Lost In The Fog
by J.D. Beresford
‘Burden,’ I muttered. ‘Where in God’s name may Burden be?’
I found something unutterably sad in the sound of that name.
I felt lonely and pitiable.
It was bitterly cold, and the mist was thicker than ever.
I could hear no one. There could be neither porter nor station-master here. Evidently this station was nothing more than a ‘Halt,’ on what I presently discovered was only a single line. I was alone in the dreadful stillness. The world had ceased to exist for me. And then I stumbled upon the little box of a waiting-room, and in it was a man who crouched over a smouldering fire.
When I went in, he looked quickly over his shoulder with the tense alertness of one who fears an ambush. But when he saw me, his expression changed instantly to relief, and to something that was like appeal.
‘What brings you here?’ he asked with a weak smile.