The Reaper of Mountfield

I hopped on the train just a few minutes before it was due, dropped my bagpack in a corner and stood observing in the doorway. Of course, there was a mask sign. There are always mask signs. But I did not put any on. Well, what would be the worst that can happen to me. Oil poison? Ha!

A few minutes later, the doors closed and the train started moving. It has been a while that I did not visit home. Business was good back then. Business was really good. There was no reason to waste time and go back to Soul City, where everything was already done.

But it felt nice to be on the train again, to feel the rumbling of the wheels on the rails. Trains are such hard workers. They never complain, never rebel, and never let their fellow machines down. Such hard workers. I wish other small motors take example instead of all the nagging and attention seeking they regularly demand - maintenance, they call it! Ha!

The controller came by to check my pass. "Back from field?", he asked. "Yes," I replied, "heading to Soul City briefly." "And then?", he asked again. "Then, more field. Work is not done yet.", I responded admittedly. Of course, back to field. What would an old mower do in the City? I was called the Reaper for a reason, and reap I will.

Ha ha!