Velvet Wood

Velvet Wood

“You can still hear that haunted whistle from the train,” my Grandmother told us, her eyes wide, her hands making movements from left to right, up and down in front of our dying fireplace “my brothers and I would always follow its tracks when we were young and adventurous.”

                “But Grandmother,” My little brother piped up “how could you have followed the tracks if you can’t even see them? You say you once tried to find them again when you were older, yet could not”

                Grandma smiled mysteriously and replied in a whisper “only those who have the right intentions may see them. See, these are not just any train tracks; they’re magical train tracks, which carry a train unlike any other upon their moss covered rails.”

                As Grandma spoke, her words disappeared and pictures began to form in our minds of how her and her brothers used to venture out, arms full of their satchels and pick-nick baskets, faces stained red from eating wild berries from the woods they were exploring, feet squelching within their sodden wellingtons and their breath forming white puffs in front of their faces, obscuring the view before them.





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Above is the beginning of a new story I have been working on, inspired by the photograph below. I believe this story will be quite interesting as soon as I work out the plot!