It was a bright and sunny morning as we traveled through the mountains. My brakes quietly squealed as we descended a steep section of track, Sierra #3's brakes doing the same behind me.
Speaking of #3, I realize that I completely glossed over the part where we uncoupled City of Truro and brought the engine onto the train, so I want to go over what actually happened.
Basically, because #3 is an American engine and the train consisted entirely of British rolling stock, there was a coupling issue.
You see, British rolling stock use what is known as "Buffer and Chain" coupling. This consists of two buffers, a hook, and a chain that connects to a hook on a separate car. American rolling stock, however, use "Janney" couplers. These are essentially massive sideways hooks that semi-automatically tighten when pushed together. The reason the Americans used these is because it was significantly less lethal than the previous "Link and Pin " coupling, and because it was far stronger and could easily handle the forces of the heavy rolling stock they used.
If you were to put these two types of coupling side by side, anyone with their eyes open can see that they can't exactly fit together. This meant we had to quickly retrofit #3 with hooks so it could pull the coaches.
But this also posed a second issue. Brakes. #3 used what are known as Air Brakes. The entire train including myself were fitted with Vacuum brakes. I won't go into specifics, but simply put, vacuum brakes consists of a continuous pipe running throughout the length of the train. In normal running, a partial vacuum is maintained in the pipe, and the brakes are released. Air brakes, on the other buffer, use compressed air to release the brakes of a train.
While both use pipes that run throughout the train, they cannot mix in the slightest. This meant that if I was on the front of the train, like we had planned, only myself and #3 could provide braking to the train. And we couldn't exactly run a line around #3 to connect to the forward coach.
Despite my suggestion that we should either stick with Truro or couple me behind #3, the princesses were insistent that I was on the front of the train. I wasn't entirely against this. Being from a railway that hadn't fully adopted continuous vacuum brakes, I had experience being one of if not the only source of braking on a train. So we went through with the decision.
Steering back to the story, the journey to the Neighagra Falls was uneventful. The views we were able to see were, as usual, breathtaking.
But when we got to the Falls, hoh. That was a view that has stuck with me all this time. I could see for miles down a series of lakes, spotting the towns and villages that dotted the sides of them. Hope Hollow, Windsoar, Green Neigh, to name a few. We sat on the bridge that spanned the falls for the better part of fifteen minutes before continuing.
We rounded a bend, and there was the city of Manehattan. I couldn't help but laugh. I had always heard that American cities were big, but this was absurd. The massive silver blocks scraped the sky, standing proudly against the winds that pelted them. Few buildings were quite as tall as them.
As I continued to stare at the city, my smile turned into a frown. The buildings were impressive, yes, but they were entirely fabricated. They lacked as much character as the ones on Britain. Coming from someone who used to live on an island where half the buildings were constructed almost entirely by hand, it just wasn't my style.
The city's rail infrastructure was certainly a lot more built-up compared to literally everywhere else we had visited. It had not one track, not two tracks, not even three tracks, but four parallel tracks that made up the main line through here. Old Blighty rarely had this many parallel mainline tracks.
As an aside, the buildings that weren't skyscrapers were very aesthetically pleasing. They were made of either brick or stone and carried vaguely muted colors. Typically cream, grey, or blue. Throughout the streets, I could see yellow carts racing around carrying whatever passengers had decided to ride them. Most of them stopped and stared right at me as we went by.
Soon enough, we approached the dockyards. The place we would be staying for the next hour. And my word, it was glorious.
"Now THIS is how you design a train yard!" I delightfully exclaimed as the docks came into view.
There was a yard body, a track for storing brake vans and cabooses, a run-around track, auxiliary track, and even engine servicing. Even though such a yard would never have the capacity to support the entire city, I was elated to see such a professional operation.
There weren't many cars in the yard, of course, but the ones that were located within were very American. They ranged from boxcars to hoppers and tank cars. None of which had any markings and wore dark red or black paint. As we slowed to a stop, I spotted an engine parked in the brake van siding. It was, to my surprise, an A4!
Hehe, no, not that A4. As noted by the black paint and golden lettering on the "slopeback" tender, this was a Pennsylvania Railroad Class A4. A four-wheeled switch engine designed to work on the tight street, dockyard and industrial trackage the Pennsylvania Railroad had in its possession. Behind the A4 was a PRR A5. Essentially the same engine, just bigger. It was in fact the biggest 0-4-0 ever built.
