From the Author:

I decided to put the author's note separately from the story, because I think this requires more than a quick two paragraphs stating how certain characters are not mine, I'm not receiving any monetary compensation, you know the whole bit. Because the characters I didn't create are not mine, in whole or part, nor is the song The Old Black Trian from Over the Garden Wall.

This is incredibly personal for me. And hard, and painful, too – but therapeutic in a way. This is me working through the stages of my grief. So if you feel the need to comment, I'm invoking the "If you have nothing nice to say" rule. Seriously. I don't want to hear some anonymous twat pointing out grammatical errors, or being out of character, or whatever. I fucking don't.

The long and tall of it is we lost my nephew two days after Thanksgiving, rather traumatically and sudden, and it's been really fucking difficult continuing the day to day with the knowledge we'll never see him again. So this is me, as an atheist, coping. And while there are other things I want to write, about him and in general, this seemed to naturally come first.

So if you find this too heavy to read after just being unloaded upon by a total stranger, feel free to turn back now. I won't be offended. Just thought I should give fair warning. Now, I suppose, on with the story.

~Katelynn~

There's an old black train a-coming
Scraping along the iron
You don't need no ticket boys
It will take you when its time

Oh come on now young stranger
Weren't you someone's son?
How'd you find this depot
'Cause it ain't where you belong

You will pass a graveyard
Stones worn by the years
The train'll stop a minute but don't let it leave you here

Well the coachman is my brother
The engineer's my friend
We'll get you more acquainted by the time we reach the end

This journey is a long one
It will take you all around
Life rushing by your window
Before it lays you down

Now where this old train's going
You can't come back from
Leave your baggage here
Because we'll need it when you're gone

-Old Black Train, The Blasting Company