Flash Fiction: The Last Train

Note:
I wrote this gem back in March 2018. Inspiration came from a prompt game on my phone; every three minutes a new prompt is given to add to the story. We play the game a fair bit in my writers’ group. Results are always hit or miss, but always fun in a word puzzle sort of way. This week’s picture reminded me of this story – and I don’t have time to wait for the muse to turn up. Oh look she waves from the platform.

For those interested the original prompts were;
Takes place in a train station
Prisoner
A bridge
Add a character who wears an amulet
“What are you laughing at?”
“I don’t like the colour green.”

*~*

The train station howled with the wind. The last train stopped a century earlier. A prisoner of time. Layers of graffiti hid the white bricks. The edging of the platform crumbling. A stone bridge shadowed the tracks, leading back to civilisation. Only the daring visited the ruins.

A figure walks into the forgotten. Her hands clipped the scarf at her throat, concealing her amulet from the world. 

“What are you laughing at?”

She rolled her eyes. Did the dead have nothing better to do? 

The spirit hissed.

“The colour green is offensive.”

“No shiz, it’s the colour of life.”

Even spooks were in on political correctness. The bodily challenged have rights, you know.