The Last Rail


Perhaps, granddad had gone crazy in his old age. The Alzheimer’s hadn’t helped and he’d really lost it at the end. What he’d left me in his will had caused a chuckle but it had only given me a headache.

Hiking out to the middle of nowhere woods with dad, a marked up map and land deeds, hadn’t been my idea of fun. But here we where! I stepped down onto an old railway track. The metal rails all rusted and the rotten wood warped.

‘Well,’ my dad said, ‘he always had a passion for this place.’

‘What was he going to do with it?’ I asked.

‘Who knows?’

‘What am I going to do with it now?’ I snapped back.

‘Maybe, you could build a house?’ my dad said over his shoulder at me.

I grumbled, ‘perhaps, thirty. Have my own real life mini train village. Shame he left me no money.’

I kicked a few stones and thought, Granddad’s passion for trains had really had the last laugh.