Short Stories

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Sleek and metallic, it sped down the tracks. As the front of the metal carriage, it was responsible for turning down the right tracks and guiding others home. The one responsible for it was large and irrelevant. Fast, strong, long, it held it, passengers, safely. Protecting them as a mother would her child. Heaters in the metal box kept them warm as they pass a wall of colours by the coast.

Green, red, blue, it passed them all. Safe, sweet and sleepy the children headed to bed. The darkening sky of the stormy evening made the comfort of how that much more welcoming. Whilst the parents had their alone time and the children were asleep; the grandparents watched their shows and it sped by.

Freezing and cold the icy waves clambered up the sand stained columns. Dull as they are it was the only thing they could do. Their bland grey colour and the dirty white foam swirled together in plain sight. Unlovingly pushing and pulling by the coast its inhabitants felt its cruel detachment. It twisted and turned preparing another attack as the rainbow buildings stood by.

Crash. It threw itself over, hitting the carriages on the way. The cozy indoors were thrown into disarray as the harsh salty spray trickled down the outside. Large and intimidating it had hurled itself into the side of the metal carriage going high above the roof. Sinking back into the waves before striking again.

Inside the container, they stirred, only for a moment. Only for a minute did they wake- before the shock passed and they fell back into their slumber. The one in front still unaware. And those in the warmth dozing off. Going into the night, those perishing waves stayed constantly fighting, slowly, steadily (and eventually) winning against the ever crumbling stone wall.