The girl on the Train tracks

As we drove towards Lungwood, a dark cloud merged over the village which could just be visible in the distance. I looked through the fog to see a little civilisation, surrounded by... Nothing. Just fields. There appeared to be no other cities or towns for miles, just one little road which we were to spend the remaining hour or so of our journey upon. As I turned around to look behind us, the previous village faded into the distance, until out of sight completely, and all in my view was the sky, the fields, and this endless seeming road.

A rain drop ran down the window, and i watched it run to the bottom of the window, until another raindrop fell above it and caught up with the first, invading it into a large drop, which was gradually destroyed as more and more raindrops fell down, following in their footsteps. Soon this downpour of rain was so hard that the tiresome road we were travelling on became a mere blur, covered with water hitting it in little droplets upon the hard ground. I bit my lip, contemplating how to get my things out of the taxi and into the B&B in the pouring rain as fast as possible, and trying to accept that I would get soaked.

" 'bout ten minutes and we should be at the B&B sir" the taxi driver informed me.

"Thank you. Do you think you could drive me up to the entrance so I can collect my belongings from the trunk?"

"Certainly Mr Pech."

As we stopped I climbed out of the taxi, immediately getting drenched in rainwater, and grabbed all my belongings as fast as I could. I payed the driver, and, giving my thanks, I ran into the entrance of the B&B, my shelter for the night.

It was quite homely looking and welcoming, and it appeared to be a renovated pub, with a small apartment for the owner upstairs which was visible from the outside. Almost entirely brick, and it appeared quite old, maybe built in Tudor times. It had the wooden pillars, the general look of such an assumption, but I could tell the brink was more recent. The door was newer, and the doorway had been rebuilt to fit guests entering or exiting with large amounts of luggage, which I was thankful for.

I entered the building, willing to escape from the rain. There was a big grandfather clock in the reception area to greet me. It was about to hit eight o'clock.

I came up to reception, and a middle aged woman welcomed me. She had frizzy hair in a bun, and a casual dress on, with a small apron. She looked a little lost in her own thoughts, as if she were in mourning, but I was not sure. She had dark eyes and her face seemed to reveal that she was crying, maybe about an hour before my meeting with her. It seemed my checking in had brought her back to reality and she forced a little smile.

"Good evening. I pre-booked for a room for tonight. I'm Mr Pech."

"Ah, yes. You are room 31. Here are the keys. First floor, at the end of the corridor to your right."

"Thank you"

I walked along these homely seeming corridors until I found my room. I unlocked the door and a blast of coldness hit me. It felt so unnatural, and none of the windows were even open. I noticed I was lucky enough to have a fireplace in my room, so after putting down my belongings, I checked with the B&B owners that it was fine to use it. I collected some tools to start the fire with and within a mere ten minutes the fire was started. I read a little more of my book by the fire until the room refilled with warmth. As I changed to prepare for bed, I noticed a photo in a frame, of the middle aged woman at the reception, a gentleman, who appeared in his mid forties, and a young girl, maybe eight or nine years of age. She had what I assumed (for of course the photograph was in black and white, but the shade of grey gave me such an idea) as brown, straight and long hair, styled beautifully. She had wide, pretty eyes and perfect skin. She looked naturally small for her age, but this was hard to tell. She was wearing a frilled dress with much detailing, with lace decorating parts of it. She had little black shoes on, and I could tell that her parents standing beside her must love her very much and take much consideration into her welfare and appearance. I then wondered if it were the father or daughter that had caused the middle aged woman's grief, and I delved into my own thoughts for a while.