The last bell of the day rang. It was always a race to see if one could make it to the railway bridge before the train passed over it. I was no slouch either, although I had never made it in time. Riding along the creek with the willows hanging over, I pushed myself as hard as I could. I could hear the train whistle as it approached the railway crossing.

I didn’t notice any difference to the way it normally sounded. Racing up on my bike I could see a man standing on the track. It didn’t register with me though because I was in such a rush to get there. The whistle sounded again, and as I looked up, I watched the man crumple, as the front of the train hit him. As I whizzed under the bridge, the train came to a stop. I don’t think I have ever gotten off my bike so quickly. By then, though it was too late.

The driver jumped down from the engine and knelt down by the man. There was nothing he could do though. The man was dead. Someone else jumped down from the engine and covered him with a sheet. Looking around I could see his shoes lying neatly by the side of the track. So many questions went through my mind then. Why did he stand there? What was going on? Was this real? One of the men from the train approached me but I was not able to comprehend what he was saying. Nothing would sink in.

I don’t know how long I stood there for, just watching and waiting. I could see other people standing around but they looked as lost as I felt. The police and ambulance arrived and headed for the train. Watching and waiting I saw the train inch forward slowly. They were trying to get the man out from underneath. The sheet stayed where it was, but the man was stuck under the wheels and his body moved with it. I watched as it moved forward until his legs started tilting the wrong way from his body. The wheel had sliced across his middle.

Suddenly I was overwhelmed and had to get out of there. I think that was the fastest I had ever ridden my bike home. I don’t remember anything of that trip. It all passed in a blur. As I rode into the yard, my mother saw my agitation. Coming over, she asked me what was wrong. Only now did I feel safe enough to give in to all the terror that held me. I collapsed into her arms and slowly, between all the sobbing and crying, told her the story of what had happened on my way home from school.

It is something I have never forgotten.