Fishcake
We follow the train tracks for miles, and everyone gets back to their lives. I 'ide out in the gut, scared that I will be grab again.
Now the excitement of the tracks is over, at least for now, they must be lookin' for me, and I don't want 'em to find me.
So I've only gone out when I 'ave ta. When me tummy's rumblin' so much that I 'ave to put somethin' in it.
I'm up on the top tier, in Pete's Eats when I see peple runnin' past the windows. I grab me burger and run outside.
Run to the barrier.
And see a city.
In the distance.
A static city.
And it is huge.
Full of spires, and shiny metal roofs. A clock tower in the middle, and gleaming white buildings. Grassy areas, and flower beds.
It looks really pretty.
It looks rich.
It looks just what we need.
For though it is big, we are bigger, and we can move. We have the machinery to chomp up their stone walls, to crush their gates, and gutters.
And we have the people who are hungry enough for something different, that are determined that they want a fight, that a fight will be given.
They won't know what has hit 'em.
We trundle closer, churning up the ground into mountains of mud that falls off our massive wheels.
But then something flies from one of the roofs of the buildings. A black dot.
And then another.
'Lighter than air crafts,' someone shouts. 'They have lighter than air crafts.'
'Old tech.'
'We're goin' to be fightin' people usin' old tech.'
The air crafts come closer, and I 'ear the turret of the Cathedral open up behind me, a large gun pokin' out.
That begins to fire at the air crafts.
Who fire back at us.
I run to me pipe, and just get in it and start to shimmy down it when I 'ear the first explosion, and 'ear the sounds of pain.
People dyin,' the people of Preston Traction City dyin.'
I just 'ead to me bed in the gut where I 'ope I'm gonna be okay.