by
Marcus Latimore
Woodlawn High School, '02
At 7:45 A.M., on a chilly and foggy morning in February, a frightening thing happened to me. As a friend and I were on our way towards school, we were approaching a railroad crossing. As we walked up to the tracks, a long train was racing by. I must have gotten too close because as the train rattled down the track, a steel rod which was sticking out of the train suddenly hooked into my jacket and started dragging me along with the train. When the rod took hold of me, my heart started to race, and I started running sideways. My mind went blank, unable to comprehend what was happening to me. As I was being dragged across about a half mile of the jagged rocks and asphalt lining the tracks, my jacket was beginning to tear apart, and I was beginning to feel blood running down my back. Finally, after what seemed like forever and a day, the rod ripped from my jacket and let me go. When I got up, surprised that I could walk, I dusted myself off and checked myself to see what injuries I had. There were only a cut on my hand, scrapes and bruises on my back, and small gashes on the back of my leg and the back of my head, but I must have really looked terrible to my friend as he ran up to me. My khaki pants were ripped, and my shirt and ripped-up jacket were covered with blood. As I stopped and thanked God for watching over me, I already knew that day would dwell in my mind every day as the most frightening experience in my life.