PHOTO PROMPT....
A man sat on the railroad tracks. Both of his hands felt the cold iron seep into his hands, but it didn't affect him. His mind was lost like the smoke curling into the dying sunset behind him. The train crashed in a squealof metal, wood, and plastic. It happened in the blink of an eye to some, and so, so slowly to others. It had been slow for him. Shock washed over him like being spashed in the face with cold water over and over again. he looked down at his trembling hands. They would not stop shaking; in fact he could not even unzip his sweatshirt. The sweatshirt and the rest of his clothes were torn and streaked with dirt and grime. It was strangely quiet, and the air smelled of overturned earth. Slowly he stood. Thunder rumbled in the distance. The clouds were heavy with the threat of rain. He began to walk, step by step, to the town that was so far away. If he had known, as he stumbled away from the horrific wreck, that he was one of the few people that walked away unscathed. Maybe he shouldn't have left, but he couldn't have done anything. At least the rain that came an hour later put the flames out.