Wailing Children

by Teresa Mathers about a year ago in fiction

Fictional

Wailing Children

I was laying in my bed. I was aboard a north-bound train. All of a sudden I heard a little voice speak. It whispered, “Have you heard of the wailing children?” I froze. I looked to my left and saw a little girl. Her dress was old. Like 1800s old. I sat up very slowly.

“Who are you?” I said.

“Shhhh,” she said putting her cold hand on my mouth. “The wailing children will hear.” She looked afraid. I listened carefully and I heard a wailing. A low keen of pain. “I am one of them but I don’t wail.” She lifted up her skirt and I saw two bloody stumps where her legs should have been. I gasped. “I got ran over by a train when I was five.” She looked sad.

“So every wailing person has died by a train?” I asked quietly. She nodded then froze. She pointed then disappeared. I looked behind me and tried to get up. Behind me stood three children. One with half his head missing. One with her arm gone. And one with half of his body gone. I tried to run but it was too late. They grabbed me. I knew only one thing I could do. I wailed. I wailed like I was hurt. I made my keening wail go higher. The children dropped me, shocked. Realizing I wasn’t dead, they grabbed for me again. But I was already running. I opened the door between the cars and gasped. Under the train wheels were more souls. I started climbing the ladder to the roof. I knelt down on the roof too terrified to move. But I was more terrified of the children so I ran and jumped, barely making it to the next car. I started running again hearing the wailing behind me. Now there was at least 20 children chasing me. I was running as fast as I could knowing it wasn’t fast enough. I tripped and rolled toward the edge. I gripped the edge hoping I wouldn’t die. I screamed as the children grabbed my hands. They threw me under the wheels and I screamed as the train wheels sliced through my skin and bones. Next thing I knew, I was a wailing child. Only 16. I attached myself to the wheels knowing I would only leave onto the next world if I could throw someone else off the train. I refused to, just like Elsie. The little five-year-old who tried to save me. I helped her help others. People who were young and alone. Under the age of 18. I whispered and always held my cold dead hand over their mouth before they could speak. I always put my finger to my lips and whispered, "shh." I have saved 30 children. My goal, a hundred. Maybe then, me and Elsie can go to the next world. Elsie has saved the same amount as me. I have watched 13 children die, three of which have turned good. But the others let their hatred grow. Their hatred grows and spreads like a vine. Until the hatred ends up pulling another kid off the train. I have watched a kid get his skull crushed under the wheels, and another get cut in half. It’s gruesome and dangerous, but if they play on the train tracks, some day the kid will die by a train. So beware of the train, kids. The trains may not be alive but they do have spirits that will take your soul just to free theirs. Do not play on train tracks, kids. Beware kids, beware.

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Teresa Mathers
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