Ghost Train Part One (complete)

    I hate trains. I always have. Ever since I was little, I would never set my foot on one without pitching a massive fit. I had to be forced onto them. My grandmother was the superstitious kind, and she had ghost stories for everything. She had told me stories about the men who died building the train tracks, the men whose blood was in the steel, and the stories of the people who died while traveling. Of course, I would be afraid. After hearing all her tall tales, how could I not be?

    As a child, my family traveled a lot. We moved from place to place, setting up somewhere and, within a few months, we would have to leave again. Of course, this was because of my father and his work. Well, he liked to call it work. What he actually was was a robber. He would move us to a town with a decent bank and, for a few months, he and his men could stake it out. Once they had their plan, they attacked, and we moved.

    It came to a point where my mother eventually put her foot down. She was sick and tired of moving. It was becoming too much for all of us. But my dad didn’t want to settle, he didn’t want to go about life honestly. He wanted the rush, the excitement, the money. So he left.

    He would still send up letters and money, although my mother hated it. He would tell stories about all his new adventures and heists. He had started robbing trains, something that made me massively nervous. I wrote to him, telling him everything my grandmother had about trains.

    “You have to expect that one day, your letter won’t get delivered,” my mother told me. “The way your father is going, no men live to be old. Just like your grandfather and your great grandfather. They all died young. I’m certain your father will as well.”

    “Daddy won’t,” I said with the staunch belief that my father was invincible. “He’ll come home one day. You’ll see.”

    My mother remained quiet. She knew in her heart what the truth of the matter would turn out to be. But because I was young and still not wise to the world, she didn’t want to take the bit of hope I had.

    It wouldn’t be until a few weeks later that my letter came back to me. Full of postmarks and stamps, there was one that stood out in brilliant crimson, outlined by the extra ink of the stamp. The word ‘deceased’ was all I saw. It was all I needed to see. 

    For years later, my hatred of trains only got worse. More than ever, I saw the locomotives as a tomb and a casket for the dead. My father being one of the damned on board. I would hear the whistles, and it felt like the calling of the Grim Reaper to me.

    As time passed, I grew up and became a teacher. My mother and I stayed in the same town for as long as we could. We moved once, going further west where I was given a job at an all girls school. It was a remarkable job and, since it was private, the pay was great. 

    I had never been in such an affluent town before. Everyone seemed to have their own money, and nothing was a struggle. Eventually, I felt like one of those people. My mother didn’t have to work her fingers to the bone sewing and washing clothes for people. I could pay our way easily. 

    “I’m so happy we’re in such a wonderful place,” my mother said one day. “So many rich gentlemen, you’ll be able to marry anyone you choose.”

    “Mama,” I scoffed.

    “Don’t you see? This is your chance, Ana,” she clasped my hands and squeezed so tight. “You can marry someone who is unlike your father and grandfather! You can escape that life. You can marry a man with money and influence.”

    I sighed and shook my head. “But Mama, I like my job. I don’t mind making my own way. I don’t need some man to swoop in and save me.”

    My mother was desperate for me to escape the life she had known all her life. We had barely done that when my father had left. We had worked and struggled all our lives, and she only wanted the best for me. But I knew that no man was going to be the answer to all my problems.

    Marriage was far from my mind. I was happy with my work and the girls under my tutelage. I didn’t need anything more than that, because, to me, it felt greedy hoping for something extra in my life.

    But then I met Shae. 

    Tall, dark, handsome Shae. He rode into town one afternoon as I was leaving the mercantile. He was outside, dusting off his horse as he chewed on a cigar. The smell of the smoke coming from it was terrible, so I made my way around him.

    “Hello, Miss?” He called out to me.

    I tried to ignore him as I waited to cross the street.

    “I know you can hear me,” he said, chuckling. 

    I continued to ignore him. I never talked to strangers. 

    “Oh, wow,” he said with a puff of smoke. “Too pretty to talk to someone like me?” He grinned. “I understand. If I looked half that good, I wouldn’t talk to me neither.”

    My cheeks started to burn, and I stepped off the sidewalk to cross. As I was halfway, I heard a shout and saw a carriage running out of control careening down the street. I dropped what I was holding, and in the blink of an eye, I was on the ground, covered by something that reeked of cigar smoke.

    “Oh, damn,” Shae huffed. “You lost your groceries, Miss.”

    I looked up, seeing Shae had grabbed me and rolled me out of danger. The carriage was still careening out of control, eventually crashing into a building. 

    “You saved me,” I gasped. “Thank you!”

    His hair and skin were dark, and he had the most masculine features. His nose was bent and crooked as if it had been punched out of place and never fixed. But it was his eyes that really drew me in. Those bright brown orbs that looked like cinnamon. 

