—"Who could this be?", thought Thomas
As his engine came up in uproar and the hazy flames of his heartbeat contempted the pure night, a thought crossed him. It was but a mere slick of fear and insecurity unknown to him, terror.
Thomas did not know this, but this would be the day his life would change, forever.
Soft splashes that seemed endless came from one of the overlapping ferry-trails, each swiverling drop of the sticky, pungent fluid gluing into the dark, sootless ground.
A slow march, the sound of an engine.
Mechanical parts moving slowly, encompassing the night.
The stars above seemed unnoted to the undeemingly peculiar things that were about to happen.
A minute that felt like an hour went by, Thomas, firmly clutched to his rail by the security measures he had installed himself, remained silent. While in the dark veils of the night, a sound could be heard firmly pressing onward, steadily approaching him.
Thomas could not hold his fear anymore, it was devouring him like flames aloof dry leaves.
He let go a soundless shout into the night, but nothing emanated from his shriveling mouth. The stranger avanced now at an alarming rate, his mechanical gears and wheels chiming across the moistured rails, into the lonely night.
Tooot
Thomas could feel him closer, oh ever so closer! His combustion engine became alit in desperation, a last measure of survival, a plea for help. But there was no going back, for the stranger was already behind him.
Suddendly the unbeknownst wagon extended his connector rail, which shone when struck by the pale moonlight.
For the first time in that dark, lonely summer night, Thomas' shout for mercy was audible, his words echoed into the void of concealed darkness that was the train station, empty.
Minutes, hours, passed as Thomas yelled for mercy, bickering drops of sweat palpating his dry, tired skin. The stranger had an unnerving strenght, a drive without end, bulging Thomas' incessantly.
In dune of his action, the stranger found himself at a crossroad, it was dawn.
Would he continue his perverted ways and let go of all his lubricant fluid inside Thomas' hot, steamy locomotive? Or would he drive off, hidden by the veil of the night.
Alas, it was too late to retrocede, and with each minute that passed, the sounds of morning and conjugational despair became more apparent.
But the stranger had won, for Thomas was beyond submissive in his defeat. With one last, enormous and gibbering thud, the unknown wagon had let go all of his lubricative fluids free inside Thomas' pure, chaste cart. As swiftly as he came, this stranger left, but without first letting Thomas know, this was just the beginning.
The doors of the train station opened, and Thomas was serviced by his habitual conductor.
—"It seems this train has an oil leak" said the man.
and so he serviced Thomas, and the same night the locomotive was visited again. So goes the tale of Thomas the Tank Engine, and how he lived the rest of his miserable life.
TOOT
