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The Train.

On my way to South Wales a strange experience happened to me. The train was one of the coal-fired steam engines. Smoke blew back forming strange shadows as the train picked up speed. I had opened the window to air the compartment. Some heavy smokers must have been smoking before the train pulled out of Paddington Station. Occasionally through the open window a puff of smoke from the engine blew into the carriage. I must admit that I was too comfortable to close the window. The smoke dispersed and I listened to the wheels making their clackety clack as the passed over points in to rail system.

Looking out of the train’s windows I watched the passing countryside with its many farms. Fields of ripening corn made a pretty picture, as did the various animals grazing in the meadows. A couple of times the train passed over bridges under which flowed heavy traffic, Lorries, cars and the occasional motorbike. Then it happened a large puff of smoke flew into the open window. Now sitting opposite me was a man. The man had appeared out of the smoke and made himself comfortable in the seat opposite me.

“You are travelling to Cardiff was his first question?” I was not going to answer a whiff of smoke no matter how real it now looked sitting opposite me. I ignored the man. He spoke again, “I asked you if you were going to Cardiff?” I continued to ignore what to me was just a puff of smoke. Suddenly the man turned back into a smoke ball and flew out of the train’s window. On the seat where he had been sitting was a black leather bag. At first I ignored the bag after all what a puff of smoke leaves behind in a train is no business of mine.

Later we were now crossing the railway bridge over the river Severn I looked again at the black leather bag. I know that I was being very nosey but I could not resist I just had to know what was in that bag. I moved over to the opposite seat and carefully opened the bag. In the bag to my great surprise was one of my Fairy Tale books. Opening the book I saw that someone had written a short message. The message read, “This book is for the man that writes Fairy Tales. May he read his own stories and enjoy them as we the beings living in the smoke.” I had never heard of beings living in the smoke. Was this book evidence of beings living in smoke and what do they call themselves. Smoke usually forms when fires are lit. There must be many smoke beings in this world. Just think of the huge Factory Chimneys that pour out smoke by day and night. What about Forest Fires are they too inhabited by beings that come and live in smoke? Bern.