Rough Draft: Death’s Rail

In the manner of an apology, I present these diverse works, for time like a thief has stolen upon me, and nothing have I completed. They are in rough form, both advances upon a single idea from different approaches. The first is a rhythmic poem, the second narrative prose, following the seed of an idea, riding the rail to Hades. 

<A touch of onomatopoeia>

Chuga Chuga Chuga Chuga
Chuga Chuga Chuga Chuga
Chuga Chuga Chuga Chuga
Wa—waa

<An opening chorus>

Rattling down Vulcan forged tracks the
train through mires plow desert’d land
past life’s final curtain closing:
Death’s Rail.

<And the narrative>

It seemed I dozed, for waking from cold tingling limbs, I found myself at the station deserted. Shaking myself with a start, I made to stand, but found my aged body numb, deaf to all command. It was I still dreamed, I thought, or that wakeful paralysis intermingling nightmare with reality had washed over me, crushing my chest. Upon the bench I sat alone. No men, nor demons either, manifested.

And then the train rolled into the station.