Lexion
03-09-2008, 05:07 PM
Winter. Yeah. It happens.
I gotta be in Fargo, in three
days.
Fargo is snowed in for at
least 3 weeks.
Shit.
I have to go by rail.
Trains have always reminded
me of Germany. (Thanks Gramps)
Baggage checked, I board with
my go-bag. Socks, boxers and a
few nudes of my wife and girl-
friends. I never travel alone.
Decent little cabin in the third car.
I'm alone. Thank God.
I get comfy, and the train begins
to move. The rythmic bumps and
clicks quickly bring on sleep.
I awake. Silence. No movement.
Either a station, or we're there.
I debark. Nice rural station.
Noone on the platform.
More silence.
I turn around, and there is no train.
Only the passenger car.
I need to piss, so I figure I'm lucid
dreaming. I find the head and re-
lieve my bladder.
Returning to the platform, the
passenger car is gone.
There is a cattle car sitting there.
I attempt to wake up.
No dice.
I find the schedule. It's printed in
German.
I try again, to awake. I can't.
I walk to the cattle car. Dropping
my carry-on while slowly walking.
I slide open the door.
I've seen photos of my grandmother.
I know she died in Auschwitz.
There she knelt.
I'll never forget the last words I
heard, as an engine coupled with that
cattle car.
"Why was I left behind ?"
Regards,
Lex
I gotta be in Fargo, in three
days.
Fargo is snowed in for at
least 3 weeks.
Shit.
I have to go by rail.
Trains have always reminded
me of Germany. (Thanks Gramps)
Baggage checked, I board with
my go-bag. Socks, boxers and a
few nudes of my wife and girl-
friends. I never travel alone.
Decent little cabin in the third car.
I'm alone. Thank God.
I get comfy, and the train begins
to move. The rythmic bumps and
clicks quickly bring on sleep.
I awake. Silence. No movement.
Either a station, or we're there.
I debark. Nice rural station.
Noone on the platform.
More silence.
I turn around, and there is no train.
Only the passenger car.
I need to piss, so I figure I'm lucid
dreaming. I find the head and re-
lieve my bladder.
Returning to the platform, the
passenger car is gone.
There is a cattle car sitting there.
I attempt to wake up.
No dice.
I find the schedule. It's printed in
German.
I try again, to awake. I can't.
I walk to the cattle car. Dropping
my carry-on while slowly walking.
I slide open the door.
I've seen photos of my grandmother.
I know she died in Auschwitz.
There she knelt.
I'll never forget the last words I
heard, as an engine coupled with that
cattle car.
"Why was I left behind ?"
Regards,
Lex