I couldn't help but chuckle at the fact that even an American switch engine was just as big as me.
We stopped on a big open track and were greeted with far more fanfare than the other locations we visited. Word had gotten out about us now that we were actually doing the excursion, and many weren't as 'afraid' of me now that they had heard good things about me and the excursion.
We did things the usual way. I greeted myself and Eric, answered questions, told them where I was from and why I was here - without revealing the fact that I was actually from a different world - and all that.
But half an hour into our stay, a very interesting engine came into the yard.
It had immediately caught my eye as it tore around a bend. It was small, silver, looked a lot like Thomas, and pulled a rake of five LMS coaches. They were very old, carrying a cream and red paintjob and being made largely out of wood.
I had been finishing up a story when I gasped, fully recognizing the engine. Its red stripes and silver paintwork glistened in the sunlight, only being outclassed by the bright yellow number 0 on its sidetanks.
"Arthur!?" I exclaimed as the engine rattled by, startling everypony that had been listening. "Someone stop that train! NOW!"
Luna, understanding the urgency in my voice, took off after the train. She caught up to it in short order, entering the cab of the engine to find that no driver or fireman was there. She quickly located the brake handle and slammed it shut, bringing the train to a screeching halt. She then took off the brakes and reversed the train back into my view, stopping it and stepping out of the cab.
"Do you recognize this engine, Edward?" Celestia asked.
"Yes, I most certainly do," I replied.
"What kind of engine even is this?" Twilight asked, already interested in it.
"It's an E2 Tank Engine," I replied. "Build for the London, Brighton and South Coast Railway between 1913 and 1916. It also just so happens to be the ghost of an engine I once knew. One that I could have sworn we had sent away."
I remained silent as I stared at the engine, remembering how it ravaged both companies of the islands. Business had dropped dramatically as our passengers avoided us like the plague, as did our goods clients. We had several encounters with the ghost train, causing a widespread dip in moral. The situation had become unbearable, causing some of us to come up with a situation.
"Edward? Are you alright?" Celestia asked.
"I'm fine. I just... can't believe I'm looking at this engine again."
"Timothy the Ghost Engine... Huh. I like that," Twilight said, stepping out of the engine's cab.
"Timothy?"
"Yeah," she replied, looking at me. "I found a nameplate in the cab. Timothy."
"Sorry to tell you this, but that engine's name isn't Timothy. It's name is Arthur."
"What? But it said-"
"It isn't called Timothy."
"Who's Arthur?" Eric asked.
"I've told you about him, haven't I?"
"No. You haven't."
"...Do you lads want to hear about it?" I asked, looking out among the immediate crowd.
"I suppose so," Celestia said.
"Did this... Arthur, do something wrong?" Fluttershy slowly asked, having been sitting next to Eric. Quite closely, I should add.
"Oh yes, he did."
And this was the story I told.
Arthur was a mixed traffic engine for the LMS, one of the earliest editions when they first came to Sodor. Without question, he was the most boastful engine I have ever known. He was forever prattling on about his spotless record, how he had never once been late. What made it worse is that it was true. Somehow, he always delivered his trucks trains on time and without failure. He was also never shy about calling out those engines who were late, even if they were on his own crew.
Unfortunately, this pride is what led to his downfall.
It was late one night in the winter of 1923 when he had to take an express train. He had suffered a delay and couldn't get out of the station quick enough when he was finally allowed to leave. Eager to make up for lost time, desperate to preserve his spotless record, he tore down the line at a criminally reckless speed. This combined with the poor visibility, the icy rails, and the steep descent of Gordon's Hill, it was small wonder what happens next.
CRASH!
"He... crashed?" Fluttershy asked.
"Came right off the rails," I replied grimly. "He and his coaches rolled almost a hundred yards before stopping. But that wasn't the worst of it."
"What could be worse!?" Rainbow Dash yelled.
"Every single one of his passengers were killed."
The crowd grew eerily silent for several seconds.
"What about Arthur? What happened to him?" Celestia asked.
"He was scrapped," I replied. "The impact killed him instantly and turned his body into a mangled heap of metal that barely resembled an engine."
"..."
I sighed. "And it didn't end there, either."
