It started as a murmur in the center of the town, the throngs of people whispering among themselves about the arrival of some very important person. Over the tops of lush trees, far in the distance, a plume of smoke could be seen. Andre stepped out of his home to watch the crowd grow larger with each passing minute. With his camera in hand, he snapped a few pictures of the townsfolk. “Picklefort doesn’t receive many visitors,” one woman started to her friend beside her in the crowd, “so I wonder why they’re here.” Rumors began to bounce around, the murmur shifting into a cacophony of explanations, each one more exaggerated than the last. Like ants, the crowd shuffled through the town, leaving the center and moving towards the station. Andre followed, just as curious about the arrival. As the train turned hugged the final bend in the tracks, the smoke washed over the trees and soot trickled down like snowflakes as the train grinded to a halt.
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July 2020
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for "Firelight"
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