Dark Horse

[Robert James Russell]

The Lake Shore and Michigan Southern Train No. 5 which was called “The Pacific Express” left Erie, Pennsylvania on the afternoon of December 29, 1876, having to be pushed through mounting drifts of snow by four thick-ironed and black-steeled pusher locomotives. Engineer Dan McGuire humped along the cap of the lead engine Socrates as the coupling rod forced the driving wheels along the iced tracks, the sound like a flock of birds haggling for respite after a long sojourn. He bundled the furred lapel of his browned greatcoat against his neck and pulled down the small hat that sat on his bottled head and cursed the cold silently to himself while rubbing the frost on the small glass pane of one the cab’s windows in a tight and circular motion with one of his cuffs. He looked out onto Lake Erie, the snow and ice and white bleeding together into one vast and never-ending horizon, the water existing somewhere beyond where he could see. The flurried snowstorms seemed to bring the cousined shores closer together, and with every wicked breath Nature spewed, Dan felt a shutter rack its way down his back. He erected himself sharply and felt a burp come up in his throat then slid the window open and inhaled a fix of bitter air, unaware that in a few short hours he would be dead.

[Robert James Russell]

Thanks! I actually was doing some research into this train accident (with the above-mentioned train) for a short story, but scrapped the idea then came back and wrote this. Turns out he did indeed die. :(

[Jenny]

Lots of tight, concise imagery. You set the scene...now I must wait... for what?
Fave: sound like a flock of birds haggling for respite" - "the snow and ice and white bleeding together"

[Angela]

"...every wicked breath Nature spewed..." was an inspired phrase. I did not see his death creeping up on him. Is there more to the story?