The First Train Outta Here

by The Red Parade

Chapter 2

The shriek of the whistle was the last thing she wanted to hear.

She paused in her work, looking up towards the railway that ran parallel to her land.

What was left of it anyways.

The sleek, black locomotive tore through the valley unrelentingly. It reminded her of the Timberwolves her grandmother would tell her about, the ones that once made the surrounding area uninhabitable. But then they, like so many other obstacles, were eradicated in the name of expansion. Now the city sprawled out across the land, belching smoke into the sky and tearing deep into the earth.

The wheels spun and axles shook, much like the twisted legs of a wolf or bear. Steam funneled out and spiraled into the air, and the entire frame hummed and shook violently as a twisted clash of metal and magic.

The abomination would run parallel to her, as it always would lest the tracks decided to move. It stalked the corners like a predator, forever closing in on her and forever lurking in the shadows.

She remembered the first time she had heard that feral contraption: she had only been a filly, but the shaking and screaming of its engines had brought her nightmares for days to come. It would chase her through the endless streets of the city, tearing through walls and buildings and horn wailing like a burning bat from hell.

Apple Fritter hated the city, and she was slowly growing more confident that the city shared the same sentiment.

She spat out her shovel and sighed, wiping her brow. Sweat and dirt clung to her pale coat and vibrant green mane, which hung in two braids down the side of her head.

The soil used to be richer. She remembered playing in it when her family had first arrived in Whinneapolis, when her father had that gleam in his eye and her mother would mock him for it.

She ran a hoof through it solemnly.

Apple Fritter looked back to the passing train and spat in its direction.

“Stupid city slickers.”

She fell onto her haunches and looked up at the sky. It was blue, once. Now she would be lucky to pick out a cloud from the blanket of smog that clung in the air.

Apple Fritter tried to think of the older days, when her family had talked of their bright future. When they had lived out their wildest fantasies and had been happy in this new land. Perhaps it was better that they were no longer here.

They would never see the city swallow up everything whole, gorging itself on dreams as if they were a buffet.

She tried to think of better times. She tried not to think about how there were only two dozen healthy apple trees left. She tried not to think about the pile of unopened letters on her desk. She tried not to think about any of it.

But the train’s horn wailed again, and reminded her that with the first train would come the devil incarnate herself.

Apple Fritter pulled herself to her hooves and kicked the soil in disgust.

This little patch of earth was all she had left.

It was a shame that the devil knew that too.