Photo by Missy Lynn Photography
The whistle called across the winter air. Sarah jumped from the porch and took off through the back field, kicking up snow as she went, and got to the tracks just ahead of the train. She inched closer until the cars blurred into flashes of dark metal and the snow covered field beyond, flickering by too fast to recognize.
Her head swam. Her hair swirled across her face. She hovered at the edge of the train’s gravity, feeling the pull on her body. Just one more step and it would take her. She’d be gone like the wind rushing across the plains, headed anywhere but here. Adrenaline spiked in her veins. Her mind raced with possibilities. New town. New people. New Sarah.
But her feet held firm. They always did.
The last car whipped by, sucking the breath from her lungs. She stumbled forward nearly falling to the tracks as she watched the tail of the train disappear. One day she’d find the courage. One day she’d be gone like the train, racing down her own track. And never looking back.