Today I had something extra fun to share. I am writing a story with another one of my students. We both started with the same prompt about boarding a train and beginning a letter to our sister. It’s been a great joy to see the different paths our minds can take with the same prompt! I also have a few haiku poems to share at the bottom below the story. I hope you enjoy and feel free to join us in writing your own story that starts with the same prompt! Happy Reading!
As soon as I boarded the train, I began my letter to my sister;
I did it. I sold everything and am on my way to that mountain village I told you about. I’m sorry I couldn’t take you with me. When I find a good place for us, I’ll come back for you. You know I love you always. And in the meantime I’ll write you lots of letters.
Your lovely sister,
Alexa
I set my pen down and looked out the window of the train at the golden fields waving in the wind. This is probably the scariest and most exciting thing I have ever done. I know many people will say it’s crazy to give up everything I’ve ever known, but I knew I couldn’t stay another day in the town where I grew up. I’m tired of the heat, the way it greedily drains the moisture from your body, leaving you a parched husk of yourself. I’m tired of the dust, the way I can feel the grit in every bite of food I eat, as if each chew is sandpapering my teeth. The way my sweat would turn the dust in my sheets to mud. I long to feel clean and filled with crisp cold mountain water sipped fresh from a snowmelt stream.
So I sold it all. Everything that was mine I packed into the cart to take down to Hank’s General Store. I almost sold the cart and the horse too, but I knew my sister would need them. Besides, Blossom, our chestnut mare, is practically family. I only kept what I could fit into my leather pack: a light blue blanket, a change of clothes, a bar of lavender scented soap, a rough linen towel, a pocket knife, a paperback copy of Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman, my knitting needles, a small ball of lilac yarn, an apple, some hard cheese, two soft fresh slices of bread, and the five hundred dollars leftover after buying my train ticket.
I reach over again to feel my pack next to me, to check that it’s still there. I’m trying to balance the obvious need to make sure I don’t lose something so important with the danger of signaling the importance of this bag to a would-be thief. I am so tired but I know it’s not safe to sleep alone. I will have to stay awake and alert until I make it to my destination. Until I can rent a room with a lock between me and anyone dangerous, anyone willing to take all I’ve worked for.
Finally the train chuffs up into the mountains, crackled rocks and fierce twisty trees replace the golden fields outside the window. A staticky voice makes an announcement to the passengers in the train cars.
“In thirty minutes time we will be arriving at Whippoorwill Station. If this is your stop, please make sure you collect all baggage and are ready for departure. Again, we will reach Whippoorwill Station in thirty minutes time.”
I pull my bag close to my side and sit up straighter in my seat. My tiredness is immediately replaced by my excitement to finally make it to the mountain town I have read so much about. When we pull into the station I am already on my feet, my leather pack tightly cinched against my back. I walk out onto the wooden station platform engulfed in steam and the sweaty bodies of the other disembarking passengers. I continue to stand there as the train pulls away from the station, taking its heat and steam with it. I wait until the other passengers disperse and head on their way until I’m left with an unobstructed view of my new city from the platform. The breeze that comes across the station is cool and crisp and gently shakes the cherry blossom trees in full bloom lining the cobblestone path into the city. The houses and buildings that I can see from here are made of stone and wood. Their colors are warm and rustic, I can imagine the crackling fires in their hearths, the filling, creamy mushroom soup bubbling in earthenware pots, the smell of fresh herbs hung from the rafters to dry. I finally leave the station platform and begin to walk down the cobbled path into town, the stones smooth beneath my leather shoes. I can;t help but smile at the green crawling ivy the hugs the edges of the stone walls. I take in a big breath and am filled with the sweet floral scent of the lilacs and roses and baby’s breath that pop in floral fireworks of color. The downtown was a perfect circle with a white stone fountain in the center. The focus of the fountain was a stunning sculpture, with the top half of a horse and the bottom half that of a large fish or mermaid. The horse’s mouth was open to the sky and from it came a stream of water that arched up before splashing back down into the pool at the base of the fountain. The droplets misting from the fountain’s stream shimmered rainbow in the sunlight.
I walk around the fountain looking for an inn. I figure the most likely place to find one is here in the central part of the town where most people would spend their day to day activities. I find that it’s not very busy here. People walk by as if in a dream. The steady splash of the fountain is by far the loudest noise. As I almost complete my circle around, I see the inn, a mahogany sign swings in the wind with a portrait of an owl and the words The Owl Whisper Inn branded into the wood. I step inside and hear the soft silver jingle of a bell.
The inside of shells Shimmer with greens, blues, and pinks Like a mermaid scale
Cold winds begin now Time for sweet apple cider And hot pumpkin pie
Fuzzy bumblebee Flies to his favorite plant A bright pink flower
The strong will of plants Pushing through concrete against All human wishes
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