Under the train

When I was nine years old death, real death, for the first time. Until then I thought only old people died. One of the boys was killed outright. His body was flung against the wall of the creamery which is now gone. The other was injured but survived. 

The story is based on real events among my real friends. My father insisted that I go to the funeral home and offer my condolences to my friends parents. I didn't want to go but was given no choice. My parents were beside me in the back of the chruch during the funeral and it was then that I experienced the finality of death and cried for a week.

While styled up to make it a story I thought people might be interested in, the underlying theme is the same. It was not easy to write and the names were changed to protect the feelings of some of the people that appear in it. 

The trains no longer carry coal from the fields in North Dakota. Now they speed through town every half hour twenty four hours a day carrying oil destined for the electrical generation station.