The Alpha Killed My Husband

My story

t was almost noon, and the jungle was very still, very silent. Heat waves shimmered

along the railway embankment where it cut a path through the tall evergreen trees.

The railway lines were two straight black serpents disappearing into the tunnel in

the hillside.

Suraj stood near the cutting, waiting for the mid-day train. It wasn’t a station, and

he wasn’t catching a train. He was waiting so that he could watch the steam-engine

come roaring out of the tunnel.

He had cycled out of the town and taken the jungle path until he had come to a

small village. He had left the cycle there, and walked over a low, scrub-covered hill

and down to the tunnel exit.

Now he looked up. He had heard, in the distance, the shrill whistle of the engine.

He couldn’t see anything, because the train was approaching from the other side of

the hill; but presently a sound, like distant thunder, issued from the tunnel, and he

knew the train was coming through.

A second or two later, the steam-engine shot out of the tunnel, snorting and

puffing like some green, black and gold dragon, some beautiful monster out of

Suraj’s dreams. Showering sparks left and right, it roared a challenge to the jungle.

Instinctively, Suraj stepped back a few paces. And then the train had gone, leaving

only a plume of smoke to drift lazily over tall shisham trees.