Tuesday, October 22, 2019

Beware the Midnight Train



Every community has its local legend, and my small town in Middle Georgia is no exception. Cochran has always been a sleepy little farming community, dotted with cotton fields and catfish ponds. When I was growing up, the railroad used to cut through the swamp behind my house, and on summer nights I’d hear its keening wail and imagine it was some mysterious animal.

I wasn’t the only one to mythologize the midnight train. My friends and I made up stories about it — where was it going? where had it been? who rode those rails through the humid night, anonymous behind the glass and steel? — and imagined a life beyond the red clay ditches. Perhaps this was the reason for the legend that sprung up about the railroad tracks, our parents and grandparents sensing the lure of the outbound train. Perhaps it is they who first started the stories of Huggin’ Molly. Or perhaps her story really is true and has, having passed from mouth to mouth down the railroad line, become legend.

All I know is this: on moonless nights, when the train would come through, if you stood close to the tracks you could hear her crying for her lost lover. Her sobbing would mix with the train whistle. And then you’d better hide. You’d better move as far away from those tracks as you could get. Because even though Huggin’ Molly looked like any other woman, she always wore mourning clothes topped with a long black veil — and a sailor hat. And she had arms so long that she would snatch you right up off the side of the road, snatch you into her relentless embrace, snatch you onto the midnight train. And your scream would mingle with the banshee whistle and you’d be taken away down the tracks, never to be seen again.

I never saw Huggin’ Molly. But I cannot hear a train whistle without feeling a shiver race down my spine. Without taking a step backwards. Without imagining those long, long arms.


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Tina Whittle writes the Tai Randolph/Trey Seaver mysteries. The sixth book in this Atlanta-based series—Necessary Ends—is available now. Tina is a proud member of Sisters in Crime and has served as both a chapter officer and national board member. Visit her website to follow her on social media, sign up for her newsletter, or read additional scenes and short stories: www.tinawhittle.com.

4 comments:

  1. Spooky story, Tina. The elders of the town probably circulated that story to keep kids off the track. LOL. My hometown in Pennsylvania had the story of the lady of Wopsonnock Mountain. It was said that she was killed on the mountain and that people driving the road late at night would see her. Fortunately, I never did.

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  2. Those train whistles are spooky. We have two freight trains a day that wail their way through the countryside. Some crossings have no protection beyond the crossed sign & a warning to stop, look and listen.

    Our resident ghost is beneath an old covered bridge. He supposedly fell from his horse one rainy night and drowned in the creek beneath. Since he was drunk, he didn't realize he died, so on rainy nights, he waits at the bridge to try to commandeer pasting vehicles (or horses) which he will then attempt to steer toward his home in the mountains. They will never be seen again.

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  3. These kinds of stories certainly create quite a mood and eerie feeling.

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  4. Thank you for sharing your own spooky stories. I love these regional tales. One of my relatives gathered our very specific rural middle Georgia stories into a book. I still enjoy reading those stories and seeing the names of my family attached to them.

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