The End of the Railroad
In the small town of Big Wells, which consists of about a thousand people, everyone knows who everyone is. And as a young, restless teenager, there isn't much to do. Well, you could hang out with the kids who would vandalize other people's property, but chances are, you would probably get caught and be sent to juvenile detention hall. Besides, there was always that group of people around who happened to be watching your every move. I spent many days avoiding the hoodlum crowd, as well as being the subject of people's gossip. I also tried to stay away from the scorching heat of Texas summers. But then there were those days when I just wanted to be outside running around and playing whatever game came to mind. Fortunately, I had three brothers around to have fun with. From playing basketball in our back yard to taking walks in the woods, I could always count on them to do these things. One of our favorite pastimes was walking down the railroad tracks. They were only about a hundred yards away from our home. See, in earlier days, the train used to pass through our town in order to access the large farms that once existed in the area. We could always hear it as it approached our house. Sometimes, it was so annoying that we had to cover our ears. But on other days, it was a welcome sound. There was always a mystery of what was down the tracks. Although we knew they passed through the next, smaller town, we felt there was more to them. About six years ago, my brothers and I took one of these walks. We were very excited to know that we were going to go "all the way." By that I mean we wanted to go to the end of the tracks. I can say that it was like trying to reach the end of rainbow as silly as it may seem. We parted in the afternoon of a cloudy day in search for our pot of gold. There was a soft breeze blowing gently from the east, from the direction in which we were headed. Every step we took was translated into a crunch by the gray rocks that were under and in between the railroad ties. An occasional competition of who could walk the farthest without falling off the rail would arise and I don't think I ever won. Mesquite trees were all along the sides of the tracks. Some grew really high and others were short. They were somewhat scared of the train and would keep their distance. They knew that this powerful machine could end their existence with one passing. A barbed-wire fence also kept them in place. As we continued, I found vines wrapped around the tracks, objecting their presence by trying to squeeze the life out of them. They seemed like they were struggling and I knew that they would not win this battle. Some weeds had driven themselves between the rocks and through cracked ties. They would not let these obstacles stop them. A few birds would swoop down by us, chirping as they passed. They would perch on nearby trees and rest. I wanted to know if they were trying to scare us off or asking for help. I could never tell. I did find an old snakeskin in between the spikes and the tracks. At least this snake used it for a purpose of its own: to continue living, to shed off the old skin and start off anew. Old prickly pear cacti stood by with their yellow flowers in full bloom. They somehow didn't seem to mind the tracks. Little rabbits would scamper across our path several yards in front of us. They didn't stop to look at us; they just ran away at the noise of our footsteps. Perhaps it was their instinct that told them they were in danger, as harmless as we were. For most of the time that we walked, there was an eerie silence in the air. Almost like a calm before a storm. I thought it might begin to rain but the clouds did not look so ominous. I also thought of the train. What would we do if the train were coming? The simple solution was to get off the tracks and stand away from them. But there was still this unyielding fear. We knew that that is what the train would be, unyielding, should we be in its path. I imagined steel wheels on steel rails and the trembling of the ground beneath me. The screeching, made by this great machine as a frightened engineer is applying the brakes, overwhelmed my thoughts. The sound of cars crossing over tracks was heard in the distance. I found this to be oddly comforting. We had reached the next town, which is a really small town of several homes. We decided to turn back before we arrived there agreeing on not letting the passersby see us, for we wished not to be the topic of someone's conversation back home. The walk back would consist of three miles, which would amount to a total of six miles. We were not tired at all. There were so many wildflowers to look at. They ranged widely in their hues. Some were a deep purple and others were lavender. Some were yellow and others red. In all their differences, they had one thing in common: they were all beautiful. Far across the fence, we could see sparse cattle chewing away at the grass. They seemed so relaxed and without a fear in the world. There was silence again, only broken by our footsteps on the crunchy rocks. Once again, we enjoyed another game of walking on the tracks. Whoever fell first liked the ugly girl in school. That was the only way I could stay on as long as everybody else. What a feeling we felt. Breathing in the air, looking at the sky and having fun. We felt free. There was no one around to prohibit us from doing anything. It was our moment. I noticed that we were getting closer to home already. We walked three miles and did not notice the time pass. As we approached, the sides of the tracks turned into ditches or rather small ravines. They had a lot of weeds and shrubs, which were all thorny. We were confined to walking only on the tracks. We wanted to make these last few hundred meters worth it so we walked slowly. I happened to look over my shoulder just out of curiosity and my heart stopped. I had not heard the steel wheels nor had I felt the ground tremble. I had not even heard the sound of its loud horn. With a shout, I turned around and began to run. My brothers joined me in my flight. Since we did not want to risk injury by thorns or snakes by jumping to the sides of the railroad, we ran for the nearest clearing. It seemed like an eternity trying to reach our "get off" point. It was like running on a conveyor belt. When we finally made it, our hearts were beating rapidly and we were sweating profusely. Adrenalin raced through our veins. We stood together as the train passed us by without a sound. We almost became the meal of this horrendous creature. And we loved it! We ran home in our excitement to tell of our experience to see if we could make our mother pass out. It didn't work. We will never forget that day. The railroad has long been decommissioned in our little town. But the memories are far from dying out. Of course, you can still find the group who dines on anything their grubby ears can get a hold of; only their faces are now even more wrinkled. And the kids or should I say young adults, who vandalized private property as well as public, are still around entertaining themselves with their mischievous habits. I still try to avoid the sizzling summers by staying inside and having an ice-cold glass of water. Every now and then, I get an urge to get up and walk to the end of the railroad