    He grinned at me, showing that his canine teeth were silver. “My pleasure entirely,” he chuckled. “Not every day I get to touch something so pretty.”

    It was then that Shae and I started our secret courtship. I hadn’t intended it to be that way, but there was just something so powerful and alluring about him. He was big, gruff, and hairy, like all the wolves from my grandmother’s stories. Yet, he was gentle and kind, and he always knew what to say to make me smile. 

    He would sneak into my window at night, kissing me and holding me as I begged him to keep quiet. His long, dark hair needed combing, so often I would brush it and tie it back in a braid. He would laugh and insist I tie it with a ribbon. I did that as well. It always tickled me to see him, his long braid going down his back with the cheerful little bow at the bottom. 

    No one would dare say anything about it. Shae was frightening, and if anyone did say something about his beloved ribbon, they wouldn’t have much to say for long. Shae could easily knock out a man with a single blow. He told me his family were farmers, but he was trying to find work elsewhere so he could help pay for the new equipment his family so needed.

    I believed him, and I let him tell me stories of where he grew up. He told me how his family had owned the same land for generations and how it was stolen from them. He told me of anger and rage I couldn’t begin to understand. 

    We made love several times. He would steal me away, and we would take comfort in one another. He was gentle and loving, but I could tell there was a heat and a darkness to him. The way he moved and how he touched me, I knew he could do more, wanted to do more. But he didn’t want to hurt me.

    One night, as we laid in a stable loft, looking through the cracks at the stars, I learned my fate was inescapable. 

    “I need to confess something,” Shae whispered to me.

    “Hmm?” I was nearly asleep, snuggled up on his broad chest. My legs were limp, and my belly was still fluttering from our efforts.

    His hand stilled on my shoulder, and he swallowed back his fear. “I’ve not been completely honest about why I’m here.”

    My eyes slowly started to open.

    “There’s a train coming in,” he whispered. “My crew and I are waiting for it.”

    I sat up with a start, gazing down at him with a panic. “What?”

    He sat up, bracing himself on his palms. “I am trying to get money to help my family, Ana.” He reached out a hand, but I slapped it away.

    “But you’re going to rob a train to get it?” I snapped.

    His cinnamon eyes were heavy, and he looked away from me.

    “Shae!” I snapped at him. “You cannot do this! This is wrong! Please-” my voice choked off.

    “I can marry you, Ana,” he whispered and placed his palm on my cheek. “I’ll have the money to help my family and give you everything.” His thumb swiped across my bottom lip. “Let me do this.”

    “How can I?” I cried. “When it killed my father?”

    His eyes widened. “You never told me.”

    I told him the story, and he leaned back and was quiet. He then made a promise to me that he wouldn’t set foot on the train. He promised he would marry me, regardless.

    We planned for our wedding to be at the end of the month, so he left to go get his family so they could witness it. It was supposed to be a happy day. My mother had made me a dress and my students had decorated the church as a present to me. I was excited and happy, but as time passed, it turned to dread and anxiety. 

    He hadn’t returned, and I feared the worst. I was sobbing in my room when my mother came in.

    “There’s a man downstairs for you,” she said.

    I left, clasping my robe about me. The young man in the kitchen had the same eyes as Shae. He handed me a letter, and it felt like the world had ended. Shae had done what he had promised me he wouldn’t. He left town to fetch his family, but they robbed the train.

    I was distraught and grieved. I was in agony for months. Years later, I married a man who was kind but didn’t love me. My daughter grew up happy and loved, but in my heart, I always knew something was missing. Something wasn’t right.

    During a horrible winter, my daughter, Gracie, and I are returning from church. It is snowing hard, and we can barely see the streetlights ahead of us.

    “C’mon, Mama!” Gracie is giggling. 

    “Slow down!” I squeeze onto her hand. “There is ice everywhere. I don’t want you to fall.” Her hand slips from her mitten, and she races ahead of me. I panic as I lose sight of her and I give chase. I run through the thickest of white until my heel gets caught and I slip on ice. I slide and flop around.

    “Mama!” Gracie gasps as she stands beside me.

    “I told you not to run!” I groan. My hip and ass are in agonizing pain. “That was very bad, Gracie!” I whimper and fall back onto the ice.

    “Mama!” Gracie starts to cry.

    I try to sit up, but my hip hurts far too bad. I look up at Gracie, wondering what I can tell her. In this snow, it is so hard to see anything. I know I can’t send her out on her own. She will easily get lost in all of this.

    I then hear the blaring scream of a train whistle. I grab onto Gracie, holding tight onto her. Looking up, there is steam and heat in the air. I knew we were far from the train tracks, at least, I thought we were. 

