One cold, dark night, the wind howled around Sweet Apple Acres and moaned against the windows panes, which rattled and shuddered as the wind rocked against them. Inside, in the farmhouse, the Cumbrian Mountain Crusaders (or CMC) were bundled up in their pyjamas and lay inside their sleeping bags, listening to the wind.
"I'm glad we chose to use the basement rather than the tent!" Scootaloo commented. The three girls were having the promised sleepover mentioned a while ago, but the plan to sleep out one night had been rapidly abandoned due to the bad weather outside. Now they were indoors in the basement, prepping to go to sleep.
"Trying to sleep outside in this weather would have been horrible," Sweetie Belle said, shivering slightly at even the noise of the wind.
"Ah know they say endurance builds character, but not if it makes ya freezin' cold and potentially blows yer tent down," Apple Bloom added, shrugging her shoulders. "Ah well. May tomorra."
Just then, the door to the basement opened, and Pear Butter stepped in. "Howdy you three," she said, with a smile. "Gettin' ready ta sleep?"
"Yeah," Scootaloo replied. "Thanks for having me over Mrs Butter."
Pear Butter laughed. "Please, call me Pear. Any friend of mah daughter's is effectively family. Do ya need anythin' else before ya go ta sleep?"
Sweetie Belle thought for a moment. "What we need," she said, "is to listen to a story."
"A mysterious story," Scootaloo added.
"But," Apple Bloom stipulated quickly, "it must have a happy endin'."
They half expected Pear to laugh at the suggestion. But, to their surprise, she sat down on a nearby chair and smiled. "Ah haven't told this one in a lon' time," she smiled. "Last time Ah did, Applejack was still a baby. This all started a lon' time ago, when Ah was a lot younger than Ah am now..."
Arlesburgh area, twenty years ago
A long time ago, three little engines lived on their own little railway in their own little shed. Or was it that three little engines lived in their own little shed, on their own little railway? One of the two. These three engines were all saddle tanks. One was painted brown, and had a square cab and a small tender. He was named Duke. The other two lacked tenders, and looked very similar externally. One was painted green, and the other blue. The first was called Stuart, and the second Falcon.
They had drivers, naturally. Duke was driven by a teenage girl with mulberry skin, dark purple hair, and green eyes. She typically wore a cream blouse with black buttons, a green skirt with dots on it, and purple and white boots. Her real name was Cheryl Lee, or Cheerilee for short. Stuart was driven by a girl of a similar age, with light orange skin, dark orange hair that was wild and frizzy, and gentle green eyes. She wore a blue chequered shirt, blue jeans, a belt with an image of a pear set into it as the buckle, and a pair of brown boots. She was usually referred to as Buttercup. Falcon, on the other hand, was driven by a boy in the same age group. He had yellow skin and red hair as bright as you could imagine. As well as green eyes. He wore a white T shirt, a red jacket with brown lapels, a large stetson hat that lived on his head, blue jeans, and brown boots. He was Bright Mac, and to say he didn't have affection for Buttercup would have been a lie.
Duke was the oldest of the three, and was named after the Duke of Sodor. He was very proud of this fact, and incredibly keen to do things the proper way. As a result, he regularly kept the other engines in order. Whenever they did anything that either Duke or Cheerilee disapproved of, he would simply roll his eyes and say, "that would never suit his grace."
Other engines came and other engines went, as did their crews, but Duke and Cheerilee outlasted each and every one of them. The other engines called him Grandpuff, as they were fond of him, but got very tired about hearing about His Grace, and began to jokingly sing about it.
"Engines come and engines go, but Grandpuff goes on forever!" they sang, one morning, as Duke rolled by with a goods train.
Duke sighed. "You impertinent scallywags," he said. "Whatever is the world coming to, Cheerilee?"
"I know," Cheerilee sighed. "We need to do a better job of keeping them in line."
Buttercup giggled. "She already sounds like a schoolteacher!"
"Ah know, right?" Bright Mac added.
Stuart smiled. "No harm meant, Duke," he said. "We were only teasing. Never mind, we're only young once."
"You'd better mind!" snapped Duke. "Unless you intend to end up like Stanley!"
Falcon looked confused. "Who's Stanley?" he asked.
"Stanley," Cheerilee began, "was American, and was cocky and arrogant. He was a rough rider and often came off the rails, but his attitude toward having accidents was disturbingly casual."
"As well I remember," Duke sighed. "I came across him once after he'd had one of his accidents. 'Be careful on the rails, Stanley,' I told him. He took no notice. 'Listen, bud,' he drawled, in that way he did-"
"That is a terrible Midwest accent," Bright Mac said.
Duke continued as if nothing had been said. "'Listen, bud,' he drawled, in that way he did, 'out in the States, and even on the trench lines, we didn't care nothin' for a few spills.' Cheerilee reminded him that we do here, but he just laughed. He wasn't laughing that evening, though."
"What happened?" asked Stuart.
"Management took his wheels off and converted him into a generator unit. He's still there behind the shed, and he's not going anywhere in a hurry." On that note, Duke took off down the line.
Stuart, Falcon, Buttercup and Bright Mac said little for the next few days, and rarely made errors. And so, the three engines and their drivers lived together happily for many years. Sadly, in the mid 1990s, the economy crashed, and hard times came upon the island. The mines began to close, one by one. With no source of income, the railway was forced to close too. Men with clipboards and bowler hats came by, and decided what they wanted to buy.
"We'll have those two," said one man. "But we're not hiring their drivers."
Alas, nobody wanted Duke. "Cheer up, Grandpuff!" called Stuart. "We'll find a new home, and then bring you there and you can keep us in order!"
Everybody tried to be brave, but nobody could predict the future. Cheerilee oiled Duke over one last time, and said goodbye after shutting him in his shed. She had to go back to school, and she had no job now. Bright Mac and Buttercup also returned to whichever country they had come from. Duke wasn't sure if they were Canadian or American.
Duke was all alone. "Oh well," he said. "I'll go to sleep and pass the time. Panicking won't help. That would never suit his grace."
But the Duke had been killed in the War, and the new Duke, a young boy, had no awareness of Duke existing. As the years passed, storms and rains washed all traces of the railway away, and the shed was buried under moss and greenery. You would never have known that a shed was there, let alone a little engine asleep inside.
Sweet Apple Acres, Present day
The three girls had no idea how to react to that. After a few moments of stunned silence, Scootaloo went to comfort Sweetie Belle, who was quietly sobbing about the old engine lost in the hills.
Scootaloo looked up. "Why did you tell us that?" she asked. "That was more or less the opposite of what we asked for!"
"That was really sad," Apple Bloom added. "Where was this railway?"
Pear sat back briefly. "That ain't the end of the story," she said. "Ah can tell ya the next parts, if ya want. But not tonight. You three need ta get off ta sleep."
"Hopefully they'll be more cheerful," Scootaloo replied. "I've had quite my fill of depressing stories about closed railways for the day."