1956

1956
It was a very cold day the wind was whistling past the corridors of the old bus station when a tad of snow began to fall. It was so cold with the wind chill, your face felt frozen and bitter cold had set in to numb the lips and nose. Ravishing was the whistling of the north winds howling past every living thing as if to freeze it into a statue.
The bus station was selling the last fares to Marietta, Georgia, a simple town with homey values and southern cooking and families that held together through thick and thin no matter what the cause or problem that arose, nothing was unbearable or devastating that could not be repaired.
I thought as I left Wichita, Kansas, my past would be left behind with no trails to follow me. I needed a fresh start, new horizons to set my mind apart from the hell I had lived through for the past eight years, my mind I thought could finally repair the damage caused by the influx of terror and hatred that had plagued everyone with the new changes taking place everyday.
I purchased my ticket and I hurried to load up on the bus it was fifteen minuets past the scheduled departure time and Mr. Smith was upset you could tell  he was looking at his watch and every second counted it just isn’t right being late he howled, we charge good money and we should be on time. He chewed his cigar to the last inch a stub and he spit it out and howled it just isn’t right.
The doors closed  on the bus as I was climbing the top stair and I took an immediate left and searched for an empty seat, many were empty , by the window I was told by the window, I sat and put my bag beside me, I was tired so tired, as if to seal my fate for the future with out the terror of my past, haunting, screaming pain of chains that had bound and would not release me the doors I thought would keep the awful pain out and seal my fate for the future, yes it would be a start. I dozed off, so tired.
I awoke to the screeching sounds of metal and screams of human anguish, the bus has crossed early into the oncoming path of a train from Arkansas, the cattle train had slammed into the front of the bus shearing it off leaving the encapsulated mangled opening mid ways between the drivers chair and the third row of seats, the blood and smell of torn flesh wreaked the air we engulfed, flames from the front section was on the other side as mashed as potatoes in a bowl for supper.
Silence fell on mid day as snow was falling again turning red crimson when it touched the earth of twisted flesh and metal. We were getting off to see if we could help the other travelers that were mangled but survived. The bus  was fifteen feet from the track, although it was a mangled mess we climbed down ever so carefully.


The mother that was on the front of the bus with her son of twelve or so was arm in arm crushed beneath the train and the right side of the bus. The faces were peaceful; they must have been asleep as I was. They shall wake no more on this earth but live forever in peace with their Lord.
Caleb! Caleb! A mother cried for her son that was no where to be found. She said he went to talk to the driver for a few minuets about the big engine in the bus, he was fascinated with engines in trucks and buses. I told him just to stay for a couple questions and then to leave the driver to his job. I was tired and I must have fallen asleep for a while. Jimmy was no where to be found. We searched the mangled aluminum and steel with out finding any one living through the one hundred yard confetti strewn area of our destination at present. No yells, screams, only the cold icy wind banging against the tattered metal and wintry landscape of trees and bushes. Red was frozen as if colored by an artist on a pallet from the silenced human torment red was all that was left, and the three of us that were searching for a lost child and more survivors of which we have found none alive.
Caleb! Caleb! , the mother was losing hope, tears filled her eyes and the cold seemed to freeze her tears into place as they fell. It seemed as if the life had left her so sad and hurt, a loss only a parent could understand.
We must go back to the bus and get some blankets they stored for us for long trips such as this. It is freezing we will need to get some fire wood and build a fire also. The train stopped it seemed a hundred miles down the track. I was hoping for a rescue vehicle although not knowing where we are it would be senseless to not get our selves warm and protect us for the on coming night. Its so cold a bitter cold, slicing your face as a knife slices carrots, a hard clean cut.
There was a yell from the top of the hill behind the bus, Mom, mom where are you come here, mom!,  the child was at the top of the hill standing tall among the farmers green rows of golden corn, he was motioning us to come , hurry he said.
You wont believe your eyes, with tears in his eyes he hugged his mom, look  its Jimmy over there see him!, he was not far from us on the top of the hill. He was coming toward us now.
Look everyone look down, the bus had caught on fire. There was an explosion, it was an old gasoline engine, the flames hurled toward the sky, black bellowing smoke.
When we looked  down to see what was left after the smoke had cleared we noticed that everyone had been thrown from the bus and crushed by the train, even us.