For Mrs. Wishy-Washy

Big Orange has been prodding me to start writing a novel. I don’t really have the time to keep up with all the plates that I have to keep spinning now, so it is unlikely that this novel is going to appear anytime soon. But to please a dear friend, and to keep that ol’ nag, Mrs. W-W off my back, here is a brief synopsis of a dream I had once.

Scene opens with a man startled awake. He is dressed in a suit and trench coat. He can’t remember how he got on this train. His is in a sleeper car by himself. He gets up and moves to the next car to find it is the dining car. There is only one table with people sitting at it. He recognizes them as his wife’s coworkers. They wave him over and he sits down. They tell him that they didn’t know he was on the train. They and his wife are returning from a business trip. They decided to have lunch, but his wife complained of a headache and went to lie down in her car. He leaves them and returns to the sleeper car but his wife isn’t there. He sits to collect his thoughts and the conductor leans in and tells him that they will be pulling into the station a Clarkesville soon and he had better prepare himself. The man asks, but the conductor hasn’t seen his wife. The conductor reminds him to prepare himself and moves on calling out “Clarkesville, next stop, Clarkesville…” The man wonders what to do and stares out the window to think. The station comes into sight and there is a sudden lurch and the sound of metal twisting. End scene.

Scene opens at station platform. In background lies horrible train wreck. Foreground you see man cradling his dead wife and crying out “Why God? Why? Why couldn’t it have been me?” The conductor, with a bleeding forehead, in something of a daze, walks by calling out “Catch the last train to Clarkesville” which fades into the tune by the Monkeys (or is it Monkees?). Scene fades to black.

Scene opens with the man startled awake on the train. Scene fades to black.

Now I dreamed this in its entirety, from beginning to end, and to this very day this pop/love song still gives me the creeps. Now I left out most of the dialogue, and even with it, and padding the story, as I am wont to do, there is no way I could hammer this into a novel. A short story perhaps, but not a novel. I would welcome any comments or suggestions. I have tried to write this story a dozen times, but I always wind up frustrated and scrap the thing again. I have a thought for a story set during the Civil War, but it would only wind up as a short story as well. Now all of my blogger family are intelligent readers, so tell me, what story would you like to hear?

Doc