22 August 2026

Winning Word: Velvet

22 August 2026

Velvet

It was cold. Bitter cold. The kind of cold that comes suddenly and lingers like an uninvited visitor at the door. There was no wind. Just that first shock of an unexpected gust and then it just stayed there. It didn’t move, but stayed still, wrapping me in an inescapable blanket of dead air. There was no snow. No rain. Just the cold and then a thick layer of low fog roiling in misty waves down the track of road to the north. I followed it. Without reason, or thought, or hesitation, I followed that menacing ribbon of white, seduced by its silent, beckoning promise. Then, as if pulled out of a fingerless grasp, the silence bellowed in protest. Noise. People. Music. Laughter. Singing. Talking. Chatter. A cacophony of unintelligible sounds – swirling around like echoes of a carnival funhouse – a garbled mélange of scratching and squawking – a discordant crescendo ending as abruptly as the falling blade of a guillotine stifles a breath. My head began to loll to the side, and I could feel the long shadows as they fell upon my face. Each one passing in 2/4 time, in rhythm, like the metronome of a ghostly orchestra. One…two. One…two. One…two. Click…clack. Click…clack. Click…clack. The shadows, stepping in time with the darkness, disappeared into that hazy ribbon of white, relinquishing my mind to the blinding globe of hazy fog, and then it spoke.

The disembodied voice growled -- a low, angry, exhausted moan. No...no...NO!

Silence again.

Then the lurching sound. Heavy tread upon a gravel path, agonizing over a burdensome load. Pulling, dragging. Closer...closer. Another mournful groan fell upon my ears like the release of dank, musty air escaping from a long-sealed chamber. As I tried to raise my hands to muffle its torturous lament, a sudden, fearsome grasp took hold of my arm. The voice became angrier and grew more percussive as the grasp moved to my shoulders, shoving me back into consciousness.

*********

“Hey! Wake up!” She practically shouted

“Uh…Umm…OK, OK! I’m awake! Stop it! Where are we?” I tried shaking the sleep from my head to get my bearings

“Almost at the border,” she said. “We crossed the bridge at Northport about 5 miles ago, and the border is just ahead. Maybe a couple more miles, I guess.” She sounded annoyed

“Whoa! Just asking. Sorry I fell asleep. Sheesh!” I yawned

“The car died,” she said matter-of-factly

“What? What do you mean, the car died? Did we run out of gas? I kept telling you we should stop for…

“No. We. Did. Not. Run. Out. Of. Gas.” She punctuated every word with a slap of her palms on the steering wheel

“Okay. Okay. I’m sorry. But what happened? How did it just up and die? Cars don’t just up and die all of a sudden!

“Well, this one did!” she said as she got out of the car, slamming the door shut to emphasize her point

Now, fully awake, I leaned over and turned the ignition key. Nothing. I looked at the dash lights. Dark. I looked at the gauges. Pegged at zero. I looked at her. Crying

“C’mon, babe, it’s got to be something electrical. Maybe a loose wire, or the alternator, or something. Maybe something really simple, like a loose battery cable. We’ll figure it out. Come here.” I put my arms around her and waited until her tension eased

“Try it now,” I shouted from behind the hood of the car. Other than fiddling a bit with the battery cables and checking their connection, I had no clue as to where to find the cause of the electrical failure

“Did you try it?” I called

“Yes. Nothing yet,” she called back

“Probably a damned computer chip!” I mumbled

“What did you say?” she yelled

“Nothing.” I closed the hood as she got out of the car

“Yeah, same here.” She showed me her phone, vacant of a signal and with zero charge

I pulled out my phone. “Ditto,” I said

“What are we going to do?” She looked around the lay-by where she’d managed to pull off and down a little hill from the two-lane road. “Maybe we should walk up along the road to see if we can flag someone down. Or maybe we can make it to the border. It can’t be more than a few more miles.

“Well, I guess we could go up to the road and see what luck we have in finding a good Samaritan. But I haven’t seen any cars pass since we’ve been here. Look, it’s getting dark, and I don’t want to be walking along that road at night. Especially in the fog. We’re both tired, and it’s probably best that we get some rest. We have plenty of snacks and water, and we could get a fresh start in the morning. Plus, it would be kinda cozy, don’t you think?