"...What do you mean it didn't end there?"
"Every year since Arthur's death, at least until 1937, his ghost appeared. Hoping desperately to reach his destination so he and the tormented souls of his victims could finally be at peace. And his ghost," I said, glancing at the E2, "was this exact engine. Coaches and all."
Silence once again followed.
"Now. I'm sure you all would like to know what happened to the ghost, so I might as well tell you."
"Well. That was quite the interesting story," Celestia said. "I speak for all of my little ponies that we are grateful you were willing to share such information."
"It was my pleasure," I replied, eyeing the tank engine.
"I have to commend you engines. To vanquish such a being by such simple means is rather impressive in todays day and age."
"Well, our world doesn't have unicorns or anything of that nature, so we're used to it."
"Now since you have shared with us one of your ghost trains, how about we share with you our ghost train?" Luna asked.
I snapped my gaze to her. "You have a ghost train?"
"Yes. We do," Celestia said, looking at Shining Armor. "Would you like to tell it, Shining Armor? Seeing as you were the one who first encountered it?"
Shining chuckled. "No. I am uhhh, not really the best at storytelling."
Celestia nodded. "Very well. I shall tell it."
And this was the story she told.
It was only a month prior when the event occurred. It was very late and Shining Armor couldn't get to sleep.
As he watched the clock turn over to midnight, he heard an eerie whistle echo throughout the Crystal Empire. Knowing there were no trains scheduled until morning, Shining got out of bed and walked to the balcony to see a train puffing towards the station. He quickly got dressed and ran out toward the station at top speed, getting there just as the train came to a stop.
The engine was big. It had four wheels in the front, six large driving wheels, and pulled a six axle tender. Both the engine and tender wore beautiful red paint with black lines. On the tender sat the golden letters LNWR. Behind the engine were six long coaches carrying a cream and green livery exactly like that of the Elsbridge and Knapford Railway.
While this sounds like quite the premier express train, it didn't exactly seem that way, as layers of dirt and grime covered the train from top to track.
Shining, seeing that nopony was in the cab, decided to investigate the forward coach. To his surprise, the interior was spotless, warm, and extremely comfortable.
But no sooner did he get to the center of the coach, the door slammed shut, and the train began to move. Try as he did to get out, nothing would budge. Not even a teleportation spell helped. All he could do was sit in a seat and listen to the howl of the whistle as the train picked up speed.
It achieved speeds of up to ninety miles per hour and only slowed down when it approached Ponyville. There, Shining stepped off the train to find Twilight. The two agreed to get back on the train and follow it to wherever its destinations were. These destinations went all over Equestria. From Seaddle to Appleloosa, Dodge Junction to Manehattan.
Finally, as it neared six in the morning, the train stopped in Canterlot where Twilight and Shining met Luna, who took great interest in the engine. But before anything could be done, the train set off down the line. Luna tried chasing after it, but the second 6AM arrived, the train tore into a tunnel and simply vanished.
"Since then, every night between midnight and six in the morning, the train roams the rails, taking ponies to their destinations in a comfortable and timely manner. Nothing more. We have since called the train 'The Midnight Special' and told ponies to not fear it. It is perfectly safe and entirely free to ride."
"And it gives ponies a chance to truly appreciate the night," Luna added.
Eric clapped his hooves together. "Well! That is quite the train! I can't wait to see it."
Celestia chuckled. "Yes, it is."
The princess looked at me with enthusiastic eyes, said enthusiasm leaving her as she saw my serious look.
"Uh-... Edward?"
"Did there happen to be a nameplate on the engine?"
"Yes. There was. Did I not mention that?"
"No. You didn't. What was the nameplate?"
"...Afton."
"Afton." I looked at my buffers. "Now there's a name I haven't heard in a very long time..."
Eric looked at me. "Who's Afton?"
"An express engine from the London and North Western Railway. Specifically a Claughton Class built in 1916. One that disappeared while pulling an express of the same name."
"An express of the same name?" Luna asked.
"Every letter. The Midnight Special."
"..."
I sighed and began to tell the story.
I know listening to story after story must be tiring, but this is what I had to deal with whenever we stopped at the towns and cities.
Anyway, Afton. He was, as I said, a Claughton Class 4-6-0 express engine built for the LNWR in 1916. He arrived on Sodor in 1919 when the directors of the Elsbridge and Knapford Railway wanted to trial express runs.
