From the dark
recesses of a long underground arched cavern running beneath the northern
reaches of a cynical metropolis, an icy calm was slowly disturbed. A throng of
rocks, pebbles, twigs and dead leaves stirred with the faint hum of the earth.
Somewhere deep in the tunnel, the world was torn asunder and the faint flicker
of a flame appeared in the abyss. As it glowed brighter, the steel spine of
track laid out from it came alive and vibrated with the same hum, which had
grown into a low rumbling that reverberated through the air.
As the glow became
brighter, so too did the quake grow louder. It was the sound of 1,000 stampeding
buffalo, 100 speeding tanks, 10 burning hearts or one furious fist. Something unstoppable and unchallenged, like a force of
nature shaking the foundation of the land.
Soon the silhouette
of the thing took form as a glow also appears from behind the approaching
object. But whereas the first glow was from a running light, this new
illumination filled up the entire tunnel. It was the light of billowing flames
gaining on the already accelerated object, ultimately surpassing it, reaching
the edge of the cavern and blew forth out into the open air in an amazing wave
of inferno lighting up the dark autumn night.
Smoke rolled up
into the sky and the flames faded. Then nothing for a few short moments, as the
tunnel returned to complete darkness.
Then slowly, but deliberately, a figure emerged from the pitch-black arch, but it was no locomotive machination. It was what appeared to be a
person, or at least the shape of one. And they were floating, at least two
meters off the ground, feet dangling as if imitating a hung body sentenced to
death for some abominable crime, though their head was facing forward, features
hidden.
The other details of the apparition we’re also few in the dark of
night; they wore dark formal clothing from a much earlier age and atop their
head was a remarkably pristine stovetop hat. The arms were abducted slightly
from the sides of its body with hands bend back at a ninety-degree angle to the
ground in a weak claw shape as if tracing fingers across the surface of water
whilst standing knee-deep. But nothing so droll was becoming of this gesture.
Instead, it was an act of summation, a luring of something massive, grand and
ominous from the same shadow whence the dark figure appeared. It was something
expected yet unexpected at the same time.
With a chuff and ten yards separated from the dark figure, the
mammoth design of the steam freight train engine emerged. The front of which was
shaped into a human skull with the smoke stack coming out of the top. Several
intricate details covered the exterior, some parts made of copper and nickel,
but the bulk was made of steel and volcanic obsidian.
Strange
markings and writing were blistered across the boiler housing along with a line
of life-sized depictions of grotesque bodies along the sides.
Below, the
turning driving and front truck wheels glowed red hot with flames flickering as
if just forged causing the steel beneath it to creak and strain against the
spikes and ties which held each foot of track it covered as they too glow
through convection.
Just then,
rain started to fall from the heavens causing clouds
of steam to roll up from the wheel-sets as they started to cool, forming into a hardened
state, becoming a tangible thing in a fantastic setting.
Not a soul witnessed this event save
for one hooded sweatshirt figure standing at the top of N Willamette Blvd
overlooking the track that was laid a little more than a century prior. A look
of great concern and expected grief drew across their face. As if they knew this occurrence would happen. As if they knew that the geological basin
below would be the epicenter of a grand design and an epic catastrophe.
A stage was being set with which the
hooded figure would only play spectator to and observe the eventual outcome of.
