The Train Takes a Soul

Summary

"The Train Takes a Soul" is a flash fiction short story about loss and grief, centered around a young woman named Sassy who loses her child and struggles with the aftermath.

Abstract

"The Train Takes a Soul" is a poignant flash fiction short story that explores the themes of loss, grief, and the lingering impact of tragedy on a small town. The story revolves around Sassy, a young woman who loses her child and becomes emotionally unstable, and Arnie, the child's father who is unable to cope with the situation. The narrative unfolds in a gritty, realistic setting, highlighting the harsh realities of life in a small town. The story is a powerful exploration of the human condition and the lasting effects of trauma.

Opinions

The author effectively conveys the sense of loss and grief that permeates the town, highlighting the impact of tragedy on a community.
The characters of Sassy and Arnie are well-developed and relatable, making the story emotionally resonant.
The use of flash fiction as a medium allows the author to pack a powerful emotional punch in a short amount of time.
The story is a critique of the societal expectations placed on young mothers, highlighting the lack of support and understanding they often receive.
The author's use of vivid imagery and sensory details adds depth and richness to the story.
The story raises questions about the nature of responsibility and accountability, particularly in the context of relationships and parenthood.
The author's writing style is engaging and evocative, drawing the reader in and keeping them invested in the story until the end.

a flash fiction, short story, of loss

Every couple of years, the train takes a soul. We lift the mothers from their knees, red and blue lights flashing like ghosts through the trees. The wailings of a mother can’t be scraped from the ground, can’t be zipped up in a bag and carried off. The wailings of a mother linger, permeating a town with a dark richness, a sinking feeling that grows in with the weeds. The stink can’t be washed away.

Arnie Westbrook, at the age of 17, fathered one of these missing souls in the back of his grandfather’s Chevelle. It seemed a good idea at the time. He couldn’t be bothered with the kid, but Sassy was never quite the same. He blotted her tear-streaked face from his mind, swallowed the last of his beer. The can buckled underfoot, grinding in the gravel, a hollow crunch lost in the night.

Sassy spilled out the doors of War Dawg’s, ushering out the sound of billiards and drunken laughter with her sway. A tallish man with a generous belly pressing the buttons tight on his shirt laughed and slipped an arm around the sloppy young woman, expertly sliding a hand underneath her shirt. Together they leaned into a stumble and shuffle toward a beige Ford truck.

Arnie loaded his rifle and tucked himself a bit further down behind the discarded tote bins. A musky chemical smell nauseated him as he pressed his face in closer, straining his ears to catch what they were saying. Just broken, slurry syllables drifted across the lot. Then swearing, as Sassy stooped at the back tire, urinating right through her jeans.

When the boot-clad man kicked Sassy over into the gravel, Arnie took aim. Rage trembled in his hands.

“Filthy bitch!” The bearded man grabbed Sassy by the hair and drug her away from the back of his truck, leaving her in a heap of hysterical laughter mixed with racking sobs. She covered her head with her hands and curled up where she lay.

Arnie waited until the dust settled and the roar of the truck’s engine faded into the night.

“…but I wanna go to the grave…”

“I’m taking you home, Sassy.”

“Wha’ the hell do you care anyways? You wer’n even there!”

“You don’t mean that, Sas.”

“Yes, I do.” Sassy’s head bobbed against the window. Arnie reached for her hand but she swatted him away.

“One ‘a these days…they gonna scrape me up off them tracks too.”

“Don’t say that Sas’.” Arnie replied, knowing full well she was already there. Already split open, shattered. The train with her soul, long gone.

This is my first piece of flash fiction, written with the intent on it being flash fiction. As I am new to this style of writing, I welcome any critiques or thoughts. I have written other short pieces of fiction, but was not editing for concision as much as flash fiction requires. Perhaps they do qualify as flash fiction? I’ll let you flash fiction regulars decide on that… Clarity Vacant