in her ears. Her chest tightened with alarm.
“Hey, you!” a gruff voice called out to her. Fern felt her body go stiff. She broke into a sprint, her breaths heaving. He yelled to her again, but Fern kept going, not daring to look back.
As the brush and tree line grew thinner, she downshifted her efforts into a slow, steady jog. Her eyes locked in on a small convenience store. Her legs burned with exertion. Fern ducked into the weeds. Thickets and thorns scraped over her skin, stinging her flesh.
“Shit,” she gasped. Fern directed her steps and headed right to the side of the building, the restroom sign welcoming her.
HOTTER HORIZONS
http://www.bookstrand.com/hotter-horizons-mmf
No comments:
Post a Comment