If the warning in the title wasn’t enough, this little storyling is dark. So if you’re not a fan of that, I suggest you avoid reading it. A number of sensitive topics are alluded to in this, so be forewarned. Those of you who do continue reading, this was done for the Monday’s Minute Challenge. I chose the picture prompt, which you can see above. Yes, it’s a train, again. The word count is three hundred words exactly. I won’t say enjoy, since it might be difficult to find such a dark story enjoyably palatable, but if you do read it, I hope you like it.
The raindrops bounced off her black umbrella with a blitheness in sharp contrast to the despondence of her posture. She used to like the storms. They sympathized with her, were there with her in darkness when all light had fled. But now even the rain did not care. Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes for the first time in years. The sky would not do her crying today. Her frame shook as she sobbed silently. She covered her mouth to muffle the sound. He would hear.
As she tried to stifle her whimpering, the long sleeve of her overcoat slipped down her wrist. Quickly she pulled it back over the scars and bruises. He had told her never to let anyone see them, that people would lock her away, that they would hate her. He’d told her a lot of things. She still remembered his gentle words, his constant declarations of love. But she did not want love. Not anymore. Love hurt.
“Are you alright, miss?”
She let out a small scream and turned around, eyes wide with terror. He’d found her. It had to be him– or one of his friends. She knew all about his friends. They were rough, coarse men who did things she did not like. Instantly her gaze dropped to the ground. Never make eye contact, that was the rule.
The stranger repeated his question, stepping towards her. She nodded and backed away onto a set of train tracks. He started talking again, urgently, but she did not hear. In the distance, a piercing whistle broke into her dulled mind.
Then the train came, swift and sudden. It carried her away before the man could do anything. The umbrella floated to the ground. Rain’s tears bounced blithely off it, cold, and uncaring.
Believe it or not, I can actually write happy stuff. Also, a quick disclaimer, whatever was referenced in there, which i will leave you to discern for yourself, I neither condone nor appreciate any of it. They are hardly topics to be treated lightly, but I was following where inspiration led. Sometimes it is just interesting to write about the darker, harsher side of life.