Trains: a giant uncontrollable machine, a big mechanism destined to go on for vast long distances, a heavy rolling piece of equipment that never seems to die out of power, but will keep on going, and going, and going. It drives along the tracks and goes through the cities and mountains and fields, and it sees many sights but will never stop to stare and bask in its beauty.
That is what I am in charge of. That is what I do. I control this, and I sit behind this.
This is a train. It never stops until it reaches its destination, and it conserves and eats its fuel so it can keep on going, and going, and going, never-ending. People say I control this moving contraption, but that is untrue. I simply watch over it.
It is moving. It is uncontrollable. It is irrepressible.
I see many things while sitting at the front with its wide clear windows. It is noisy, the moving train is raucous while it churns out its old chains and keeps on going and going, but the views are planted in my mind, planted in my brain.
I do see many things. I see fields of grain, open fields of prairies and flowers, a city of happy people, a sunset against the forest in the distance. I see the vast blue sky looming ahead of me, the train tracks blend into the faraway distance, animals and people nearby as the lights blink of a train crossing with safety as its priority.
I see beautiful things, many things. I see little children in the cities point and wonder what this long moving boxed thing is, and I see the moon high up in the sky to give me the company that I yearn in these long lonely nights. I see clouds that depict curious pictures as they wander away from me, and I see big gray clouds that cover the day as a thin beam of sunlight shines its way through. I see the light mist and the heavy stormy rain, and I see the prism rainbow that comes out after a battle in the sky. I see many wonders in the world, many life adventures through this journey of watching through this controlling operator occupation that I have befell upon, and these are the memories I hold true to my heart.
But with every good thing, there is always something evil.
There is always something bad, something so atrociously disgusting and sick that will crush and tear the heart away from the chest until there is nothing left but a big gaping hole.
There is always the evil force that will offset the good and beautiful to what was once important to this heart that was torn away, and it will always be there.
It is always there, that evilness. It is always there to haunt, to hurt, to destroy.
I see something in the distance. I see something beautiful, something good and precious.
I see that goodness, and I see evil encasing it.
They are colliding.
A giant uncontrollable machine, a big mechanism destined to go on for vast long distances, a heavy rolling piece of equipment that never seems to die out of power, but will keep on going, and going, and going. This is an uncontrollable machine, a mechanism that is out of my reach and would fail to adhere to my commands until it is too late.
But still, I try. I see the beauty. I see the evil.
The chugging machine is going at a fast steady speed.
I pull on the brakes, and I hear the screech and hiss of the friction against the tracks.
But still the train moves forward, and still it does not stop.
The law of the world and motion is not in my favor, and the law of the world and motion will not change for anyone.
The train rumbles and shakes as if it sees the good and evil ahead on the tracks that was supposed to be forbidden to anyone else, and it whistles—a high pitched screech that echoed in the broad daylight and gave out its warning to go away, leave this place, leave before it is too late.
Move! the whistle cried, piercing the air. Move! Leave! Get out of the way! Move!
The once relaxed and never-stopping machine continued to rumble and shake as its steadfast momentum draws it closer to the good and bad, the precious and the evil, the dead and the living.
I want to scream. I want to do something.
“Get out!” I scream.
I cannot be heard.
I am voiceless.
I am worthless.
I am powerless.
I am just a man in the train.
A man with no power, no control.
The whistle screamed.
The good and the evil collided into one.
In events like this, good will always win.
The good will always reign over the evil.
It is law.
It is world’s law.
But still the train does not stop.
The precious goodness was a boy. A beautiful boy, a precious life of a boy. He was young. He had life in his eyes. He had so much potential, so much to live for.
And here he stood at these old tracks, here in the dead of the woods, here with his formerly scared but assured eyes that this was the end, and this was what he wanted.
He wanted evil, but didn’t he know that good always reigned over evil?
He was tormented by himself, and unlike goodness, evil does not destroy itself.
He comes closer and closer, and all sounds seemed to muffle as I go over him.
I destroy him.
The train has destroyed him.
He was no more.
I watched it.
I could do nothing about it.
I watched him die.
I watched the life go out of him, the train crumble his body in a quick flash, felt his bones and life crumble away into nothing as I roll above it.
Evil does not ever go away, but it transfers. It transfers to people, to bodies, to other vulnerable living things.
And I see it. I see it all with wide-eyes, my former vision of beauty and preciousness of this adventurous journey burn and replaced with a scratched and soiled and horrifying image of this evilness, this wickedness, this horrifying scene.
And here I stay, here the train slowly rolls to a stop, and nobody else is around to see what I have seen, what I have witnessed.
And here I stay with my heart pounding against my ears like war drums, my blood draining from my face, my breath going out cold, my vision blurring.
I have seen the evil.
And now I cannot unsee the evil.
But still life goes on, and it goes on, and it goes on.
It is moving.
It is uncontrollable.
It is irrepressible.