*********

VROOOM!!

She jumped as the sound of the engine brought her back from a deep sleep

“Good morning, sunshine!” I grinned at her sleepy, startled face. “We’ve been electrificated!” I wriggled my fingers above my head

“You’re kidding! What? Really?” She threw off my jacket she’d been using as a blanket and squealed

“Yup. We sure are, m’lady.

“Oh wow! What? How’d you fix it? What did you do?

“I didn’t. And nothing,” I said, wishing I could have taken some credit for a sudden onset of automotive brilliance

“Mmmmm I love you!” She squealed again, this time including the squeal with an enthusiastic hug and a kiss to my face

We set off to the north again, Canada a mere 2 miles away.

“What do you think happened?” She asked as we crossed the border

“No idea. It doesn’t make any sense. I just decided to give it a go and…she started right up. Weird, huh?

“Weird,” she echoed. “Maybe we should stop for gas.” She teased – almost.

*********

She wandered around the roadside gas station as I chatted with the elderly man who insisted on pumping the gas into the car himself. It was quite the relic, this old station. The antique pump still stood proudly in front of a small brick building, which housed a little sundry shop on one side, and a one-bay garage that had probably not serviced a vehicle since the 1950s on the other

“Wow. Some place you’ve got here. Quite impressive too.” I remarked, looking up at the top of the old pump still crowned with the Imperial Gasoline globe

“Yup. Been around a long while. Still good though. Business picked up since they fixed up SR 25 some years back,” he said

“Say, your garage over there. Still a working garage?” I asked, pointing to the sign that read “Car Service” above the garage bay door

“You betcha,” he said proudly as he placed the nozzle back into the pump cradle and stuck his thumbs through the shoulder straps of his overalls. “Why? Got car trouble?” He asked almost eagerly

“Nah. Well, I did, sort of, I guess.” I stammered

“Sort of? You guess? Either you had car trouble, or you didn’t. Did ya or didn’t cha?” What was he? My drill sergeant

“Oh, yeah, well. It was just a little electrical thing. Perfectly fine now, though…but we did end up a bit stranded last night… on the side of the road. But she started up just fine this morning.” I said

“Yup. Okay. Uh-huh,” he said, deadpan. Then, he turned and strode to the open door of the garage, calling out “Jacob!” as he went

Incredulous, I watched as he shuffle-stepped his way to the open bay. “Hey! What do I owe you for the gas?” I shouted after him

“Inside,” he shouted back, hitching a thumb over his retreating shoulder in the direction of the sundry shop.

**********

“There you are!” She looked over her shoulder as I entered the shop, the tinkle of the little bell above the door giving away my entrance. “Come have a look at these!” She had turned back to face the far wall

“Whatcha looking at?” I sidled up to her, putting my arms around her waist

“Look at these old photos. They’re so old they should be in a museum! Wow! This one is kind of creepy.” She pointed at a photo of what looked to be an old railway station

“Oh, yeah,” I said. “It is creepy. I mean, look at their faces. Why does everyone in old pictures look like they’re all p-o’d all the time? Kind of scary. I mean, look. Do you see anyone with an actual smile on their faces? C’mon! Say CHEESE, people!” I laughed and tickled at her side

“Stop it!” She pushed my hand away with a giggle. “No, not the people. I mean, yeah, you’re right. But nobody ever smiles in old pictures. I think they were afraid of the camera. Something like it would take away their spirit or something.” She shrugged and looked back at the photo. “No, I mean look at where it was taken. I mean, it’s creepy because I think that’s where we were stuck last night.

“Yes, siree. That’s Velvet alright. Got stuck there didja?” The old man’s voice startled us out of our scrutiny

“Whoa, dude! Don’t sneak up on people like that!” I yelped

“What’s velvet?” She asked, apparently unfazed by his sudden interjection

“That there.” He pointed at the picture of the dour people in front of the train station. “See that little one there? The one with the cap, holding that lady’s hand?” He tapped his finger on the boy’s face. “That’s my Pop and my grandma,” he said proudly

“Your Pop’s name was Velvet?” I blurted. She looked at me with that ‘are you a complete idiot?’ look

“No,” she said, pointing to the little signpost that read ‘Velvet Station’ in the background

“Gotcha.

