I boarded the train at London Bridge,
It was black with gold lettered inscriptions,
And handed the man my ticket stub,
As I made my way to a booth to sit in.
He had a strange glint in his eyes,
That bearded conductor with too tall a hat,
I shook off the feeling as steam began to whistle,
But deep down I knew I’d never come back.
The locomotive howled like a raging banshee,
As the wheels turned over atop the steely tracks,
So I peered out through the window in disbelief,
At the sights I witnessed beyond the smokestack.
Days and nights flew by in an instant,
Winter’s chill thawed then leaves fell back to brown,
The sights and towns that once I knew,
Vanished before me ‘til none were around.
Then we began our furious descent,
The wheels were chugging at thunderous pace,
The cabin was shaking, and all the lights flickered,
‘Til we finally reached our resting place.
The ground was tinged with crimson red,
A tall cypress tree distorted my view,
And the air was thickened in foreboding haze,
Which displaced my wonderment with despair and gloom.
“All aboard,” yelled the conductor, in otherworldly tone,
As a horde of ghouls and monsters made their way on:
Vampires, werewolves, trolls, and orcs,
Cerberus, chimeras, and leprechauns.
Confused, I rushed to the conductor’s cabin.
“Excuse me, sir,” I choked with a frown.
“Let me stop you right there,” he said with devilish grin,
“I’m going to have to ask you to go sit down.”
“What’s the meaning of this?” I shrieked in disbelief,
“I want to go home,” I cried dreary-hearted.
“There’s only one destination for folks like you,
And don’t you see?
You’ve already departed.”
Brandon Pickrell teaches secondary English at Parkersburg High School in Parkersburg, WV. Though he enjoys spending time on the Appalachian trails, kayaking, and being outdoors, he has an affinity for the macabre which he believes to be fascinating and melancholic. In the words of Poe, “And so being young and dipt in folly/I fell in love with melancholy.” Stay dark, friends!
Published 10/31/24