Appendage.

It's still there--and it has friends.

Every day, back and forth, you see that boxcar. In fact, it's been there, unmoving, for nearly a (leap year) month now. Only thing is, as mentioned, it has friends. A few days after the boxcar mysteriously appeared, several flatcars appeared behind it--a whole army of them. If you can consider eight to be sufficient for an army.

Nevertheless, they're there and somehow someone managed to attach them to the back of the boxcar without having to move the boxcar itself, as if the transporter just sunk into the ground back to hell from which it came. Hellcars, perhaps? Yes, it would be a damn good theory if hell was an actual place but because it isn't it's not.

Every day, back and forth, you see that boxcar and its flatcars behind it, seemingly growing appendages to snake into your apartment complex, getting longer and longer the more time passes without its departure. Yes, you see it but does it see you?

It's been cold and raining these past two days so perhaps the boxcar is too busy being cold and rainy to worry about you now you know. You should be busy worrying about being cold and rainy as you pass the boxcar and its flatcar appendage just as the sun wanders down the horizon, unseen behind the grey ink all splattered and covering everything up and leaking onto the ground, making it cold and rainy.

Strange Company

You saw it. Saw it with your own eyes, as opposed to someone else's, which would certainly be one hell of an anecdote to tell at parties, wouldn't it, but anyway you did--you saw it and it wasn't moving but it wasn't coal cars.

It was a boxcar, a single boxcar sitting on the train tracks in front of your apartment complex. Just sitting there as if it had been there the whole time, an unassuming lump of steel and god knows what else. Why? Who in all the drecks of this planet would just leave a boxcar sitting on the train tracks in front of your apartment complex just yards away from where those apparitious coal cars had once been? Where the hell is the train and how the hell is it going to get its boxcar? The mind boggles.

But then again it's also the same day that the sun was shining bright and it wasn't too cold out but there were still clouds the color of pitch lumbering through the sky so who has time to think of boxcars, really? It was going to rain at any moment and yet it's been hours since you were outside but it is plain to see that the sun is still shining just as carefree as it's been since nine a m that morn.

But damn, that boxcar.