The Whistle Pt.3
Posted by Derek Rizzo
Well here it is the final part. I’m sorry for the wait, but life intervened. Hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think. Thanks
Steve rode the elevator to the lobby, never conscious of the trip. The door opened and he exited, heading to the street in a daze. Someone was calling to him. They seemed excited about some box he had left in the elevator. Steve could only concentrate on the sound echoing violently around his mind. The whistling was so potent now it drowned out all other thoughts, but one: It was over! He had no job, No Jill, nothing. Nothing mattered, nothing tethered him here anymore. His feet shuffled him through town, his mind unaware of his passage. Deep sadness gripped him, how could she not love him, when he loved her so deeply? All those times they shared, all those happy moments, he was sure she loved him also. The whistle grew louder and louder. It would not stop. His heart pounded, darkness was taking over. He shuddered and then it happened; he gave up. His soul quit he could not face it. It was too big. It must end!
The whistling was next to him now, and Steve started. It was then that he realized, his body had brought him to the train station. It was the whistle of one of these engines he had heard, not his head. The train whistle had given him an idea, he knew how to end the pain. He moved through the turnstile, his sluggish feet suddenly found their stride, and he moved with purpose to the yellow warning stripe. Soon his salvation would come, and he would hurl himself in front of it. His head was suddenly quiet, the whistle was gone. He waited on the stripe that signaled danger beyond its borders, and was ready. Soon the whistle sounded, not in his head , but from the streaming silver chariot of doom, flying toward the station. The whistle he thought screamed his name. Then, as his despair was greatest, His sanity returned to him like an avalanche. The reality of his plan had hit him. The train was getting closer to the station, its whistle calling his name, no it was from behind him. There she was: Jill. She was calling to him from the back of the crowd that awaited the trains arrival. She had come and his soul was relieved, thrilled. Maybe she did love him after all. The train was entering the station as Steve turned to go to her. Suddenly, he felt himself falling! The whistle was screaming again, as the conductor threw the auxiliary brake, but it was too late. Somewhere in the crowd a woman screamed, and a tiny box fell silently to the ground.
About Derek RizzoAuthor and poet since I remember, I finally decided to live my dream. I'm writing a fantasy novel. Follow-me to share my progresses and glimpses of my story as it comes to life.
Posted on June 10, 2013, in Short Story and tagged death, love, Online Writing, Short Stories, Short story, story, Thebloggingwriter, train, Train station, whistle, Whistling, write, writer, writing, writing. author. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a Comment.