Because they were afraid the runs wouldn't go very well, they decided to lease an engine from the mainland, which just so happened to be Afton. And let me tell you, he was a force to be reckoned with. He was fast, powerful, reliable, and greatly bolstered our reputation in the first couple of days he was present. He was even given a custom six chime steam whistle so everyone knew when he was coming.
This, however, came at a moral cost.
Afton was like any other express engine. He was rude, boastful, despised pulling freight, and was very picky about which coaches he was given. He was at his worst when any member of the Wellsworth and Suddery Railway was nearby.
One summer day, we were running dangerously low on coaches since nearly every one needed maintenance, forcing Thomas to hunt the yards for whatever he could find. He hadn't slept well the previous night and had forgotten to save the few available express coaches for Afton, instead giving them to me. I was already long gone by the time Afton arrived at the platform, so Thomas gave him a rake of four older branchline coaches we had recently bought. Three of these coaches were actually non-faceless sisters. Their names were Summer, Skye, and Sienna.
Afton at first refused to pull the train, rudely commanding Thomas to fetch him some proper coaches after insulting said coaches. Thomas snapped back with, and I quote, "I'm busy. Take them, or leave them!" before quickly puffing back to the yard.
The coaches groaned as Afton begrudgingly backed up to them, calling him rude and improper. This quickly sparked a seething rivalry between them and the engine, which worsened when one of the air hoses came loose, bringing the train to a stop on a bridge. This incident was due to Afton traveling far too fast for the coaches to properly handle.
When his runs were done, he was forced to shunt the coaches himself. The coaches tittered grumpily, complaining about how horrible Afton had been treating them. He blamed the coaches for slamming on the brakes, calling them rotten old antiques. Summer replied saying that it was his fault, to which he told her otherwise.
"It's not my fault you don't know how to pull coaches, you rotten red sausage!" Summer barked.
This insult caused Afton to quickly lose his temper. His boiler pressure shot up, and amid the hiss of his safety valve, there was a BANG! And then a splintering CRUNCH!
Afton hadn't been paying attention when he entered the carriage sidings and had ran the coaches into the buffers hard. The buffers were bent and broken, but were not the most damaged. That honor belonged to the coach behind Afton's tender.
Summer.
She was squashed between him and the second coach, Skye, crushed into a pile of splintered wood and bent metal, killing her instantly. The other coaches shrieked in horror at the fate of their sister. Afton just sniffed indignantly.
"This is what you get for being weak, old antiques," he quietly said. "If only you were proper coaches, this wouldn't have happened."
He watched as the broken coach was loaded onto a flatbed and taken away. The coaches were silent as they too watched the process. When it was done, Afton smirked, and slowly puffed away.
The directors were not happy with Afton's carelessness and neither were the police. The incident landed him in Rail Gate Prison for thirty days, forcing the express services to temporarily close. When he was let out, however, he came back to the island. This was because the directors hoped he had changed for the better. And they were partly right.
While he did take extra care for the trains he pulled, his rude and boastful attitude was still present. The attitude was dialed up to a major 110% when he was given the honor of pulling a brand-new express train called The Midnight Special.
It was a late-night train that offered an express run from Vicarstown to Tidmouth. Having pulled the train a few times before it was assigned to him, I can tell you that a nonstop run under the stars was and still is a very enjoyable experience.
"About time I had a named train of my own to pull," Afton loudly said as he waited on the turntable. "And with proper coaches, no less!"
I groaned and rolled my eyes, having been the only one at the sheds that night.
He was bubbling with excitement as he coupled up to the train. He was so excited that he never once looked back at the rake of coaches he was pulling.
No one noticed the coach closest to him didn't belong to the consist. It was painted cream and green, just like the express. But it was smaller and had no bogies. Just two axles. It was filthier and didn't look like it belonged on such a prestigious train such as the Midnight Special.
The guard blew his whistle and the train set off.
Over Afton's puffing, there was a loud groaning noise that came from the lead coach. It sounded like it hadn't been oiled in a long time.
Soon, the express passed under the signals, and I watched as it was gone in a cloud of steam. I remember seeing the out-of-place coach, but didn't think much of it at the time.
