Every morning at 3 a.m. I hear a train whistle blow. I open my eyes and for just a moment I am once again watching the trains that rolled through my hometown when I was a child. Once again I am fascinated by what I see through my sleep-filled eyes: freight trains, passenger trains, trains loaded with logs cut from the north woods, trains loaded with coal and trains loaded with cars; trains with the faces of people in the windows looking at the kids running along the tracks. I am one of those kids. Some of the faces had smiles, some blank looks, some of the people offered a half-hearted wave. I always wondered where those trains went. I always wondered about the people whose faces I saw in the windows.
Write a story about the trains you remember or the trains you are yet to experience. Ask yourself where did they go and what adventures did they have.