Train Wreck

by Kevin Sheffar

Down, set, go. He thought to himself. Run straight through that door and don't hold back.

"No. No I can't. I won't No," Jason Piercon cleared his throat quietly and whispered to himself, "I will lose control. I will lose all control."

You already have, his thoughts interrupted.

"No I have not," he chimed back.

Then why is your pace quickening? Why are you walking toward that door then?

"I don't know."

You are losing control, Jason. You are losing it..

"I am not!" His voice roared up and cracked like a whip.

You are running now, aren't you? Why?

"I don't know!"

If you are in control of this, then stop yourself.

He was within twenty feet of the doorway, running almost at full speed. "Leave me alone!" he screeched, and his body came to a halt. He listened to the sound of his voice echo off into the distance and resound back. You could always hear an echo at night. In this desolate town, people were as scarce as water in the desert. You are alone. He could swear that he had heard those words ringing in his ears. He stood right outside of his door to his house. Slowly he pressed his self to do so, and drifted to the side window, back in the corner where the walls of the house and of the garage met. He peered in. It overlooked his bedroom. Strip me. Strip me of all that I have. Cut out my eyes and blind me. Rip my chest open wide and tear out the sutures on my heart, and I would be better off... he thought to himself, as, staring through the paned glass, he watched his wife, Kathryn, desecrate their sacred vows. I would be better off, he thought, with my head in the noose and my feet on a sheet of ice I would be better off.

As the snow fell in front of his eyes and his glasses became fogged, he felt the stiff lining of his jacket pocket. Glock. Nine millimeter.

Pick it up. Take it out of your pocket... hold it.


Do you really think that; that is your decision? I told you already... you are losing control.

"I thought I told you to leave me alone!"

Look down at your right hand. It is twitching nervously. You see it, don't you? It is creeping itself toward your pocket.

"Leave! Me! Alone!" he growled at the top of his lungs. He felt his hand drop to his side. Once more, he could swear that he heard ringing in his ears. 'You are alone', the voice said. He stepped back over to the window. All that I have left... stripped... away


                   Six months later...


It was beautiful. Its lush leaves painted crisply onto the black night sky. Absolutely stunning, at least, it used to be. It was dying though, its leaves were falling in the middle of spring, and its bark was beginning to peel. Jason couldn't stand to watch its life deteriorate in front of his eyes. His old apple tree that had been planted the day his grandfather finished building this home, was slowly coming to the end. And how he wished that he could somehow save it, but that wasn't important right now. As he stared up at the cloud of leaves in the sky and watched the tree slowly lose its life, he knew that he was slowly losing his. He had other things going on, other things running through his mind. And somehow the tree just seemed to lose its importance.

A woman that was blind enough to not be able to see the damaging wounds of this devastation that she had caused wasn't much of a woman worth living for. At least that was the one of the thoughts running through Jason Piercon's mind at this time. His wife, Kathryn, had played her fair share of games, but this was one that she wouldn't win. She had been cheating on him for over five months at this time, but she didn't know that Jason had known all along. She didn't know that he had been aware since the first offense, peering through the bedroom window, watching her desecrate and extinguish their sacred vows. It was eating him up inside, clawing at his mind, and driving him to the brink of insanity. She was at work tonight, and as he sat alone pondering, his mind wandered to what he would do the next time he saw the deceitful face of an angel disguised demon, the next time he saw the face of his wife. He didn't really have to wonder though...he knew exactly what he would do. He decided to kill her.

All alone in his home with nothing to talk to him except his conscious, his mind finally snapped. He moved clothes and things all over, turning his home into a jungle of boxes, shirts, and furniture. His train had derailed and crashed into the earth below, tossing him all over, bumping, bruising, and wounding him with every turn. He couldn't stand idly by and watch the destruction of his world and his life any longer. He carved words into the walls and broke the frames of pictures that only reminded him of hate. The pictures themselves were torn in half and burned in the fireplace. His home looked as chaotic as his mind was.

Just as he turned around and began to storm into his bedroom for his gun, he heard a car engine's loud murmur in his driveway. He looked out the window wasn't Kathryn. It was a man, but it wasn't just any man. This was the man that had been sleeping with his wife; this was the man that had caused him so much pain. Jason quickly twisted the knob and unlocked the door after finally retrieving his gun. The man knocked, and with his forceful pounding, the door swung open.

"Kathryn! Kathryn...Kath..." the man's words were cut short as a bullet pierced his head, bringing him to the floor. He was dead. To reassure himself, Jason felt the man's pulsenothing. Fearing that Kathryn would come home and see this, he quickly cleaned the body out of the living room and washed away the bloodstains with turpentine.

Three hours passed as Jason sat all alone with his pistol clutched tightly in his cold left hand. Finally, he heard the door creak open slowly and he poised himself in his position, knowing now that there was no turning back. Kathryn waltzed in slowly, looking around at all the carnage that lay in front of her. Startled, she walked slowly and carefully up the twisting stairs. As her eyes peeked over the top stair, she could see the letters that had been carved in the wall by her husband a few hours earlier. She could smell something peculiar in the air. She observed the writing that was carved sloppily onto the wall. "All suspects are innocent until proven guilty, but once convicted, a criminal pays the punishment of suffering and serving one sentence per each offense committed..." the words trailed off the wall and into the other room. Eeeeeerrrkk... She heard a creaking noise coming from her bedroom. She opened the door and as she turned to the wall on her right, her eyes lit up, as bright as stars, in horror.

There, hanging on the wall, was Jake, the man she had been cheating on Jason with. He had six railroad spikes embedded in his body to keep him held fast to the wall. One through his skull, between the eyes, one for each hand, one for each foot, and finally one more pounded straight through his heart. Blood dripped from each spike inside his corpse and splashed on the floor, into the puddle that had been created. As she read the words next to the mortifying sight, "And now.... it is your turn to pay", she heard the bedroom door slam securely shut behind her. Jason stood before her now, gun held and aimed directly between her eyes, and she knew he wouldn't miss his shot.

"Where you have committed the crime is where you are to be tried," his voice roared up, "and I find you guilty as charged. I sentence death," he muttered these last few words as he squeezed the cold metal trigger tightly. And as he watched her feeble, limp body fall to the floor, soaked in blood, he spoke again. "She should have known this all along. She should have seen this coming. Everybody knows how it goes; anyone could have seen this coming. She should have known." he said.

That old tree was going to survive after all. He carried the bodies carefully outside and buried them beneath his old apple tree, knowing that it would twist its roots through their bodies and in time suck up all of their nutrients; decaying them, hopefully fast enough, that the police wouldn't have a body to find. But he lived far from town anyways, and the police never came this far out, so he had nothing to worry about. As he covered their grave with the cold brown dirt, he pounded his shovel fiercely into the earth and clapped the dirt off his hands. He paused briefly in a moment of silence, and then finished by stating the three words that would echo in their lifeless minds for eternity, "...Cheaters never prosper..."

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