I've only recently visited SmashBoards again for the first time in a few months, but it occurred to me that despite the fact that i'm in university studying creative writing, i've never posted any of my writing on here. So i thought it would.
It's not fan fiction, but it's a short story i wrote for my writing fiction class. I don't know if it'll appeal to anyone on here, but what the hell. It's worth posting. I'll post other stuff possibly.
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Smiling at Strangers on Trains
George had loved trains since he was a young boy. He would hear the far-off toot of a whistle and the rumble of the locomotive on the tracks and rush out of his house down to the line to watch the engine speed past. It was a childhood fascination that he never grew out of, and at many times throughout his life George dreamt of leaving whatever job he was doing at the time and becoming a train driver, or a conductor. Anything that would take him where the trains went. As the years went by George wished that he could fulfil his dream, but he never had the money. He had Rose, his wife, to think about, too.
When he retired George found himself with a lot of free time on his hands. Yes, there was his garden to tend to, but he could only weed it so much before he was just pulling up the flowers. He had his three beautiful grandchildren to think about too, but they only visited once a week, on a Sunday, and while he enjoyed making small wooden toys for them in his shed, they didn’t take up hours of his time.
Rose was worried about George. She didn’t like to admit it to herself, but the man she had loved for 45 years was becoming restless. Their son had been talking about a car boot sale that was going to be held not far from where they lived and had offered to take them. It was the perfect excuse to get him out of the house.
It was at the car boot sale where George found the painting of a steam engine. He had had so much on his mind because of the retirement that he had forgotten about the trains. How could he forget about the trains? If he became a conductor it would be the perfect way to take up his time. George bought the painting and hung it proudly above the fireplace.
Unfortunately, when he went to his local train station to ask about a job as a conductor, the gentleman in the office informed him that there were no jobs available.
“Sorry mate, we’re pretty packed up here, there’s no vacancies at all.” George was crushed. His final chance of living his dream had disappeared in front of his eyes. He didn’t want to go home to weed his garden again. It was there that George made a decision. He chose to buy a ticket. He didn’t know where to, but he had a little bit of money with him.
“I’d like a return please,” George said.
“To where?” said the woman in the ticket office.
“I’m not sure, my love,” said George. “However far I can travel for a fiver.” The woman handed over George’s ticket, and he caught his train.
When George got home that night, Rose rushed to the door to see him. She had been worried when her husband didn’t come home when she expected him. But when she opened the door with a frown on her face, George was smiling. He told her of his day, and how he had finally gone where the trains went.
“I might not be able to work on the trains, but I’ll **** well go where they go,” he said.
The following morning George woke early and went to the train station. He randomly picked a destination, bought a ticket, and caught the train. He began doing this at least twice a week, with no idea of where he would travel to until he reached the station. At first, as usual, Rose was concerned, but as the weeks went by she became used to George’s little trips. Sometimes he’d come back with a present for her, a little trinket from some coastal town miles away, and sometimes he’d come back with a story to tell. Sometimes he’d come back with nothing at all, apart from the smile on his face. If it makes George happy, it makes me happy, is what Rose would think.
Will Perkins worked at the station maintaining the ticket barriers and working in the ticket office. He first began to notice George after a few weeks. At first, the old man passed by, like all the other passengers. If by a chance Will did notice him, he was just an old man who had somewhere to be. When the flat cap and neatly trimmed moustache started to become familiar though, Will would watch George carefully. The old man came to the station two or three times a week, and would always catch different trains. It was strange.
“John, have you seen that old bloke who comes here all the time?” said Will to a fellow worker at the station.
“Aye,” said John. “He’s a bit strange, ain’t he?”
Will nodded. “You got that right.”
“I think he’s lovely,” said Mary, one of the women who worked at the café. “I’ve served him a few times and he’s a very pleasant old man.”
“You know what they say about men like him mind,” said John. He swirled his finger around the side of his head. “Coo-coo. There’s an old woman like it down by me. She leaves her house in the morning and just wanders around the town all day. I nearly ran her over once. She’s just bloody gone in the head.”
Will wasn’t listening, he nodded absent mindedly. George had arrived at the station, and he watched him walking over to a train.
“Oh bloody ‘ell, there he is now,” said John.
“I’m going to go talk to him,” said Will, and he walked over to George and began a conversation.
