"Gold Camp Road"

[Sam Kenobi]

The Colorado Springs Gazette put out a Holiday Fiction Contest for writers in town in light of the release of The Polar Express. The challenge was to write a short story, an original piece of fiction, no longer then 1200 words and incorporate the following: a train in Colorado, a mountainside, a deep forest, winter, and a holiday theme.

This is my entry. I had to water it down from 1600 words, but I think it still carries the same story. Let me know how you like it.


Gold Camp Road

My story begins with another one, which I�ve recently read and since made the connections to.

The Cripple Creek Short Line Railroad was a direct route from Colorado Springs to Cripple Creek when it was built in the 1800s. The rail company went bankrupt in 1919, and the line was turned into a county road that passed through three of the nine railroad tunnels in the mountainside. Legend has it that a school bus carrying elementary students went through the third tunnel and it collapsed, trapping the bus underneath. When it was discovered that the bus had been caught, it was too late to save anyone. The children, teacher, and bus driver, had all perished in the rocky tomb. Retrieval of the dead became futile when it was found that the roof of the bus was the only thing holding up the rest of the tunnel. So the bus and the children stayed there � on Gold Camp Road.

***

It was 1995 and I was nine years old. I remember the cabin being warm, though now that I look back, it was drafty and old. My family loved it still, and that�s why we�d spend each Christmas there in the mountains just south of Colorado Springs. Far enough out of the city where we lived our everyday lives. Christmas was different, naturally, and required a non-everyday place to spend it.

The lush forest of evergreen spread as far as a nine year old can imagine, and with imagination, a nine year old knows that �as far as it could go� means �forever�. I loved to stand on the back porch and watch the sun go down over the mountains, the stars wash across the sky like God had spilled the salt on his black tablecloth of night.

It was on that back porch of the old cabin that I first heard the singing. It was quiet at first, but as it came into chorus, I could hear more clearly. �Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer�. I glanced back into the cabin where my parents, brother, aunt, and two cousins were sitting by the fireside. My mom was reading Nicholas: The True Story of Santa Claus out loud, a tradition we still hold. I had heard it so many times before and was growing weary of hearing my mom cry at the end. Thus, I was outside. But my family wasn�t singing. That was the point. Someone else was out in the woods.

I stayed out as the winter breeze began to pick up. It seemed to carry the notes better, the tunes sweetly complimenting the refreshing wind. I made a mental note to ask about any surrounding cabins when I got back inside.

***

The next day, my inquiries were discounted. No other cabins in the area, especially not in range to hear singing from, my dad said. Maybe I was imagining things, or maybe my cousin Tyler had left his tape player on downstairs.

It had come from over the ridge though, just southwest of the cabin. I had seen some lights earlier and knew there was a road up there. Figuring there would be singing again that night, I made up my mind to go investigate.

Darkness fell, and I left the house as I had done the past couple of nights. I climbed off the porch and flicked on my mini Maglight, a luxury from the Christmas before, and started climbing upward. The woods were darker, and the climb was defiantly longer then I had anticipated. I wasn�t scared though. It was Christmas Eve, after all.

When I came to the top of the ridge, emerging slightly from the woods, I dropped immediately to my stomach, hiding myself in some brush near the apex. The singing. This time it was �Jingle Bells�. And I knew it wasn�t from a cabin. Not from Tyler�s tape player.

The road ended at the collapsed entrance of a tunnel about fifty yards from where I lay. A chain link fence surrounded the boulders that had carelessly fallen from the mountainside to cover the entrance.

The singing came from children. They climbed through a hole from the tunnel side of the fence to gather near the road. About thirty of them came out, followed by a woman, and a man with a beard and a baseball cap. I watched silently, hardly feeling the snow I was laying in seep through my coat. They finished their song and stood in a serene silence.

I jumped when I heard a blast from a train. A train? The entourage turned, and I did too, just as a foggy train burst out of a second tunnel to my right, coming to a screeching halt in front of the group. I didn�t notice at the time that there were no tracks.

The children were quiet, albeit giddy as they moved with the woman and the man in the cap toward the door of the first passenger car.

The door opened.

They spread out, allowing room for a man in a red coat.

He tugged a large brown sack over his shoulder.

My jaw dropped.

It was Santa Claus.

He reached into his sack and produced a brightly wrapped gift for each child. As they parted into smaller groups to open presents, the jolly man held up a hand to stop the woman and the man in the cap. He reached into his sack again and pulled out a small gold chain necklace with a charm for her. For him, a new ball cap. She seemed to be weeping. I watched as Santa gave her a close, encouraging hug before turning her back to the children. She smiled again as they all showed her their new toys.

His presence all but forgotten, St. Nick climbed back up onto the train, whose steps moved like a cloud as each black boot landed. He looked back, catching my eye, and winked. The train whistled and began to move. I stared, stunned, as the train passed and disappeared through the solid rock of the collapse.

The phantom train gone, my attention moved again to the children as they were herded back to the tunnel. They crawled through the fence and with their new prizes, disappeared through the solid rock just as the train had done. The woman followed. The man in the hat stopped at the last moment, replacing his old cap with the new one, then he, too, disappeared.

***

My journey back didn�t seem as long. I dodged questions of my whereabouts, insisting that that I was just too tired. Once I was in bed, my aunt came to tuck Tyler in and I heard him speak.

�Mom, did Santa come yet?�

�Not yet, hon.�

�How will he come down the chimney if there�s a fire?�

�He has his ways.� She tried to add some mystery to her voice. Tyler continued talking.

�My friend doesn�t have a chimney. How�?�

�Santa drives his car to the front door.�

I made a pact to myself not to tell my family what I had seen.

�Oh.�

�Don�t worry, he�ll come. He doesn�t forget.�

Outside, I heard a train blow its horn.

[ILoveHarry]

I love it, Sam!!! Just the right amunt of spooky, mixed with Christmas sentiment.