Broken Railroads, Broken Hearts

Errr don't read this- the story I mean. No, I'm serious. It's like a major waste of time, even I don't like it. Major fail. It is some crappy crap.  Crappier crap than that English paper I wrote in 7th grade where I spelled 'coach' like 'couch' five hundred and fifty-two times. *shudders* blah. This stupid story makes me feel like- feel like I want to be a starfish laying lazily on the ocean sand wasting it's life because it doesn't want to put any kind of effort into things. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. gahh. Anywho, I'm finished ranting. Just-dont.........read it. And if you ignore my advice, which you definitely shouldn't, just promise you won't judge me and my writing, okay? deal? Awesome sauce. :D

Broken Railroads, Broken Hearts

     Chapter One

    My now dry eyes began to close slightly, feeling like a ten pound brick was piled on top of each of them.  My breath began to slow again and my heartbeat was slowing returning to its normal rhythm.  I jumped at the alarming whistle signaling that my train was approaching. 

  When I saw the headlights shining through the night’s darkness I felt an ache striking at my heart.  That was my way out of this awful town and everyone in it.  It was my ticket away from my life here.  I would board that train and never look back like I have wanted so badly for the past eight years of my life when I realized how insane these townspeople were.  Not to sound obnoxious, but I was meant to be more than just a silly small town girl.  I had talent that was meant to be shown. 

  I heard the squeaking of the train’s breaks as it neared the train station but kept my head in my thoughts.  This was going to be a tough journey.  I had just enough money to get through the train ride from Napoleon, Indiana to the airport, and a plane ticket from there to New York City.  What I would do when I got there was still unclear to me.  This was more of a spur of the moment thing. 

  I knew that I would be leaving this town for good the day after my eighteenth birthday, but every realtor I talked to would not speak with me unless I was over the age of eighteen or had parent consent. Till this day I am still confused as to why.  I was moving, not getting married.

  I had just turned eighteen yesterday and it was now officially legal for me to leave my parents care.  I had not told either of my parents.  They would feel betrayed and I could not bear to see their disappointed faces.  I instead left a note explaining that I knew how much I was hurting them, but I wanted more in life than small Napoleon could offer.  I believe my small town has a population of only 240 people, give or take. I told them I was sorry and I loved them, but it was something I had to do for myself. 

  The pulsing whistle ahead of me pierced my ears whipping me straight out of my thoughts.  I wiped a tear that had silently slipped and sat up straight on the wooden bench. After a minute of anticipation, the doors flung open and stared at me like a black hole, readily waiting to take me to my any destination.  I stared right back with the same intensity.  Is this what I really wanted?  I could go home right now, tear up my note and pretend like this never happened.  I thought about how my life has been for the past eight years.  No, this was my destiny and you cannot run and hide from life.  Besides, I thought, they’ve probably all ready read the note and are on their way over here. 

  I marched straight up to the steal machine, but by the time I reached the doors I had lost half of my confidence.  Placing one foot on the first step, I took one final look at my hometown.  As much as I hated living there, it was still home to me.  I reminded myself that there were better things to come in the future, and with that I decided to board the train.  Just as I was beginning to turn and enter through the doorway, I heard a strong, muscular, yet somehow boyish, voice shout from behind me.