The Partisan and the Train

I drift off … imagine a partisan in 1944.

He steps out to face a dark train headed at him full bore.

It won’t slow, no matter how its hungry patrons implore

It to turn back from the depths of hell it’s destined to explore.

He looks up, raises his weapon and opens on the engine.

Two rounds find the conductor, who shatters mid-sentence.

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Filed under Featured Content, Flash Fiction, Poetry

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