By Rafael A. Hernandez
A locomotive approached. It felt like something he had once seen on the television, a program about the movement of trains on rails. The impending speed was intimidating. No, it did not intimidate, it forced fear to come out from its place of safe keeping and run to the corners of unwelcome territory. Fear then wreaked havoc on his serene mind. All because of a locomotive of power. Though it was not simply power. If power was a wall, one that could never think to climb, then this shape was that of stairs. It was a grand array of steps that led to unique ends, none the correct destination and all misleading. This locomotive was a maze of still pictures and moving shadows. His eyes watered with the sadness these pictures portrayed. He shuddered at the terrors the shadows committed. And when all seemed too much for him sustain in his tender state…he woke up.
