Episode Eighteen: Preparing Samuel’s Final Run

Piedmont Porchlight Stories — Mrs. Delphine’s Dixie Boarding House

That night, Piedmont lay under one of those still, heavy skies—
the kind that holds its breath
and waits
for something to happen.

And deep in the Dixie Boarding House cellar,
beside the ghostly rails that had no business being there,
Samuel T. Norwood waited too.

Mrs. Delphine tucked her apron tighter,
Percy DuBar steadied his leg against the dirt floor,
and both looked at the ghost with the growing certainty
that something was expected of them.

Something holy.
Something strange.
Something railroad.

Mrs. Delphine cleared her throat.

“Alright, Samuel,” she said gently,
“you got us.
Now tell us the next step.”

The ghost pointed to the rails
his rails
then to his lantern
then toward the upstairs door
and finally out toward the night beyond the house.

Percy nodded, eyes shining.

“He wants the line cleared,” Percy murmured.
“It’s what we always did before a big run. Check the path. Make sure the way’s safe.”

Mrs. Delphine blinked.
“The way?”
She frowned.
“But Samuel, Honey, the rails don’t GO anywhere.”

But Samuel merely repeated the sequence.

Rails.
Lantern.
Up.
Out.

Like an order in conductor shorthand.

Percy swallowed hard.

“He’s askin’ us to finish the line for him.”

Mrs. Delphine steadied herself.
“So he can move on?”

Percy shook his head.

“No. So he can bring someone.”

Mrs. Delphine’s breath caught.

“Oh Lord,” she whispered.

Meanwhile… the Railroad Men Aren’t Helping

Back at the depot, the DBH-RIU (Dixie Boarding House Rail Investigation Unit) was holding an emergency meeting of the thoroughly unhelpful variety.

Cap’n Potts slammed his fist into his palm.

“Gentlemen, STN has been confirmed to mean Switchman Turnin’ Northward.”

“That ain’t it,” Virgil muttered, but nobody heard him.

Potts continued:

“He’s changin’ direction.
He’s preparin’ for an ascension!”

Fiddlestick gasped.
Hank crossed himself.
Ellis fainted into a pile of timetables.

Potts paced.

“He needs a clear line, boys. And we’re gonna give it to him.”

Virgil scratched his head.
“Uh… how we do that? Those rails ain’t connected to nothin’.”

Potts slammed a map of the Seaboard system down.

“We clear the real line.”

They all froze.

Hank whispered, “You mean… sweep it?”

Potts grinned.
“Cleaner than a whistle. No leaves, no rocks, no nothin’.”

Thus began the first unauthorized, metaphysically misguided railroad cleanup operation in Alabama history.

Back in the Cellar: Samuel Begins to Show More

Mrs. Delphine watched Samuel as the lantern glow deepened from blue to a soft, aching gold.
Warm.
Sorrowed.
True.

Percy stepped closer, voice trembling.
“Samuel… who are you tryin’ to reach?”

The ghost lifted his hand.

Then

Slowly…
deliberately…
he traced a shape in the air.

Not letters.
Not numbers.

A small hand.

A child’s hand.

Mrs. Delphine gasped.

Percy clapped a trembling palm over his mouth.

“Oh no…
Oh, Lord, no.”

The ghost nodded once.

Delphine whispered, “You were tryin’ to save a child that night.”

Samuel bowed his head.

Percy wiped tears with the back of his wrist.

“That boy… you tried to warn ‘em…
Tried to stop that train before the curve…”

The ghost lifted his eyes,
grieved,
but resolute.

Mrs. Delphine laid a hand over her heart.

“Well then,” she whispered,
“You ain’t bringin’ yourself home.
You’re bringin’ someone else.

Samuel’s lantern flared bright,
so bright the rails beneath them glowed.

The Cellar Shifts

A sound rumbled through the foundation.
Not violent,
but weighty
like a long-forgotten train creeping closer through the soil.

Mrs. Delphine gripped the beam overhead to keep her balance.

Percy held tight to a post.

The ghost stood still as carved stone,
lantern held out,
lantern glowing deep gold.

He tapped twice:

Tap.
Tap.

The rails answered with a faint metallic ting
like a memory saying:

Almost there.

Mrs. Delphine swallowed.

“Percy…
I think this is only the beginning.”

Percy nodded, voice shaking.

“That child Samuel lost…
he’s tryin’ to bring ’em through.”

Samuel turned toward the stairs.

A clear message:

Prepare.
The next station is near.

*****

New Yesterdays can be found at: Books-A-MillionBarnes & Noble, and Amazon, as well as your favorite bookshops. The Audiobook is available from Libro.fm, as well as Amazon.

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About Ol' Big Jim

Jim L Wright has been a storekeeper, an embalmer, a hospital orderly, and a pathology medical coder, and through it all, a teller of tall tales. Many of his stories, like his first book, New Yesterdays, are set in his hometown of Piedmont, Alabama. For seven years he lived in the oldest continuously inhabited city in the world, Amman, Jordan where he spent his time trying to visit every one of the thousands of Ammani coffee shops and scribbling in his ever-present notebook. These days he and his husband, Zeek, live in a cozy little house in Leeds, Alabama. He’s still scribbling in his notebooks when he isn’t gardening or refinishing a lovely bit of furniture. His book, New Yesterdays, can be found at Amazon US, Amazon UK, Smashwords, and Barnes and Noble.
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