Train Wreck Gif Novels & Stories

The thought of waking up with the worst case of sunburn looking like a donut from a local store made me decide it wasn't worth risking it at all. I turned on my side letting my ass enjoy a little breeze and that's when I saw it. The bag was struggling with a wave trying to decide whether to stay or return to the open sea. I rushed on my feet and sprinted towards it making a frantic dive. I grabbed it pushing it to the safety of my enormous tits. Only after I was certain it was safe in my clutches did I get up and move to see the contents. The black bag must have come from the wreck. It looked expensive and yet simple. The type of bag you'd take for a 3day trip on a stupid cruise celebrating

“You’re a fuckin’ psycho.” “Yes, Michael, you’ve already covered that.” I smile at him as I move the blade faster between his fingers. I sing and watch as genuine fear grips him. He knows he is staring at a monster and has nowhere to go and no one to help him. “Engine, engine number nine, going down the Chicago line. If the train goes off the track, do you want your money back?” “Fuck,” Michael screams as he pulls his hand back. Blood now spilles violently where his index finger connected at the knuckle a moment ago.

The colossal, fifty-ton black locomotive drifted into the gorge, its massive spiked treads locking and throwing up a tsunami of frozen mud and crushed stone as it skidded to a violently perfectly timed halt. Steam hissed from the venting valves in a deafening, furious cloud, obscuring the front of the train. The blue glow of the chalcedony dual-core engine pulsed from the undercarriage, casting an eerie, celestial light against the red rock of the canyon. Vance took a step back, his eyes widening in absolute horror. He had received the panicked radio transmissions from the rearguard, but his mind had rejected the reality. A train couldn't cross the plains without tracks. A train couldn't plo

Thunder rumbled angrily in the distance as the truck bumped unsteadily forward. I flinched in response; Gage being knocked off his bike by the vicious, oversized wolf flashing in my mind’s eye again as the steering wheel jerked in my talon-like hands. I forced myself to concentrate on the road ahead, my mind running rampant with trepidation as queries kept coming up. Would it be possible for Gage to survive the wreck I’d witnessed? Even if he did, would he be able to fight off the wolves in that condition?

“Near the bridges. There’s a whole convoy of fricken’ werewolves from Trayrock wanting to come over the train bridge.” “A convoy from Trayrock?” Sigrid frowned. “Yep. They’re calling themselves refugees.”

If I wanted any chance at having enough energy for what I planned once Lena was back in my arms, I needed caffeine—fast. Sliding into a booth, I waved over the waitress. “Large black coffee, please.” The place was decked out in old-school diner flair, yet much of the original railcar interior had been preserved. I was literally sitting in a vintage train seat when my phone vibrated in my pocket. Seeing her name on the screen made my entire body jolt. It wasn’t a message. It was pictures. Three of them. A stunning shot of her breasts. Another of those perfect legs. And finally… her ass—the same ass I’d dreamed about every damn night since she’d left.

Chris scowled his from being the elevator doors. Lyn was almost finished, she had cleared all rooms that were checking out, but she was verifying the housekeepers thoroughly cleaned the rooms. She knocked on room 319 ," Front Desk Supervisor. " no reply, she inserted her master key card and opened the room door and instantly froze. Chris was inside his room unpacking. Railroad life was hard. His body ached from having to physically connect two freight cars together. He took out a fresh set of clean clothes, a nice hot shower would help relax his site muscles. He quickly finished his diet and wrapped a towel around his waist. He could housekeeping in the next room vacuuming, the noise irritat

One hand hung from the front of the train like a macabre hood ornament, while his brain matter flung like thrown meat onto Breanna's face. People screamed. Others looked away, at the same time, the train brake squealed to a halt. One of the panicking civilians had pulled the emergency bell moments ago. The scene—burned into Breanna's skull, making her number. She just stood frozen on the edge of the train door, while the brain matter dripped down her face—onto the metal floor. The incoming train finally passed, revealing the aftermath of its speed. The rail track looked like someone threw a sack of raw meat into a turbine.

The explosion that followed silenced the cries. From the darkness, illuminated by the fire engulfing the train, the figure that had been waiting by the roadside approached the wreckage. He stopped before it and pulled the hood from his face. His face was a horrid affair, a decaying patch with worms crawling out of it. He raised his hand towards the train and the train shivered violently, even as it was still burning. Wraiths of bodies, translucent and glimmering a ghoulish blue, rose from the wreckage. The faces on these wraiths were confused and they seemed to be drawn to the being rather than moving towards the figure by the roadside. On sighting him, they started screaming, high-pitched,