Without Strings

The rhythm of the train was almost musical in a way in a way. Thum-bum, thum-bum, thum-bum, droning on and on. This was always how the dream began, with her standing alone in the aisle of a train car, alone with the hoof beats of the iron horse. But it never stays that way for long. Soon, the whistling of the Conductor drifts into her ears accompanied by his slow footfalls marching steadily up the isle behind her. The hiss of the brakes sound in junction with the end of the Conductor's stride, right behind her. Once the train is at a complete stop, the doors slide open and the deep, even voice of the man behind her sounds, "This is the end of the Line."
Every night the voice frightens her so deeply that she sprints from the door and wakes. Every night, but the final night.
"You hear, Missy?" Rumbled the Conductor. "End o' the Line, ain't you hoppin' off?"
"No!" she yelled and whirled to face the man. He was every inch as large as she imagined. "Every night I let you scare me off this train, but not to night, no sir." her voice is shaky but she stands strong.
"Now Missy," the man seemed unfazed. "it's twelve o' clock noon out th-" The Conductor voice faded under the girl's next outburst.
"Shut up! I know what you are. I know what this train means. And I… I've fought for long enough. I'm not afraid to die anymore." She lifted her eyes to meet the Conductors and the man's features seemed to soften.
"Well then, M'am." he tipped his hat and said, "All aboard."
The doors slide shut and the metal beat of the iron horse slowly resumed, carrying the girl into the unknown.