It didn’t take long for Will to make friends with George, now that he’d discovered the old man’s love for trains. Soon John followed and began to talk to him, and within a few weeks the entire staff at the station had become firm friends with George. They expected him each week like clockwork, on Wednesday and Saturday mornings, and each week he turned up, dressed in his sleeveless jacket and flat cap, ready for his day of travelling. Seeing the old man arrive made them all smile, but nobody enjoyed seeing him more than Will. George broke up Will’s routine, giving him a friend other than the staff to talk to. He’d tell him about the places he’d visit, and about his wife Rose. He’d tell him about his grandchildren and the things he’d make them, and Will appreciated everything he was told.
“Where are you off to today then?” Will would ask whenever he’d see his old friend.
“Wherever the tracks take me,” George would reply, and he’d hop onto whatever train he was catching, raise his cap, and wave farewell for the day.
George began to become familiar with the people who caught the trains. Of course there were people who just had to be somewhere, but there were also people who caught the trains as regularly as he did. There was the mother and her two children, the young man with the beard who never noticed anything because he always had his headphones on, the businessman, and the young couple. There were more, and as time went on George made a point of smiling at these familiar people whenever they made eye contact. The mother always smiled back, as did the businessman, but others didn’t, no matter how many times they’d encounter him. George thought that the dirty looks the young couple gave him hinted that they thought of him as some weird old man who smiled at them in a perverted way. It never deterred him, though, and they never smiled back.
The months went by in a flash. Will would go about his work, and would expect George at least twice a week, if not more. They’d talk; George would board his train and disappear for the day, and when he returned they’d talk again. George was a regular part of life at the train station.
One week George didn’t turn up, and the station seemed quiet. Will thought nothing of it. Maybe his old friend was ill, or was busy with his grandchildren. When one week turned into two, then three and then four, he became concerned. There had to be something wrong to be keeping George away for so long.
“You don’t think anything’s happened to him?” asked Will.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” said John.
“You know, because he’s elderly and everything.”
“I know, but you won’t do yourself any favours thinking like that.”
Will put his hands to his head. “He’s such a close friend, I feel like I know everything about him.” He laughed softly. “Everything aside from how to get in touch with him.”
Later that week a familiar face walked through the doors of the station. Will’s face lit up at the sight of his old friend, but George looked different. He looked smaller, more fragile.
“George! It’s so good to have you back,” said Will, but the old man didn’t smile.
“I’m just coming to tell you about Rose,” said George. “She became ill a few weeks ago. We had the doctor around and he said to take her into hospital. They tried their best, but she passed away on the fourth of June.”
Will felt his heart sink. He felt like a huge weight was crushing him from above. He didn’t understand it, but the death of a woman he had never met pained him more than he could imagine.
“George. I’m so sorry,” he said.
“Thank you, Will. I need to tell you that I won’t be making my trips anymore. I don’t think that I could do it anymore without Rose around. This is goodbye, Will.” The two friends embraced, and before Will knew it, George was gone.
The next few months at the station were painfully slow. Without George, everything was strange. It was the same old routine again. Some men grew used to the absence of George, and many of them almost forgot about him, but not Will. He was disheartened.
“How’s things?” John would ask. But Will would only give a weak smile and continue with his work. The men at the station began to worry about him. They missed George, but they never thought that him being gone would affect anyone the way Will was affected.
Then one day, George came back. It was a usual Tuesday morning. The sun was glinting off the top of the trains that sat in the station. Will stood at the ticket barrier waiting for the first arrival of passengers, when the doors to the station opened and in walked an old man with a neatly trimmed moustache and a flat cap. He was overjoyed, and as the men at the station noticed George walking in, they each shook his hand and welcomed him back. Nobody asked him what made him decide to come back, they were just glad that he was back, and nobody was gladder than Will.
The only question that was asked that day was by Will. “Where are you off to today then, George?” he asked.
“Wherever the tracks take me,” replied the old man as he hopped onto a train, and with a wave of his cap, he was gone for the day, and things were back to the way they should be.
Will once asked George is he would ever stop again, if he’d tend his garden or make little things for his grandchildren in his shed, do more important things. George would reply that he’d never stop coming. That all the things were as important to him, and that he loved the trains. And Will never asked again.
