The Last Rail


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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.

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