This is a tiny segment of what I've been working on. I'm a good deal farther along in the story but I am rather fond of a few images in these first few paragraphs. Things to keep in mind as you're reading this is that Bertram has a bandana tied over his mouth as a makeshift medical mask to keep the dust out of his lungs, and it's the year 1936. We're smack dab in the middle of the Dust Bowl. This is very short and just meant as a taste, but comments and critique are always appreciated.
One of the boxcars was open, just a slit, and there was a man leaning out – old or young, I couldn’t really tell. His hat blew off. I squinted. Sweat dripped down into my eye, startling and stinging me. I blinked and the man was gone. At first I thought it was all a mirage – wasn’t Edgewater a dessert after all? – but then I saw a tangle of arms and legs tumbling alongside the train, stirring up a fresh thick cloud of black dust. The fellow must have jumped, though why anyone would purposefully throw themselves from a train into our little corner of the world was a mystery to me. Finally he ran out of inertia and sprawled out on the ground like a sacrifice on the slab. I blinked again. He was still there.
The entire event had taken four, maybe five, seconds but somehow I felt like I’d been sitting there, holding my breath, willing his rag doll body to stop tumbling for the better part of an hour. Suddenly there was a man where there hadn’t been one before and the violence of his arrival reminded me of the time I watched Mama pull an oversized calf from Mr. Morris’s heifer. Before I knew what I was doing, I hopped down from the pick-up and ran toward the new arrival baptized in Kansan dirt.
My legs were jelly when I got down the hill. My heart thumped so hard it rattled my insides. I’d never been this close to a moving train before. For a few seconds all I could do was tremble. The train seemed to breathe; exhaling gust after gust of friction heated air. The little bandana was no match and it fluttered about my mouth, the corners snapping my chin and cheeks. Up ahead of me was the man. He was on his hands and knees now, pawing through the dust like he’d lost something.
My legs were jelly when I got down the hill. My heart thumped so hard it rattled my insides. I’d never been this close to a moving train before. For a few seconds all I could do was tremble. The train seemed to breathe; exhaling gust after gust of friction heated air. The little bandana was no match and it fluttered about my mouth, the corners snapping my chin and cheeks. Up ahead of me was the man. He was on his hands and knees now, pawing through the dust like he’d lost something.
As I walked closer to him I saw a small bag in the dirt and wondered if this was what he was looking for. I picked it up and brushed it off. It was made of leather and had turquoise beads and feathers attached to the fringe at the bottom. On the front flap was an intricately beaded emblem of a bird. It looked like a Medicine Bag but the man in the dirt didn’t look anything like an Indian.
I shook the bag. It seemed empty. I looked at the man again and saw him looking right back. His face was absolutely caked in dirt but I could see his eyes just fine and they were the most vivid color of green I’d ever seen. The caboose finally passed us and the metal heartbeat of the train faded into memory.
Amanda LaFantasie © June 2014
I liked this when you read it to me but then again, I really like it when you read to me period. :) *hugs*
ReplyDelete