Fire and Pain

I am standing by the train tracks behind a house that has belonged to my family for generations. It is a the bottom of a long, shallow hill. The tracks go onward to my left and right, running away into my periphery. All that there is to see, is myself and my family on this summer evening. 

The sun is setting behind the tree up on the hill, and the sky is illuminated with the fading hues of blue, orange, and violet. The air is cool, but humid. I can feel the presence of family members around me, both close and distant, but through the fog of my dreamy eyes, I cannot see their faces clearly. It feels as though this is a special time. 

And then we hear it; the sound of metal rolling on metal, the evolution of a primitive devise employed by man’s lust for progress. The train car flies by with incredible speed, much too fast for the era it belongs to. It is a caboose, the antiquated-style seen in so many westerns and adventure movies. It is the last thing you see as a loving hand waves goodbye and disappears in the void of time. However, this particular car is empty. As are the other, numerous caboose cars that scream past so quickly every minute or so. My family and I laugh and cheer. This continues for some time, as it happens in dreams, until there is a noticeable lapse in time, and the event has worn out its welcome. 

At this point, I look down the tracks to see yet another car coming down the tracks, only this one is spewing flames from its doors and windows. I then hear a sound from the opposite end of the tracks, and turn to see another caboose roaring down the way. There isn’t much time to react, as they are upon us in seconds, colliding with such force that shrapnel and debris are flung about. I hear yelling and screaming amid the explosions, and I duck and cover as best I can. 

The next thing I know, I’m inside a house - not sure which, though it doesn’t feel like the one from before - that has caught fire and everyone is fleeing to get out. People are in a panic, and grabbing their things as fast as they can, tripping over themselves in the process. The walls are covered in flame, and I’m pushing people out, yelling at them to go outside. The last thing I remember is seeing people flee the house through a doorway wreathed in flame, and I feel the scorching heat on my face.