Central YMCA High School - Centralite Yearbook (Chicago, IL)

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O.l ni- ug LITERARY A MOMENT OF FEAR The tracks of the New York Central lay between my home and the school which I attended. The nearest subway was several blocks to the east. It had become my practice at the time of this incident, in order to save going out of the way, to walk to these tracks, leap a narrow ditch that paralleled the right-offway, cross the rails and the switch-yard, jump a similar ditch on the other side, and then go on to school. Each morning I timed myself with the Washington Limited as it tore along on its way downtown, and I always waited until it had passed before I crossed. One spring morning I left my home a little earlier than usual because a dense fog had arisen and I did not wish to be late. The air was cold and damp, the clammy mist seemed to deaden all sound, so that a deathlike stillness reigned. Coming to the railroad tracks, I jumped the ditch and started to cross. Suddenly the silence was shattered by a terrific shriek and my heart jumped to my mouth as I realized that somewhere down the track the Washington Limited was speeding with all its deadly force in my direction. I stood chained to the spot. A cold chill crept up my spine. Wrapped in the mist I could not tell on which track the train was approach' ing, and, sick with fear, I knew not what to do. Blinded by the fog, helpless, paralyzed, frantic, I waited for the inevitable end. I was stunned by the realization that I was standing in the path of the onrushing train. To my tense nerves, its thunder seemed to resound on all sides, and though I strained my ears to the utmost, I could not tell just how near the Grim Reaper was. But somewhere, coming closer and closer every moment, I knew it approached with its inevitable death. The shrill signal rent the air once more as the engineer of the train warned the crossing keeper of his approach and, with its warning blast, I became galvanized into action. Not stopping to consider, not pausing to think, I rushed blindly across the rails, and, coming to the edge of the ditch, I jumped. In the fog I miscalculated the distance, and, instead of landing safely on the other side, I splashed down on my face into icefcold water and mud. I was young and in love with life, and for a moment I lay still, grateful that I had been spared from a terrible death. Then, as I lay in the ditch, a string of empty freight cars, drawn by a wheezing, clanking, old switchfengine, drew up along the siding three tracks away from the one on which, a few moments before, I had been standing, and I discovered that not for a moment, except in the terror of my mind, had I been in danger. WM. F. ZACHARIAS. Page seventy-seven 51 -v 4 . TWWWT n

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