The headless tram driver


There is a toy diesel tram  (narrow guage) that my husband has put a figure in, which is  nice until you realise it is missing its head!

I wanted to try and write a story about something that might have happened…

WARNING this story is badly written!

Dark night, fog slowly gathering along the old London Road, all is quiet, still, any noise is folded into the mist. The cold wet atmosphere envelopes you as you walk along the street. It’s just after midnight and what traffic there is has crept slowly home, cars parked in side streets, or pulled over onto pavements.

Many times I have walked along that road, the orange street lights shining on damp pavements. People walk by, very rarely speaking. Tonight there is no one about, no click of heels on pavements. I feel alone, I don’t know whether to be calm or nervous. The street isn’t normally spooky. There are old and modern shops on either side and wide pavements, no hidden alleyways for anyone to step out of.

Slowly a shape emerges from the shadowed street. A bright light shines from the front if it. What appears to be tram lines suddenly appear on the ground in front of me….metal wheels clatter on the tracks, juddering as they hit a set of points, jumping sideways, moving faster and spinning towards me…I can see a figure in the cab of the tram now, the harsh light in the cab shines on a figure in a dirty blue boiler suit, hand on the brake lever. I run to the doorway of a shop to get out of the way. I try to see the drivers face, but there is an empty space where it should be…

Their tram rushes by, red lights gleam against the swirling fog, and then it is gone.

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