Okay, so I can see how this title might seem a bit misleading. No, we haven’t reached the level of scientific progress that allows our trains to talk (actually, I wonder if we could make them talk. I mean, why not?), but today’s prompt is about writing a story about a vehicle that can take you places, so I am going to write from the perspective of the train.
Yeah, these prompts are way harder than I expected. Writing is funny that way, you walk in thinking it shouldn’t be that difficult, but it always is. I’m glad I happen to love this arduous profession!
If you are a train designer and are, for some reason, reading this blog, I urge you to develop a talking train (NOT THOMAS. PLEASE ANYTHING BUT HIM) cause I think it would be hella cool. Anyway, on with the show.
3. The Vessel: Write about a ship or other vehicle that can take you somewhere different from where you are now.
My Dear Paganini
There must have been fifty or sixty of them, all very small. They were funny looking, lacking wheels and running off of some kind of invisible smoke. They were not very fast, which is probably why they needed me in the first place, but there was some sort of quiet charm in watching them.
I was very fortunate to be on a set of tracks, leaving my mind idle for most of the actual drive, so I spent hours upon hours with these strange beings. They were somehow soft, as if they lacked a hard outer shell! I, being unable to live without my own hardened outer shell, cannot even begin to comprehend their ability to survive the snow, sleet, hail, or even little pebbles that ultimately get flung upon your sides! It really is quite the miracle, they must have been built by some master, created by some true genius!
Or maybe not.
Like I said, they aren’t very fast. I highly doubt they can carry anyone some great distance, they don’t seem large enough to hold anything. They much prefer lounging about, and consuming non-coal items. They always carry these strange things with them, filled with unnecessary trappings, paints for their faces, and these odd coins that jingle and must have some value to them, as they often trade them for other material objects.
Our race has, since the very beginning of life, been the most powerful. So you must imagine how strange it is for me to see these small beings, and hear from you that they are our creators! It simply is impossible! Look at them! They are so small, so weak and pathetic. I don’t even think they are worth a day’s worth of coal, considering how little they are good for!
How you could ever have come to such a ridiculous conclusion? Clearly you’ve been getting old. Perhaps I shall speak to the headmaster and see about a… reassignment? Maybe the streets of Italy are a bit too much on your (clearly) fragile mind. Perhaps you should thing of something a bit easier, like Sicily.
Please, don’t take offense at my incredulity to your ridiculous claims. We’ve been friends for quite some time now, and I’d hate that to end because you temporarily forgot yourself and made up some crackpot theory in which these small-minded, pudgy creatures are our Gods! Truly, truly, you make me laugh sometimes!
I hope we are still on for next Friday. I should leave the station around noon, and I hope to meet you in fair Verona then! I simply cannot wait to taste some of the upscale oils at that little cafe you wrote me about.
Your dear and loving friend,