After all, to George, there was no better way to spend his remaining days than smiling at strangers on trains, and was the way he intended on keeping it.
It's not fan fiction, but it's a short story i wrote for my writing fiction class. I don't know if it'll appeal to anyone on here, but what the hell. It's worth posting. I'll post other stuff possibly.
--------------------------------
Smiling at Strangers on Trains
George had loved trains since he was a young boy. He would hear the far-off toot of a whistle and the rumble of the locomotive on the tracks and rush out of his house down to the line to watch the engine speed past. It was a childhood fascination that he never grew out of, and at many times throughout his life George dreamt of leaving whatever job he was doing at the time and becoming a train driver, or a conductor. Anything that would take him where the trains went. As the years went by George wished that he could fulfil his dream, but he never had the money. He had Rose, his wife, to think about, too.
When he retired George found himself with a lot of free time on his hands. Yes, there was his garden to tend to, but he could only weed it so much before he was just pulling up the flowers. He had his three beautiful grandchildren to think about too, but they only visited once a week, on a Sunday, and while he enjoyed making small wooden toys for them in his shed, they didn’t take up hours of his time.
Rose was worried about George. She didn’t like to admit it to herself, but the man she had loved for 45 years was becoming restless. Their son had been talking about a car boot sale that was going to be held not far from where they lived and had offered to take them. It was the perfect excuse to get him out of the house.
It was at the car boot sale where George found the painting of a steam engine. He had had so much on his mind because of the retirement that he had forgotten about the trains. How could he forget about the trains? If he became a conductor it would be the perfect way to take up his time. George bought the painting and hung it proudly above the fireplace.
Unfortunately, when he went to his local train station to ask about a job as a conductor, the gentleman in the office informed him that there were no jobs available.
“Sorry mate, we’re pretty packed up here, there’s no vacancies at all.” George was crushed. His final chance of living his dream had disappeared in front of his eyes. He didn’t want to go home to weed his garden again. It was there that George made a decision. He chose to buy a ticket. He didn’t know where to, but he had a little bit of money with him.
“I’d like a return please,” George said.
“To where?” said the woman in the ticket office.
“I’m not sure, my love,” said George. “However far I can travel for a fiver.” The woman handed over George’s ticket, and he caught his train.
When George got home that night, Rose rushed to the door to see him. She had been worried when her husband didn’t come home when she expected him. But when she opened the door with a frown on her face, George was smiling. He told her of his day, and how he had finally gone where the trains went.
“I might not be able to work on the trains, but I’ll **** well go where they go,” he said.
The following morning George woke early and went to the train station. He randomly picked a destination, bought a ticket, and caught the train. He began doing this at least twice a week, with no idea of where he would travel to until he reached the station. At first, as usual, Rose was concerned, but as the weeks went by she became used to George’s little trips. Sometimes he’d come back with a present for her, a little trinket from some coastal town miles away, and sometimes he’d come back with a story to tell. Sometimes he’d come back with nothing at all, apart from the smile on his face. If it makes George happy, it makes me happy, is what Rose would think.
Will Perkins worked at the station maintaining the ticket barriers and working in the ticket office. He first began to notice George after a few weeks. At first, the old man passed by, like all the other passengers. If by a chance Will did notice him, he was just an old man who had somewhere to be. When the flat cap and neatly trimmed moustache started to become familiar though, Will would watch George carefully. The old man came to the station two or three times a week, and would always catch different trains. It was strange.
“John, have you seen that old bloke who comes here all the time?” said Will to a fellow worker at the station.
“Aye,” said John. “He’s a bit strange, ain’t he?”
Will nodded. “You got that right.”
“I think he’s lovely,” said Mary, one of the women who worked at the café. “I’ve served him a few times and he’s a very pleasant old man.”
“You know what they say about men like him mind,” said John. He swirled his finger around the side of his head. “Coo-coo. There’s an old woman like it down by me. She leaves her house in the morning and just wanders around the town all day. I nearly ran her over once. She’s just bloody gone in the head.”
Will wasn’t listening, he nodded absent mindedly. George had arrived at the station, and he watched him walking over to a train.
“Oh bloody ‘ell, there he is now,” said John.
“I’m going to go talk to him,” said Will, and he walked over to George and began a conversation.
