There is something comforting to me in the sound of a train whistle blowing and the rumbling of its cars rolling on the tracks. Trains and the soft sound of rain drops hitting the ground always take me back to that place where everything was young and innocent. (at least to me.)
This is my posted submission for the Daily Post Writing Challenge http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_writing_challenge/editing-challenge/
The loud whistle sounds, first long and lingering, then short staccato bursts that pronounce their arrival, momentarily breaking the monotonous silence. Vehicles lined up behind the blinking red lights and barrier arms. Traffic came to a halt, when the rumbling wheels rolled through. BNSF (Burlington Northern Santa Fe) and the Rio Grand faithfully kept to scheduled runs through quiet country towns. They were as predictable as old Western television reruns.
I could be lulled to sleep at night with train whistles and their endless line of cars making its slow, sluggish way across wide open prairies, their tracks crisscrossing fields of wheat and corn before climbing their way up over the foothills, through the Rocky Mountains until finally disappearing out of sight, out of hearing range, but not out of mind…
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