text: This is the last time I'll see this place. I'm writing this while riding the last trip of the Southern Tracks. Not many people know of this railway - in fact, most of them look at me like I'm crazy when I even mention such a route - but I know about it. When I heard it was shutting down and doing its last runs tonight, I had to take one last trip. No one ever checks the cars on this route; no one cares enough. I've been able to ride this millions of times without once being caught. I'm not the only one, either; once, a few years ago, I met a rather lovely old, blind man sleeping in the car that I hopped on who told me stories of the way the world used to be; another trip, I came across a kind young woman in the most extravagant black dress you have ever seen, with rich silky ribbons and glittering jewels that shone in a way that I had only ever read about in stories, and she had no idea how she got aboard the train! “One minute,” she had said, all those years ago, “I was on my way to downtown, and next thing I know, I wake up in the hay in some...” Well, I'd rather not repeat what else she said. I'll miss this, though, watching as the dark fields and rolling night hills zip past beneath the waning moon. My mom used to tell me to be wary of the night time rides, as you never know where you were going to end up. She was a smart woman, and for years I never once touched the midnight Southern Tracks train. Then, one day, they found her dead by the noon Southern Tracks train. I'm still not entirely sure who “they” were, exactly, but I'm rather inclined to believe them; she was never the best at telling the difference between noon and midnight when written down. I've only been going on the midnight train rides ever since. I'm not sure I recognize this place anymore. Of course, that's one of the joys of travel, seeing new places. But, I don't think I've ever seen a place in all of these train rides where the night feels like all there is; I can't even make out the tracks below the train. In fact, I'm not entirely sure the train is on any tracks anymore. I'm not sure where this train is heading. I'm not sure where \*I'm\* headed. In fact, I'm not quite sure how long I've been on the Southern Tracks now. Maybe there's a stop not too far from wherever I am now. I can see the hills again now. The same, rolling ones, illuminated faintly by a waxing moon in the otherwise void of night. I know I shouldn't, but I can't help but smile as I reminisce on the past with this train. This is the last time I'll see this place.