It didn’t take long for Will to make friends with George, now that he’d discovered the old man’s love for trains. Soon John followed and began to talk to him, and within a few weeks the entire staff at the station had become firm friends with George. They expected him each week like clockwork, on Wednesday and Saturday mornings, and each week he turned up, dressed in his sleeveless jacket and flat cap, ready for his day of travelling. Seeing the old man arrive made them all smile, but nobody enjoyed seeing him more than Will. George broke up Will’s routine, giving him a friend other than the staff to talk to. He’d tell him about the places he’d visit, and about his wife Rose. He’d tell him about his grandchildren and the things he’d make them, and Will appreciated everything he was told.
“Where are you off to today then?” Will would ask whenever he’d see his old friend.
“Wherever the tracks take me,” George would reply, and he’d hop onto whatever train he was catching, raise his cap, and wave farewell for the day.
George began to become familiar with the people who caught the trains. Of course there were people who just had to be somewhere, but there were also people who caught the trains as regularly as he did. There was the mother and her two children, the young man with the beard who never noticed anything because he always had his headphones on, the businessman, and the young couple. There were more, and as time went on George made a point of smiling at these familiar people whenever they made eye contact. The mother always smiled back, as did the businessman, but others didn’t, no matter how many times they’d encounter him. George thought that the dirty looks the young couple gave him hinted that they thought of him as some weird old man who smiled at them in a perverted way. It never deterred him, though, and they never smiled back.
The months went by in a flash. Will would go about his work, and would expect George at least twice a week, if not more. They’d talk; George would board his train and disappear for the day, and when he returned they’d talk again. George was a regular part of life at the train station.
One week George didn’t turn up, and the station seemed quiet. Will thought nothing of it. Maybe his old friend was ill, or was busy with his grandchildren. When one week turned into two, then three and then four, he became concerned. There had to be something wrong to be keeping George away for so long.
“You don’t think anything’s happened to him?” asked Will.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” said John.
“You know, because he’s elderly and everything.”
“I know, but you won’t do yourself any favours thinking like that.”
Will put his hands to his head. “He’s such a close friend, I feel like I know everything about him.” He laughed softly. “Everything aside from how to get in touch with him.”
Later that week a familiar face walked through the doors of the station. Will’s face lit up at the sight of his old friend, but George looked different. He looked smaller, more fragile.
“George! It’s so good to have you back,” said Will, but the old man didn’t smile.
“I’m just coming to tell you about Rose,” said George. “She became ill a few weeks ago. We had the doctor around and he said to take her into hospital. They tried their best, but she passed away on the fourth of June.”
Will felt his heart sink. He felt like a huge weight was crushing him from above. He didn’t understand it, but the death of a woman he had never met pained him more than he could imagine.
“George. I’m so sorry,” he said.
“Thank you, Will. I need to tell you that I won’t be making my trips anymore. I don’t think that I could do it anymore without Rose around. This is goodbye, Will.” The two friends embraced, and before Will knew it, George was gone.
The next few months at the station were painfully slow. Without George, everything was strange. It was the same old routine again. Some men grew used to the absence of George, and many of them almost forgot about him, but not Will. He was disheartened.
“How’s things?” John would ask. But Will would only give a weak smile and continue with his work. The men at the station began to worry about him. They missed George, but they never thought that him being gone would affect anyone the way Will was affected.
Then one day, George came back. It was a usual Tuesday morning. The sun was glinting off the top of the trains that sat in the station. Will stood at the ticket barrier waiting for the first arrival of passengers, when the doors to the station opened and in walked an old man with a neatly trimmed moustache and a flat cap. He was overjoyed, and as the men at the station noticed George walking in, they each shook his hand and welcomed him back. Nobody asked him what made him decide to come back, they were just glad that he was back, and nobody was gladder than Will.
The only question that was asked that day was by Will. “Where are you off to today then, George?” he asked.
“Wherever the tracks take me,” replied the old man as he hopped onto a train, and with a wave of his cap, he was gone for the day, and things were back to the way they should be.
Will once asked George is he would ever stop again, if he’d tend his garden or make little things for his grandchildren in his shed, do more important things. George would reply that he’d never stop coming. That all the things were as important to him, and that he loved the trains. And Will never asked again.
After all, to George, there was no better way to spend his remaining days than smiling at strangers on trains, and was the way he intended on keeping it.
