Writing Prompt “Train Station”

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Theme: This post is for stories related to the prompt: “Train Station”.

Maybe while waiting for the train you have a chance encounter with a beautiful woman, perhaps you find a mysterious suitcase waiting on the platform with your name on it, perhaps the station is haunted but you’re the only one who can see the spirit of the one who threw themselves onto the tracks, perhaps you must slay the dragon living in the train station bathroom or exterminate the trolls demanding a toll for the train to pass (which is very inconvenient – making everyone late for work), perhaps it is a post-apocalyptic train station that you’ve made your home and now you must defend it from a band of marauders.

Whatever the scenario, feel free to use this image as inspiration, as it was my inspiration for this prompt.

Story Requirements: 

  • Must be in 1st person
  • The main scene must take place in a train station.

Word Count: 1200 is the word count goal, but for those more ambitious folks, it can be up to 2,000.




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Please Note: Comments may be considered “published” in regards to other contest requirements.

All stories are fall under general copyright laws. No part may be reproduced without the express consent of the respective author.

Story Submission Rules:
  1. Stories should be in English and your own work.
  2. Stories must fit into a single comment box, 1200 is the word count goal, but can be up to 2,000.
  3. Please title your story.

 

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4 thoughts on “Writing Prompt “Train Station”

  • August 14, 2017 at 10:37 pm
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    THE TRAIN

    I’m fed up with him, and that’s a fact. Why? Well, let me count the ways.

    The walks in all weathers – snow, wind, rain, freezing cold – when all I want is to be in the warm. Walks are necessary, sure. Five minutes would be enough, though, surely? But no. We have to traipse up hill, down dale. It gets on my nerves, I can tell you. Course, it’s all the wife’s doing – giving her orders.

    Speaking of walks … pooing. That’s another thing. I might choose the perfect spot for it and off he goes, pulling me away to some other spot that HE thinks is perfect. Also, I think we can agree that pooing is natural, but having to use those bags? That’s not natural. That’s disgusting! Handling that sh– … stuff.

    Another thing that gets on my nerves? The cuddles. He’s so bloody needy! But me, I hate physical contact, and every time I have to ‘give him a bit of love’, well … it almost makes me want to throw up. I might be lying on the sofa, trying to take a nap, and there he is, forcing his snout into my neck. Sickening. But he insists, and there’s no getting away from it.

    And the noise! Don’t get me started! I want to have a nice snooze and there he is, starting up with his noise again. I want to get some sleep sometimes, doesn’t he know that? I NEED to get some sleep. Doesn’t he realise I need my sleep?! My god! Talk about selfish!

    Oh and the smell! He smells to high heaven! You might say that’s his natural scent, but I don’t buy it. Can’t he wash himself? Does he have to go around all day like that, stinking the house out? The wife doesn’t seem to mind, but I do.

    I can’t think of any off the top of my head, but I’m sure there are loads more reasons why I hate him, and why I’m thinking these dark thoughts now.

    You see, we’re at this station, on the platform, by the newspaper kiosk. We’ve just had our evening walk, and as we were passing, I decided I’d like to spend some time on the platform … as you do. So I pulled him to here – he didn’t really want to come – to the edge of the platform.

    It’s cold, the coldest night for a long time. I bet he wants to get back in the warm, just as I do. But this thought has suddenly entered my brain: if I hate him so much, why don’t I do something about it?

    A train has come past already – one of the old ones, huffing and puffing and clanking and clunking – right by us. You could almost touch it, it was that close. So I was thinking: what if I just, you know … cause him to end up under the next one.

    I know it will make a mess, but I’m sure it’s nothing the station people haven’t seen before. The only question in my mind – now that I’ve decided that yes, I want to do it – is whether I’ll be able to when the time comes.

    I think I will. I’ll have to manoeuvre him closer still to the edge, then when the train comes, a quick yank and … BANG! It’ll all be over. I’ll be free of him. Freedom. What a sweet word! No more enforced hikes. No more noise. No more smell. No more unwanted cuddles.

    Of course, I’ll have to find new owners – or they’ll have to find me. I can’t be on the street too long without a good solid meal and shelter from the cold. But I feel sure someone will appear. And they can’t possibly be as tiresome as this great big lump and his wife. I’m grateful that they never put a tag on my collar – I’ll get to the other side of town where they don’t know me; I wouldn’t want to find myself back in that place, after all. And–

    Hang on! Here comes the next train now, faster than the other one. This is it. Get ready …

    .

    Reply
  • August 16, 2017 at 3:41 pm
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    Phil!!!!!!!!!!
    What a horribly fabulously written story!!!

    I’m guessing it’s a damn Chihuahua. Or some other little lap dog!

    I enjoyed the pacing quite a bit, you let us know what species the narrator was right off the bat, I think I would have liked it to be more of a reveal. But on the flip side it really sets the tone as a whiny little ungrateful snot.

    Great job!

    Reply
  • August 17, 2017 at 7:31 am
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    Thanks, Carrie!

    I was a little disappointed that you realised so quickly who the narrator was – I wanted it to be ambiguous, so I tried to make the complaints ascribable to either character … obviously failing in the process! 🙁

    (One of the things, though, is that in Britain, reference to ‘the wife’ could be the husband talking about his own wife. Maybe in the US that isn’t the case, which will of course give the game away. I could perhaps have used something like ‘her indoors’, or ‘she who must be obeyed’ … easy in retrospect …)

    Thanks again for reading and commenting, anyway.

    Reply

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