I went to play with my friends on rails. Apart from trains, there was a lot of coal in bags. My parents stole it there for poverty. Now I'd be beaten hard for that. We were very interested in all those wagons. Could they be carried by huge balloons?
That day we started climbing the coal wagon. We did it together with one string. Upstairs, we had a fight over who had been first. Tomek, of course, wanted to be better as usual. We had a fight and I threw him in hay. When he woke up, his figure on the stack staggered. He rolled out of it straight under the massive wagon and our strong friend called for help. I jumped down quickly - I was reasonable, unlike that riff-raff, but as soon as I landed in the haystack, a clash of steel and a terrifying scream were heard. Turning around, I discovered that the train had moved. It did not move much - it used little coal, but enough to cut Tomek's calf. We all went to our homeboy. We pulled him away from the tracks. Then one of the corner sacks flew to the stump. We started to drag the cripple leg further along the gravel and he was tearing vocal cords apart with screams. We picked him up, moved to the neighbourhood. Momentarily, there were a lot of people watching. We had to hurry. Every step was lively. I was supposed to hold Tomek by the bloody stump. I dirty my shirt and pants, just like a deviant stripping of virginity. Actually, we didn't know where to take him. We dragged the cripple to the estate. We called for help, paramedics came running and quickly loaded Tomek on a stretcher.
I couldn't sleep after all that events. The next day, men in uniforms arrived. They asked all kinds of questions. I did not admit to pushing Tomek into the hay, although the 'friends' said so and thus they avoided responsibility. All the hidden truth quickly came to light, and I had an unpleasant time for it. I've never had such a beating before in my life, and I had to pay pension to the cutlasses.
What's the moral of this short story? No hurry, there's room in a car for anyone…