Storytelling With Photos

While this is a photo thread, the idea is to share some creative writing that paints a picture, brings the viewer into the image, providing a more immersive experience than just a simple photo and caption.

While I'm no English major or professional writer, I'll get us started. Here goes nothing!

Singing the song of the modern iron horse, the daily CP St. Paul-Edmonton freight grinds past the historic 1905 Soo Line freight house.

The flanges shriek and wail like the deafening howl of a tornado as steel flanges fight against the curvature of continuously-welded, 136 pounds-per-yard steel ribbons thru downtown Minot. The screaming whistle is nearly continuous as the tracks cross a quartet of tightly-spaced roads in the heart of downtown, halting hungry and cranky rush hour commuters anxious to get home from work. The impatient rumble of General Electric and General Motors-borne prime movers accelerating the train bark in a staccato, disjointed chant as more than ten thousand tons of steel and revenue cargo are begrudgingly urged westward. More than 500 steel wheels roll past in the muted hiss or occasional thumping of a flattened wheel tread. Empty rolling stock shudders and shakes, echoing each thud as if an empty 55-gallon drum, adding to the metallic symphony. The track groans under the terrific weight of the steel snake slithering through the serpentine curves, heaving and creaking with each wheel’s passage. This is the sound of American commerce, a song repeated a couple dozen times each day on the old Soo Line.

 

The last rays of sunset peek over the rim of the Souris River valley, as if a toddler grabbing the counter and pulling himself up to see what mother is cooking. The haze of a lazy evening devoid of the ever-present prairie breeze hangs in the air like a pall of distant wildfire smoke, diffusing the power of the sunlight reaching the ground. A powerful glint shines off the railheads, polished by hundreds of thousands gross tons of daily interstate commerce as steel wheels roll obediently west or east. Colorful foliage typical in autumn is backlighted by the strong sunlight, punctuated by equally strong, dark shadows. The signals are also dark; no trains to hearken. The steel ribbons undulate wildly on main track one, while main track two more fluidly climbs the .62% grade leaving the Souris River basin. The US Highway 2 and 52 Bypass frames the scintillating scene. Of all the times I want trains, this is not the one, as a train at this moment likely would have spoiled the effect.

 

The sun slowly grows in the eastern sky like a lump of bread dough in a proof box, illuminating the underside of a low deck of dense and choppy stratus like flashlight held under your chin while sitting in a dark tent telling scary stories late at night. Murky shadows intermingle with highlights to give texture and contrast to a dim sky. Blue hour gives way to daylight, and a fiery glow builds from faint tones of magenta, to a dozen varieties of orange, red, yellow, purple, magenta, blue and pink in less time than it takes to finish a piping hot cup of coffee. The simmering sky seems to boil with color as the predawn sun struggles to peek over the horizon. The first rays of sunrise gush over the horizon like water escaping a disintegrating dam, gilding everything in its path. A faint mechanical whine seems to break the stillness as a lowly westbound local creeps into the yard at restricted speed while first light glints off the flanks of the steel sheathing of a classic grain elevator.