Tag Archives: rail

2093. Oh what a tragedy!

Have you any idea how expensive it is to get a divorce? Raymond wanted to get rid of his wife but he wasn’t keen to lose almost half of what he’d worked for throughout his life. It was cheaper (and quicker) simply to get rid of her in a cunning and imperceptible way.

He devised a fabulous plan. As far as he could work out, it hadn’t been done before – at least he’d never heard of it. He had one of those cars whereby the driver had controls to lock the car doors. It was a child protection device. If the children in the back and passenger seats were messing around they couldn’t accidently open the door and fall out.

What Raymond would do was to stall the car on a rail crossing just as a train was hurtling towards them. Then he’d quickly press the button to lock his wife’s door, leap out his own door, and… Oh what a tragedy! Oh what a sadness! Why did it happen to me?

It wasn’t exactly something he could practise. After all, how many cars can one afford? But he drove the route several times and knew well the times the trains passed.

The day arrived. They were to visit great aunt Maude and bring her the usual weekly supply of chocolate and cat food. They were just about to leave (Raymond was actually wearing his running shoes!) when a message came that great Aunt Maud’s sister also wanted to visit Maude, and could they pick her up on the way? That ruined things. The request meant they would have to take another route. Murder would have to wait another day.

The following week off they went on their habitual visit. Raymond’s wife (goodness, as yet she is not introduced – her name was Fiona) had trouble dragging Raymond’s drugged body to the garage and into the car. Once done she drove to the rail crossing and stopped. She got out to watch.

Oh what a tragedy! Oh what a sadness! Why did it happen to me?

(P.S. A Happy Easter to all who wish to be wished such! I shall be hopefully back with a murder on the 5th, Easter Monday!)

2028. The endangered Zapata Rail

(The opening sentence for this story was suggested by Herb of The Haps with Herb. If you want to join in the fun of suggesting a future opening sentence for these stories, please leave your suggestion in the comments – only one suggestion per person!)

It sure wasn’t everyday that you see one, that’s for sure. Nick had returned daily for several hours to the swamp in the hope of catching sight of the critically endangered Zapata Rail (Cyanolimnas cerverai), one of the world’s most threatened waterbirds. The sighting had been by two staff members of the Natural History Museum of which Nick was in charge. He had sent them out one afternoon on a mission to “sight the Zapata Rail” as one had not been seen in over four decades.

His staff’s sighting had been reported in newspapers up and down the country. It was brilliant publicity for the museum. In fact, the two staff members were almost overnight sensations themselves. Wonderful!

Nick now knew then that there was definitely at least one of these birds in this swamp. That is why he had returned for five days in a row on his annual vacation. His vacation ended tomorrow. Today was his last chance.

Suddenly a Zapata Rail’s head protruded from the sawgrass at the side of the bank. After a few seconds the bird emerged slowly into the open and stopped.

Nick raised his gun.

The stuffed Cyanolimnas cerverai  is proving to be a popular addition to the museum’s collection.

1759. My jigger

A jigger (also known as a pump trolley, pump car, handcar, kalamazoo, velocipede, or draisine) is a railroad car powered by its passengers. Where I live we’ve always called it a jigger.

Honest to goodness, I had no idea when I purchased the kit online to make a jigger that it would come in so handy.

The kit was great; so easy to assemble. The only trouble was getting it to somewhere near a railway line so I could use it and, of course, getting it off the railway line when a train was coming.

But then, as luck would have it, there were several hundred miles of disused and overgrown railway track not far from where I lived. The track went way into the wilderness. I manage to get my jigger onto that line, and over time with a machete cleared the path enough to spend pleasant weekends going up and down the isolated track. In fact, I reckon I cleared about 70 miles of the track.

Along the way there was the occasion ram shackled station. I suppose they were a bit dangerous but they looked safe enough to me. I had no idea who owned all this. I saw only the one person the whole time I was there. I had entered the type of world I liked. For a while I thought I could operate some sort of tourist venture and give jigger rides to paying customers. But with not knowing who owned the railway line, and my liking for solitude, I decided not to pursue the idea.

Later the jigger started to come in handy, because thus far I’ve managed to dispose of eight bodies in different places along the track. I could never have transported the corpses into hiding without the aid of my jigger. People I knew, and that’s not very many, thought I was nuts getting a jigger kit online. Little did they know. I’ve since painted the jigger in camouflage. I get good money from that lone hitman I once bumped into down the track.

984. Sunlight on a sign

984sunlight

Lydia was returning from an early morning shopping spree. To get back home she had to drive across a railway line. How lovely the sunshine of the morning! How bright the promise of the day!

As she neared the railway line, the sun caught on the sign that warned of the approaching rail crossing.

“Wouldn’t it be funny,” thought Lydia, “if this was a warning. Sunshine on the railway crossing sign almost blinding, and perhaps heralding (like a prophecy from above) that I am to be hit by a passing train! Oh the inevitability of fate! The railway sign is highlighted for a reason! I must be extra careful as I cross!”

The reflected sunlight streamed straight into her eyes. WHAM-BANG! Lydia went into the back of the car in front of her.

980. An inevitable end

980rail

Cedric had to cross a railway line to get home after work. It wasn’t a direct thing. He would get dropped off next to the railway line after his ride home from work. Then he would walk through a small line of trees, cross over the railway track, pass through another line of trees, cross an unbusy road, and he would be home.

He did that every working day for nearly five years. The trains came through at regular times, so he didn’t need to look as he crossed over. Besides, who couldn’t hear a train coming?

And so it was; get dropped off; go through trees; cross the railway track; go through more trees; cross the road; home.

After five years, Cedric decided to move house. On his very last day in his old house, before moving, he crossed the railway line, and was tragically hit by a car while crossing the road.