The Ghost Train

“Heya Uncle Toby!”
A cheerful red viscet leapt into the room, waving enthusiastically.
The brown spotted viscet rubbed his temples tiredly.
“Please, Rosie, just call me Tobias. I am not your Uncle.”
“But everyone who works here is an Uncle or Aunt! Since you’re all Dad’s friends, after all.”
Toby sighed loudly but before he could say any more, Rosie piped up again.
“Tell me about the Ghost Train, Uncle Toby!”
Toby froze, not even noticing that he had been called ‘uncle’ again. He thought back to that chilling night. As he dwelled on it, his head echoed with the ghostly whistle of an engine that shouldn’t have been there. He peered at Rosie critically. How did she know?
As if on cue Rosie continued.
“Dad heard you talking about it with Mister Edward.”
“Wait a second,” cried Toby, “How come Edward gets to be ‘mister’ and not ‘uncle’?”
“Well, ‘cause Mister Edward’s the boss,” replied Rosie matter-of-factly.
“Whatever,” resigned Toby, “So what did James say? Was he making fun of me again? I swear, your dad can really be a piece of work sometimes.”
“Umm, I don’t think Dad believed it,” admitted Rosie, “but I gotta know more! Please, I wanna hear it from you, Uncle Toby! What happened?”
Toby crouched down and told Rosie every detail about the night he encountered the ‘Ghost Train’. Though, some parts were embellished and details added for dramatic effect and he didn’t mention the fact that, instead of inspecting further, he simply turned tail and ran. Rosie was so absorbed in the retelling, hanging onto every word. Even Toby was getting chills from his own story.
“Hold up,” paused Toby, “It’s not just me, it really is colder in here.”
His breath came out in clouds, and there was a chilly mist swirling about.
“Oh!” squeaked Rosie, “Sorry, it’s my fault! I was just so interested in what you were saying, it’s giving me ideas for my own story!”
Indeed, the cold fog swirling about seemed to emanate from Rosie’s mane of ice.
“Hmm, you know what,” said Toby, “You’re not the only one getting ideas, Rosie. Maybe we can get back at your dad for not believing in the Ghost Train.”
Rosie smiled mischievously.
“You mean pulling a prank? Pranks are almost as fun as hearing a new story!”


Early the next morning, James waited impatiently on his engine’s footplate for his stoker to arrive.
“Where on earth has he gone?” muttered James to himself, “He’s always here before I am.”
Even from within the cab, he could fully feel the chilly autumn air around him. With no fire in the firebox, there was no relief from the cold.
“Ugh,” resigned James, “I’m done waiting. I’ll light the fire myself.”
Though he hated working directly with the messy coal, he began shoveling it into the firebox.
His ears pricked up when he heard the heavy wheel turns of an engine on the other track. James peered out the cab window.
A thick mist swirled about the approaching engine, almost completely obscuring it. A frigid coldness emanated from it, causing James to shiver. He couldn’t help but think back to Toby’s story of a ghost engine. He didn’t believe it before, thinking it hilarious that the normally stoic Toby was afraid of ghosts.
But then again, Toby is not known to be a liar…
“Ooooooooohhh”
James froze. He recognized that voice and his feathers prickled at the realization.
“Jaaaaaames, heeeeeelp me!”
That was his stoker calling out to him!
“Sorry Perce,” James whispered under his breath as he hightailed it out of there, not wanting to be the Ghost Train’s next victim.


James was long gone before he could hear the giggling and then raucous laughter coming from the ‘Ghost Train’, which was really just the railyard’s switcher engine.
“Great job Rosie!” praised Toby from the controls. He was clad in a thick coat to ward off the cold. “Even though we gave the engine a fine covering of limestone dust, you generated so much fog that we hardly needed it!”
Rosie beamed with pride as she continued to laugh. It was too funny to see her dad run out of there in such a panic.
“Well, hehe, it was a great idea, Uncle Toby!” giggled Rosie, “and I think you did a great job at being a ghost too, Percy!”
James’ missing stoker, Percival, smiled at this. He had to admit it was fun getting a little revenge on his pompous driver for once.
“Wait a second,” interrupted Toby, “How come Percival isn’t an ‘uncle’?”
“Oh, Uncle Toby,” chided Rosie, “Percy is hardly older than me!”
“What!” cried Toby indignantly, “I’m hardly older than he is!”
“But you act like an old geezer,” Rosie replied.
Toby slumped forward over the controls in defeat. But the laughter from the other two was infectious, and remembering the scared look on James’ face made Toby chuckle again.