Death on a train

Wige Lumbeg knew what it was like to lose someone. So he had to do it...


1. This is a short story. Nothing was harmed or killed in the making of this story.

The man stopped. Something was obviously on his mind. All of a sudden, he ran. “STOP!” he cried, shouting at the top of his voice, “The train’s gonna crash!” But nobody was listening. And just before it happened, his whole life flashed before him.



Hi. I’m Wige Lumbeg. And I’m you. Wait - that doesn’t make sense, does it? Well, actually, it could. I don't know - I really don’t know. Now that does make sense; I shouldn't know because I'm dumb. Now does that make sense? OK, I’ll admit it - I’m getting really confused with this ‘making sense’ thing. But at least I can tell when something’s gonna crash. Or is that at the least? No... I don’t think so. Right. I’m just making myself even MORE confused. Let’s stop this ‘rubbish talk’ (as my dad used to say) and get on with it.


I was born as an only child. I never knew my ‘mum’, and my dad died when I was 8. I was forced into a smelly orphanage and lived there for just 5 days when I decided to run away. A kind woman brought me out of the streets that I had gotten used to for a month. She was my real mum, the woman I recognised as my mother.


I’m Anne Tyson, the mother of Wige Lumbeg( I did try to rename him as Wige Tyson but everybody found out, though they all praise me as his mother for his good deeds that he did). I still recall that day - the day it all started. I was panicking because I had run out of vegetables so I had hurried out to buy some. I had already bought all I needed and was walking out of the supermarket when I noticed him, all alone, and fast asleep under the  bridge without a penny to spare. Hastily, I got home, emptied my hands (which were full of vegetables) and went back. He was still asleep when I got back and immediately I picked him up and carried him home.


I was surprised to wake up to find myself in a comfortable, warm bed in a brilliantly sunlit bedroom. All of a sudden, a woman walked in.

“Hello,” she introduced,”I’m Anne Tyson.”


To cut a long story short, I grew up with an disadvantage with education as those days in the orphanage and on the streets had made me forget all my knowledge: for example, the hardest sum I could do was 5+4. But I wasn’t bullied - instead the kids were scared of me as I possessed a special power; I was super-strong.


People always said I was really kind but I was just helping out - I really don’t know why they say that. Even Anne says the same! But shouldn’t everyone be doing the same?


Then, it happened. The train crashed into Wige and he fell down as if he had been shot, a bullet piercing his heart. But the passengers and pedestrians had been saved.


Note: I know, this is a crap story.



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