He saw it coming, like a train off in the distance, lumbering, rumbling, roaring toward him, smoke billowing, as moans and screams rose up like an echo.
But he dared not step off the tracks. He dared not look too long nor dwell upon the earth as it began to move ever so slightly beneath him. Instead, he turned around and stared off in the other direction, at the open tracks, the blue skies, the silver clouds hanging like half-dead helium balloons up ahead.
He stared miles off in the distance, and did his best to keep his balance, as he walked.
Looking back only reminded him of what was coming. Knowing he was about to be struck down would only make it hurt longer—hurt more.
And stepping off the tracks was out of the question, for without them, he knew not where he was headed.
He only hoped there wasn’t another train, just around the bend.