The Night Train

by Christian Thomas Golden

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The crickets held their peace while the foghorn called to the shimmering lake, reflecting constellations as the fog began to clear, shifting and bending like fireflies in a mirror maze. The crowd departed from the nearby carnival to observe the rare occasion. “The Skeleton Carousel” they called it. All eyes on the lake as the water became still. No longer did they see a reflection of the night sky, but the dance of twinkling skeletons holding hands and laughing. The foghorn repeated its call. A wind began to blow, stirring up the still water. As the fog began to roll in, the crowd turned back to return to the carnival, only to find a dilapidated train station with an old, black coal-train waiting. The engineer called “All aboard the Night Train!”

Too often we set our minds on fantasies of foreign worlds, neglecting our present blessings. Let’s take this time to appreciate what gifts we’ve received before they turn to dust.

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