The train rocked gently down the steep incline of Mount Shasta inching its way through the mountainous ravine. Its swaying motion coupled with the clackety clack of the wheels put me to sleep rather quickly. It was only a 51/2 hour ride to Sacramento so I knew that whatever sleep I managed, the nap would be short. Court was scheduled for 11am so I would have to wait in the train station drinking coffee for four hours before heading to the court house. I needed the sleep.
A swathe of pink flowing light danced in front of me, hovering like some ghostly apparition. All of a sudden a voice spoked from this pink light in a soft stern command. "Sherry. Get up. Get up. Wake up and fight!" Mom's visage vanished just as I startled myself out of sleep. I rose up in my seat and realized that dawn had not come and I was still rocking in my train seat as it neared the station in Sacramento.
I hugged my maroon sweater close to my chest hugging it as if Mom were somehow captured within its fabric. It was the closest thing to the beautiful pink light I saw moments earlier.
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The above is an excerpt from one of my true short stories. If you want to get on the mailing list for a chance at the first published edition of short stories, send an email to themidnightwriter1@gmail.com. I'll add you to my mailing list and send you some of my online short stories as they are published.
The Midnight Writer
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