Creating Fiction from History: Railroad Wreck

It was a load crash. Only a few people had heard it at the time because, well, there were not a lot of people around.

Old Jimmy Hennson and his two sons rushed out of their little farmhouse across the tracks. Mrs. Van Oswald, the widow, came out of her small cabin near the tree grove with her four boys.

And there was us: my father, my mother, my five siblings, and me. Penelope Grange. We had the field on the other side of old Jimmy Hennson and between us now was a small crash of wood metal and wires. I was not sure how the crash had happened, to be honest. Any time I heard a train coming it had the whistle. I did not hear it this time as I was out collecting the eggs for the day. We all seemed to find ourselves drawn up to the crash like moths to a flame.

The rail workers had all just stopped and started scratching their heads, not saying much to one another but enough to omit their confusion. Poppa had come forward, asking the workers if they were alright and if anyone had gotten hurt.

"No, no one was in there. Don't know if it was the rocks or the wind, or if it was just God Himself. The carts just went woosh and bam and now there they are," one tall gangly man with a rounded cap told Poppa. His mustache wiggled with his nose as he tried to explain.

Greg, a gentleman who had been staying with old Jimmy Hennson, rushed out of the house with his camera and his notebook.

"Wow look at that! The whole towns here to see the wreckage! This will make a great article in a paper! No one's hurt, right? Good! Good! Let's get you all in a picture. This is a historical event you know!"

He set up his camera and everyone seemed confused. "Come on now, it's the first ever train wreck of Whitehall. And no one got hurt! We must preserve history!"

He was so excited about it. I think he was just excited to see something besides our simple farming everyday lives. He wanted action.

Well, none of us could say no to that energy and vivaciousness. So, I helped my mother up onto the wreckage with my siblings happily playing around and climbing up. Jim and his two sons stood on the opposite end of the wreckage. Poppa and the workers stood on the tracks.

"Now! Now everyone look at me!" Greg had set up his camera and was getting it ready. In a poof and flash of smoke the first train wreck in Whitehall Montana was captured. The strangest little mess that ever happened forever preserved in a photo; however, it never got to the papers.