Duncan's whistle sounded in the darkness as he steadily huffed down the line, having just made his last slate delivery of the night. The mists were slowly rising around the iron bridge, and the chasm below made the whistle echo and bounce, sounding like the noise was coming from the very bottom. Duncan shivered as he crossed the Old Iron Bridge, remembering the story Rusty had once told him to give him a nasty fright.
"It was a cold, misty night when the accident happened. A little engine was heading down the line, preparing to cross the old iron bridge. But, as he crossed, a rail suddenly buckled and snapped! It sent the little engine plunging down into the dark depths below! The little engine passed; he couldn't have survived a fall from that height. Now, this would have been a normal, although tragic, accident, if it hadn't been for a few things.
"The body of the little engine was never recovered, some say it washed up on a riverbank and was stripped for parts by robbers, others say it simply vanished the instant it hit the muddy waters. A few pieces of the little engine were recovered, such as his whistle and his nameplate, but mysterious circumstances destroyed one of them. According to legend, the nameplate shook violently on the wall it had been hung on, and thrust itself into the blazing fire! Turning the flames into a bright glowing blue! The whistle, on the other hand, had been purchased by a railway enthusiast, who became terrified of it. He claimed that it was cursed, and would blow itself every night, at the time of the accident. Finally, on the thirteenth day, after letting off a mighty blast, he was sick of the horrible thing and sold it to the scrapyard on the other end of the island, where it reportedly goes off when engines pass under it.
"Even to this day, rumors go around, and many a workman will tell you, that on the day of the accident, when the moon is full, they can just faintly see the little engine, trying to make it home, but he never reaches the other side."
Duncan groaned and tried to forget about his memory. To this day he still couldn't believe Rusty had come up with such a detailed story simply to frighten him for teasing Peter Sam. Still though, for some reason, the story always made Duncan feel like he was being…watched, even though he knew it wasn't true. Duncan scoffed.
"Stupid story. Stupid Rusty! Tryin' t' spook meh with some silly tale he made up to sound scary! Not to me! Not to me!" Duncan said to himself. Suddenly, and very, very faintly, Duncan thought he heard laughter whisper in the wind. He stopped dead in his tracks and listened again. He was barely able to hear it, but there was certainly a distinctive laughing sound drifting through the breeze.
Duncan was about to forget about it and puff on simply believing it to be some children staying up late, when he heard a puffing sound that didn't sound like any of the engines that he knew.
Duncan gulped, "Just a story, just a story, no such thing as ghosts, no engine in an accident," He mumbled to himself trying to calm his nerves.
"Oh, really?" A voice laughed. Duncan jumped. "Well, I guess you've never heard the phrase, 'every story stems from some sort of truth', have you?" The outline of an engine slowly appeared, and Duncan saw who the voice belonged too. In front of him sat a young engine, a ghastly gray color, almost translucent, with a large scar running over his left eye. His whistle was nowhere to be seen and there was a pale rectangle on his side where a nameplate used to be. Duncan felt the color slowly drain from his face as he began to make the connection.
"Y-You're, You're the—" No! Duncan refused to believe that! He was seeing things, surely, he was seeing things! "Who are you?! What do you want!?" Duncan demanded to know.
The engine smiled softly and slowly, but, it wasn't a smile.
It was a smirk.
"My name is Franklin," He said. "But you can call me your worst nightmare because I'm here to have you understand exactly the kind of pain I felt,"
Before Duncan could speak, Franklin began to laugh, quiet and menacing.
"Tell me, do you know what it feels like to drown?" Franklin asked through the laughing, which Duncan noticed, didn't sound like Franklin was actually amused. Duncan slowly shook 'no' on his chassis.
"Well, it's like suffocating, but, slower. You keep fighting and fighting until you can't fight anymore. Another good comparison would be that—" Franklin said. Duncan suddenly felt his ability to breathe suddenly stop, every time he gasped for air, no breath came. "-All your air is suddenly CUT OFF." Duncan was choking, suffocating, drowning.
Franklin was smiling as he watched Duncan suffer. While Duncan continued to try and fight, Franklin began speaking.
"You know the funny thing about ghosts? We're stronger the closer we are to the place of our death. Imagine that. The very thing that killed us in the first place is what gives us more power. The farther away we are, the weaker we become. Either way, we end up back at our place of death at some point." Franklin said. He paused for a moment.
"You know, it's odd seeing you suffer," Franklin remarked. "It reminds me of some quite…unfavorable memories that I'd rather forget about, mainly about my death. But on the other, I can see someone else feel the exact same thing that I did. Losing your friends, your railway, your LIFE."
Duncan was still struggling to breathe, with every failed attempt to breathe, Duncan could feel his life beginning to drain away. Duncan fought harder, refusing to slip away. Just as he was about to 'stop fighting', a whistle sounded in the distance. It was Sir Handel's whistle.
"Duncan? What's taking so long? Everyone at the sheds is wondering where you've gotten too! You were supposed to be back ages ago!" Sir Handel cried. Sir Handel hadn't yet come around the bend and hadn't seen Franklin yet. Franklin sent Duncan a glare, and the choking sensation began to die down.
"You get out of it this time, Duncan, but be warned," He said. "I know all about your little friends. And I'll be paying them a visit sooner than you think." Franklin disappeared, and Duncan finally felt the ability to breathe return. He gasped for air, coughing and choking as he did so.
Sir Handel came around the bend and looked at Duncan with considerable concern in his eyes.
"Duncan? You alright?" He asked, noting Duncan's pale face and wide eyes. "You look like you've just seen a ghost!" Duncan gulped and slowly looked up at Sir Handel.
"I-I just did…" He slowly said.
