I felt a little dizzy, but the joy that Pinkie was giving me made me feel as if I was better already. At least, my heart was lighter.
Suddenly, I heard a whistle in the distance. “Did you hear that, Pinkie?” “It’s a train whistle, far away.”
But a strange noise grew closer and closer and new whistles pierced the silence. The horror hit me all at once.
“It’s the train, Pinkie. The Mangaratiba. The murderer!” And the sound of the wheels on the tracks grew, frighteningly.
“Climb up here, Pinkie. Quickly, Pinkie.” Pinkie couldn’t keep his balance on the pipe because of the shiny spurs.
“C’mon, Pinkie, give me your hand. It wants to kill you. It wants to kill you. It wants to crush you. It wants to chop you up.”
Pinkie had barely climbed onto the pipe, when the wicked train charged past, whistling and blowing out steam.
“Murderer! Murderer!” But the train continued speeding over the tracks. Its voice came to us between fits of laughter.
“It wasn’t my fault... It wasn’t my fault... It wasn’t my fault... It wasn’t my fault...”
All the lights in the house came on and my room was invaded by sleepy-eyed faces. “It was a nightmare.”
Mother took me in her arms, trying to quell my sobs against her chest. “It was just a dream, son... A bad dream.”
I began to throw up again while Glória told Lalá what had happened. “I woke up to him shouting ‘murderer’.
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