Later, the signalman at Killdane got a call from the signalman at Maron. He wanted to know if the Midnight Special had passed through to check that the system was still operating. The Killdane signalman said he had received a bell from Crovan's Gate a long time ago, but the express hadn't come yet.
Checking his watch, he saw that the express was running about half an hour late. Just before he could hang up the phone to call Crovan's Gate to send a work train to check the line, there was a knock at his door. He opened it to see the Midnight Special's guard standing there, panting heavily.
"Heh-, Have you seen our engine?" he asked.
"What engine?" the signalman asked. "No engine has passed by my box for hours!"
The guard then went pale. "That... That's not possible! You must be mistaken! I've just come from the Midnight Special and I haven't seen our engine anywhere!"
"I swear on me mother's head no train passed by the box! I would have seen it! Come on man, you're speaking all kinds of rubbish!"
"I'm not! Our entire train is missing its engine! It's like It's disappeared into thin air!"
"Come on mate," the signalman said, inviting him in. "Have a cuppa tea and explain what you're tryin' to say."
I was soon dispatched with a works train. I found the six express coaches from the Special sitting neatly on the mainline and the irate passengers.
From passenger testimony, they said that one minute the train was cruising along smoothly, then after the tunnel, the train went slower and slower until the coaches ground to a halt. When they looked out the window to see what the problem was, they saw that there was no engine at the front.
Workmen investigated the coaches for damage, but none was found. The coupling on the lead coach was intact. While I pulled the train back to the station, the workmen searched up the line. Perhaps Afton had derailed somewhere before Killdane and the guard just missed it.
However, nothing.
No trace of an engine or even an accident could be found.
Afton's crew were found at Crovan's Gate the next morning asleep on a bench by a cleaner making the rounds before the first service of the day. When asked how they got there, they had no memory of what happened after they entered the tunnel. Just that one minute they were entering the tunnel, and the next they were awake on the platform.
A massive search was held to look for Afton. Every inch of the main line was checked, as was every inch of the branch lines. But nothing could be found.
The Midnight Special was discontinued indefinitely as the more superstitious passengers refused to ride the express after midnight, worried that if a whole engine could vanish, then why not a whole train of passengers?
The mystery deepened when many of the passengers expressed concern for those who might have gotten in the first coach. The investigators noted that all the coaches were still on the train, but the passengers were insistent that a coach was missing from the express.
"A small coach! Just behind the engine!"
Station staff, porters, and the crew of the engine who assembled the train were just as adamant that they had gathered the rake of six express coaches. No more, no less. After extensive investigations, relief was brought to the passengers when it was found that everyone who had bought a ticket for the Midnight Special was accounted for.
But the mystery remained.
What happened to the engine and the alleged coach? How could an engine's crew wake up at a station with no memory of how they had gotten there?
To this day, the file remains in the Vicarstown Police files...
...as unsolved.
"And that is the end of the story as the wider public knows. Though there have been tales of engines seeing Afton puffing along the line in the distance with a single coach behind him. But no one at the time was sure if what they saw was real or not," I finished.
I looked around at the princesses and the crowd, watching some of them shake with fear. My frames felt as cold as ice as I recalled what happened afterward.
"Heed my warning," I said, putting on a colder voice. "For something even as humble as a coach does not take kindly to being mistreated. They have their ways of getting revenge. And a simple matter such as death does not offer protection from retribution."
"W-Why do you say it like that?" Twilight asked.
"Because those were the exact words from him to me," I replied in my normal voice.
"Wait, how and when would he have told you that?"
I let out a heavy sigh. "I never believed in ghosts until the incident with Arthur's ghost in 37'. In 1940, I was sitting by myself in a shed when Afton reversed in, carrying that same coach. He told me that he was allowed to rest, and that he wanted to talk about the incident. We talked by ourselves for what felt like hours before the coach let out a large groan."
"That coach," I continued, "was the ghost of Summer. Hell-bent on revenge for killing her. She never spoke, and I never tried speaking with her, knowing it would be futile to do so. She only creaked and groaned, telling Afton that it was time to get moving. 'We must keep time, you know?' was the last thing Afton said to me before hissing steam and pulling out of the sidings. 'Yes... Yes we do,' was my reply. Soon, they vanished beyond the gloom of the yard lights..."
I paused.
"...and was gone."
