Out of the Steam Print

Trains are an amazing work of art all on their own, and although I love painting landscapes I couldn't stop imagining this train on canvas. He was in my head and just had to come out. Adventure awaits and why not start any journey by train. The Story: The sound of the whistle rang loud and clear over the cacophony of the platform. Carried on the wind it passed over the noise of the platform and rushed to meet my ears, sending me to my feet in an excited rush. The plankway was flooded with people, a world of chaos, but the whistle rose above the drumbeat of footsteps and the noise of chattering, shouts, and raucous laughter. My heeled boots pushed forward; my hands gripped tightly to the fabric bag clutched against my chest. Men and woman crowded in around me, and I shifted as gracefully as I could to move through their masses, bumping into shoulders and luggage along the way. Energy roared in my blood as my eyes watched the billowing clouds of steam grow closer, the white plumes rising up into the air a stark contrast to the clear blue skies and dark mountain caps in the distance. Soon she would make her grand entrance, gliding through the coppery brick archway down the line. I bounced on my heels the energy inside me growing into something nearly unbearable. I could easily make out her growing shape in the distance, and watched with stilled breath as she sped my way. She was calling to me. I knew she was; it was clear as day. My name echoed with each pump of her wheels; the sound of it thundered in the air. Her great face broke through the archway in the same moment that my own smile nearly cracked my face in half. The clouds of steam building up around her, like the very curtain of golden hair that framed my face. She was glorious. Seeing her in front of me made this moment all the more real. Soon the adventure, my adventure, was about to begin and there would be nobody who could stop me.