Ouroboros
The sun was searing through every fabric of seclusion, the radiating heat had blurred the visions. Somebody threw himself in front of the approaching train. Everyone heard the grumbling of the rails, the deafening, alarming horn of the train. Everyone saw its bolting speed; everyone saw it moving. Only some noticed that the scene was not devoid of a mishap. Someone noticed an apparition of a man materialized out of the thin air for a fleeting instant and vaporized just as quickly before the collision. Someone noticed a white cloak fluttering, floating in the scorching wind and watched as it enveloped the front of the train on the impact. Someone saw an old, emaciated weakling of a man; a bent spine throwing himself against the wrought iron front of the train and being shredded into bits instantaneously; his boiling blood evaporating just as it made contact with the blazing world outside; finally freed from the narrow sheaths of the veins. Right then, someone felt something wrong had oc...