I stayed silent, giving everypony time to think about the story. The only sounds present were the hissing of both mine and Sierra #3's steam, and the crashing of the ocean waves.
"Well..." Celestia finally said after a moment, breaking the silence. "That... certainly expands our knowledge of the ghost train."
"Yes. It... does," Luna confirmed.
"Does this mean that Afton is... alive?" Twilight asked.
"I don't know," I replied. "Perhaps Summer was finished tormenting him and decided to send him here as a faceless engine. Unable to do anything to express himself. Only able to run a train to whatever destination is needed."
"Edward... stop telling ghost stories like that," Eric said. "This is just... ugh."
I sighed. "Well, we've stayed her long enough. It is time for us to advance to the next city. Those who are staying on the excursion, please start boarding now. Those who are not, please give the ticket vendor your tickets. And to those who would like to ride, go to the ticket vendor to see if there are enough available spots for you and whoever you would like to bring."
"Edward, I was meant to say that," Celestia said.
"I know," I replied.
"Wait, Edward, what are we meant to do with... Arthur?" Luna asked, gesturing to the tank engine.
"If that's just a normal engine, use it for what it was designed. For shunting and short freight services."
The rest of the excursion went off without a hitch, though it was soured by what I had brought to light. We went to the neighboring city and town of Baltimare and Hollow Shades respectively. After that, we made one final trip back to Canterlot. There, in the light of the setting sun, the excursion was concluded. Everyone went home, delighted at how well the excursion went, and finally got some rest.
After that, well, not much happened for a while. Twilight had told us that she had begun working on the spell that would bring us home, Luna made arrangements for the new railway system, and Earl Badhurst - the GWR Castle Class - was put to work.
The most notable thing that occured was when we had to move N&W 1218 and 2156 to Canterlot. This was quite the undertaking as every available engine - besides the Friendship Express and the Crystal Express - was needed to get the behemoths up the mountain. Since both weighed close to five hundred tons, getting them up was hard. After learning that their combined weight was close to a thousand tons, I had to ask a question I haven't gotten an answer for, even to this day, "How in blazes did I alone pull the two out of that mine?"
Though it was slow getting them to Canterlot, we arrived without anything going wrong. In hindsight, we really should have just taken the two up the mountain one by one.
But when those two engines were refurbished and let out onto the unsuspecting rails, they were forces to be reckoned with. By far the best engines I had ever seen up to that point. Fast, powerful, reliable, everything under the sun. They could take whatever train you coupled behind them with ease. 1218 would even see service in passenger runs, running at speeds upwards of 80 miles per hour. They conquered each and every mountain that was thrown at them with style and speed to match.
The two were so good that Lode Star and Earl of Bathurst were entirely obsolete in the goods industry. The two were put on passenger duties, which they ran very well, regularly achieving speeds of 90 miles per hour. They would have gone faster, but they didn't for the simple fact that drivers and firemares alike were too scared to achieve higher speeds.
Major development occurred in Manehattan and Phillydelphia, the latter of which was located between the former and Baltimare. Manehattan built tracks through its streets, and both it and Philly built a line between the two cities, providing much-needed rail access.
The Pennsylvania A4 and A5 engines were perfectly suited for the tight tram-like trackage the "Manehattan and Phillydelphia Railroad" had. They made short work of the meager lot of goods that had to be shipped to and from each city.
'Timothy', as the silver E2 tank engine was called, also became part of this line, providing shunting and passenger services between the cities. It did prove problematic in the sense that its water tanks were inadequate - as was normal for E2 tank engines - but they managed. Overall, the MPRR was a great success.
I relegated myself to local work around central Equestria, much to the dismay of the princesses. The towns I typically visited were Canterlot, Ponyville, Appleloosa, Dodge City, Salt Lick City, and Detrot. I would do whatever needed doing, whether it be goods work or passenger runs. We even got a fire-stallion by the name of Brimstone Shovel. I won't go into detail here, but he was a very good chap to work with. A fair bit younger than Eric at twenty six years old, but he was eager to work and really knew his way with a shovel.
For the next few weeks, we had it going pretty good for ourselves.
But, I'm sorry to say, this peacetime would be short-lived, as Equestria would soon be secretly attacked by somepony I'm sure you all know.
And by somepony, I really mean some-ling.