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I’d been out to see the trains' footprints, which were like someone had stamped a table into the sand.  They led off into the desert, leaving a trail in the scrub almost wide enough to drive a cart along.  I thought I heard a steam whistle calling from out in the chaparral, wailing in the twilight like a coyote.  “Who would make a train with feet?”

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Read “Enginesong” by Nathaniel Lee, in Issue #138

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Nathaniel Lee has an English degree and thus considers himself basically unemployable if he ever loses his current (unrelated) position. His short fiction has appeared in venues such as Penumbra, Escape Pod, Pseudopod, Flash Fiction Online, and Toasted Cake. His self-described sappy little story “The Alchemist’s Children” is in Alex Shvartsman’s Unidentified Funny Objects anthology.

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