Small stone: waiting

The husk of a deserted building stands behind me as I await the train. A canopy tilts in overhead. Its teeth-like edge reminds of an old football ground, of a small stand with a long uncovered ‘terrace’ further on. The platform stretches away from me, towards the last stop. This is my stop. The start of my journey home. It sits in the shadows of modern bridge and the dust of demolition. Windows and doors are boarded up, excluding, shutting out. The ticket offices are long gone. With them the staff. With them the soul. Passengers wait in the quiet desolation of wilderness where laws go unsupported and an electronic voice sings to us laments of times and departures.

IMG_6397

Image copyright Malek Montag

About malekmontag

I am a writer and a wage-slave, and proud father of George Giraffe. I live in the UK, but I exist everywhere. My first stories were published this year (2016) in Short Stories and Tall Tales (Atla Publishing). Follow me on Twitter @Malek_Montag15. My Work is also available on Niume.com.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Small stone: waiting

  1. SM Jenkin says:

    I love this particular line ” Passengers wait in the quiet desolation of wilderness where laws go unsupported and an electronic voice sings to us laments of times and departures.” Beautiful, poignant, good work

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s