“Yep. Velvet. Velvet, Washington. That photo was taken right about the time the station closed. My Pop must have been about three or four there.” He paused – a bit of sadness in his eyes. “Ah, well, anyhow, there’s my grandma. She used to tell me stories about how sometimes the only way she could get my Pop to sleep when just a baby was to take him down to that station. Heh! As soon as he heard the clickity-clack of that old telegraph machine, he was out like a light. Heh, Heh.

She was listening intently to his memoir. I stared at the photo

“…mainly for ore transport from the Velvet Mine. But, then later for passengers. Not many passengers through there, though. Like I said, lots of ore – gold ore. That there was a good reserve they say. But I dunno what happened. Probably got swallowed up by one of them big mine companies or some such. Dunno. There was a post office too, though.” He peered more closely at the photograph. “Nope. Can’t see the post office.” He shook his head and went on. “Yep, that was probably the last day. That’s why they were there. Kind of a farewell party, so to speak. Maybe there to wave the last train out of Velvet.” He stepped forward and peered at the photograph through his spectacles. “Yep. Sure was. Lookie there.” He pointed to the faded inscription on the bottom-right corner of the image. “It says here. ‘Velvet Station, 21 August 1920 ~ Oreck L. Cinders, The Chronicle’. Well, what do you make of that?” He chuckled. I did a double take at the inscription

“But…August 21st. That…that was yeste…

“What happened to it?” She interrupted, too enthralled by his recount to notice

“Dunno. Nobody does. It’s like the whole place just withered up and died. Just like that. My grandfolks took my Pop and my aunt and moved to Vancouver. And that was that.” His reply was so mundane, he might have been just telling you what time it was.

“Hey Gramps!” A young man shouted as he emerged from a door on the opposite side of the little shop. “I got nothin’ on the meter. Couldn’t find anything wrong with the electrics. At least none showed up on the diagnostic scanner, and they’re pretty darned accurate.” He took his eyes away from the digital device in his hand, shrugged at his grandfather, and waved to us.

“Well, sounds like you’re good to go.” The old man said.

“Bu..but. Wait. What do you mean? When did –”

“Never you mind. I just had my grandson there take that little scanner do-whacky thing and run a test on your car while we were talkin’. Don’t want a nice young couple like you gettin’ stranded again.” He gave us a rather toothless grin as he turned to walk toward his grandson. “Have a nice day, and don’t worry about the fog. It only hits that little valley one day every year.”

“But, wait!” She called after him. “What do we owe you for the gas?”

“And the car diagnostics?” I chimed in.

His response came with a wave of his hand as he and his grandson disappeared through the door back into the garage.

**********

Long have we been suffering

Upon the mountain pass.

Down into the shafty light,

A fortune’s die we cast.

By switchback route

The overburden,

Cars of heavy load,

Creak the rail to Velvet

To be bartered, bought, and sold.

The Hinterland, some called it,

Within the craggy peaks,

The foggy lantern glimpses,

The riches that we seek.

And through her veins

Runs the blood

Of love and hate combined;

But for the lucky, very few

True happiness will it find.

The ghostly, velvet veins

Cut from the ageless rock,

Rest upon the glutton’s plate,

And on the ladies’ frock.

The beasts with heavy burden

Struggle to descend,

Their weary backs a testament,

To greed’s unhealthy end.

Once alive with song and dance,

A ghostly fiddle plays

Its eerie chords a mournful cry

Of long-forgotten days.

And now only the remnants

Of riches and regret,

Lie in the silent railway stop

In a place they called Velvet.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Velvet, Washington is an actual place. It is located in northwestern Stevens County in the State of Washington. Velvet served primarily as a small mining and transportation settlement deriving its name from the Velvet Mine, located across the Canadian border in British Columbia. The ore from the mine was transported through the train station at Velvet. Both the train station and the post office in Velvet ceased to exist around 1920. Once a vibrant hub of activity and prosperity, today, Velvet is considered a ghost town, with no designated landmarks. The reference to August 21, 1920 is conjecture. It is not clear when the last train departed Velvet Station, nor what became of all of the people who passed along her platform.

If you would like to read more about Velvet, Washington, please follow this link:

https://revisitwa.org/waypoint/velvet/?utm_source=chatgpt.com