    Through the snow, I can see the light of the train. It glows and is warm before it. It hisses and settles, a deep groaning going through the air.

    “Mama?” Gracie clings to me. “What is that?”

    Someone comes down the stairs from the train. The heavy soles of their shoes make a loud noise as they step off the stairs. They crunch through the snow, stopping just before us.

    “You alright?” They ask.

    “Mama fell,” Gracie says before I can stop her. “She’s really hurt. Help her.”

    The man sighs. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll try and help as much as I can, little lady.” He kneels down, scooping us both up in his strong arms. I smell the smoke of a cigar before the pain makes me faint.

    When I come to, Gracie is snuggled up beside me, snoring as she cuddles a teddy bear I’ve never seen before. I sit up, realizing we are in the sleeper car of a train. I push away the curtains, looking out into the hallway. Outside, I only see the white of snow. My hip is still painful, so I can’t get out and look around. 

    I sigh with nerves so heavy and cling to my daughter, feeling she’s the only thing keeping me calm at this moment. Had I been alone, I probably would have been freaking out.

    I hear heavy footsteps come down the hallway and, in a moment, there is a knock beyond our curtains. 

    “You alright in there?” He asks.

    “What’s going on?” I ask. “Where are we?”

    He chuckles. “Only where you need to be, love.” His voice is gravely and somehow echoes. “No need to worry.”

    “Well, I feel as if I need to,” I scoff. “Who are you?”

    The curtain starts to peel back. It opens up, and the man that stands there is strange and ghastly. My heart drops out, and everything I had feared as a child feels suddenly too true for me to stand.

    The man is wrapped in a dull yellow glow, parts of his face are gone, revealing skull and bone. His long, dark hair hangs around him like a curtain, floating about him like he were in water. His hand clutching the curtain is bone, and gold rings are hovering around them.

    “You alright, love?” He asks. “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost,” his laugh is dark and taunting.

    Gracie stirs, clutching the teddy bear still. “Mama,” she coos. 

    “No, Gracie!” I gasp, covering her eyes as she sits up.

    The ghost laughs. “Pretty girl you got there. How old is she?” he reaches to touch Gracie, but I slap his hand away.

    “Don’t you dare touch her!” I hiss at him.

    He laughs, smirking at me. “You like slapping hands, don’t you?” He tilts his head and sighs. “Still as pretty as ever.”

    I grimace at him, keeping my arms locked around Gracie.

    “Mama?” Gracie murmurs, still sleepy.

    “It’s almost morning,” the ghost laughs. “Don’t you want to get up and have something to eat?” he asks.

    “Even if I wanted to, I can’t,” I snarl at him.

    “Oh,” he chuckles. “Still hurt? Need me to carry you again?”

    I glare at him over Gracie’s head. “I told you not to touch me!” I snap.

    Gracie slips out from under my hand and looks up at the ghost in front of us. Her eyes go wide, and her jaw drops.

    “Gracie,” I gasp, trying to hold her, but she inches close, looking at the ghost with an awed expression.

    “What are you?” She asks. She reaches out, touching the ghost’s hair.

    The ghost laughs, kneeling down a bit to be at eye level with Gracie. “Something else,” he says.

    Gracie giggles and smiles up at him. “What’s your name?”

    “Oh, well, I’m glad you asked, little lady,” he says. He glances over at me, and I flinch, sucking in a breath as he does.

    “Why don’t you ask your mother for my name?” He points to me. “She knows me very well.”

    Gracie looks back at me with a wide expression. “Mama?”

    I stare at the ghost and shake my head. “I don’t know who you are,” I whisper. “I don’t know what you are!”

    He chuckles and turns his attention back to Gracie. “I suppose I’ve been gone too long,” he replies. “She doesn’t remember me, even though I used to mean so much to her.”

    Gracie frowns at me. “Do you really not remember him, Mama?”

    I huff and shake my head. “How would I know him?”

    “You know me very well, Ana,” he says with a dark voice. “I thought you’d wait on me. But apparently, you can’t be bothered.”

    My breath shudders and I swallow down the lump in my throat. “It can’t be,” I shake my head slowly.

    The ghost looks back to Gracie. “To be honest, little lady, it’s been a long time since anyone has even spoken my name. But I remember it. I remember how your mother used to say it to me.”

    Gracie tilted her head. “Did she?”

    He laughs and glances to me. “She did. Many times, and often with great joy.”

    I sniffle and shake my head. “It can’t be-” I whisper. A few tears slip down my cheeks, and my breath falters. 

    The ghost growls. “Say it, Ana.”

    “Herschel Fairlie,” I say as my voice cracks. “Shae?”

    Shae grins and laughs. “You finally remember me?”