When the sun had fully set, and the moon was but a sliver of silver light in the sky darker than ink, Skarloey was puffing down the line. He was muttering and ranting to himself in a hushed tone, not really caring where he wound up going.
"Nonsense, nonsense, nonsense! Ghosts, haunted bridges, chokings, all of it!" Skarloey huffed to himself. "They're trying to trick me, I just know it. 'There's a ghost, Skarloey!' They say. 'It tried to choke me, Skarloey!' All of it utter tish-tosh! I don't know what they are playing at but it's starting to get on my nerves at this point!"
The place he ending up in turned out to be the iron bridge. Skarloey didn't notice that he had arrived at the old iron bridge until he was already on it. He sighed and rolled his eyes. He heard faint puffing coming from behind him.
"That isn't going to work Duncan." No reply came. "Sir Handel? Peter Sam? Luke?" Still no response. "D-Duke? Rusty? Rh-Rheneas?" Just as Skarloey was about to hurry ahead, an ear-splitting, bone-chilling cackle came from right behind him.
"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Skarloey nearly leapt off the rails in fright, and looked around frantically.
"Who is that?! Reveal yourself!" Skarloey cried.
"You sure you want that, old-timer?" A voice taunted him.
"On with it!"
"Your choice," The voice laughed. "Don't say I didn't try and warn you!"
With a swirl of cold, dark mist, something was forming. Skarloey looked on in horror as Franklin materialized from the fog.
"I did try to warn you," He laughed, finding the look of terror on Skarloey's face amusing.
"No, no, no, no, no, no," Skarloey breathed. He looked all over the engine. No nameplate. No whistle. Number plate blank. And a large, gashing scar running over his left eye, going down to his left cheek. "You're…you are…" Skarloey shook his chassis slowly, trying to process everything. "Who are you?"
"Oh, poor old Skarloey. I think you know exactly who I am. Don't you?" Franklin said, laughing slowly and quietly. "Don't play dumb."
Skarloey didn't want to believe it, he truly didn't. But he knew there wasn't any other explanation for it.
"You're Franklin…" He finally admitted. "B-But-But you're just a-just an old myth!" Skarloey cried. Franklin's expression was an odd one. Most of his expression seemed angry and insulted, but in his eyes, for just a moment, pain and sadness flashed.
"Oh. A myth, huh? That's what you think I am? I that all anyone thinks I am?!" Franklin growled, his voice slowly increasing in volume and intensity. "You think I don't know that nobody still remembers me?! You think I'm too STUPID to realize that, don't you!?"
"N-No! That's not what I was—"
Franklin didn't care for Skarloey's explanations.
"A myth! A MYTH! THAT'S ALL I AM, HUH?! Well, could a myth do THIS?!"
Skarloey felt an immense pressure on his boiler. A very uncomfortable pressure.
"O-Ow!" Skarloey winced. "Stop that!"
"COULD A MYTH DO THIS?"
The pressure increased and began to form a deep indent.
"OW! Stop it!" Skarloey cried. "That hurts!" But it didn't stop, and more and more dents were forming on Skarloey's boiler, causing small tears to form in his eyes.
"COULD A MYTH POSSIBLY CRUSH. YOUR. BOILER?! HUH?! COULD A MYTH DO THAT?!" Franklin was screaming, feeling no need to hold back his emotions anymore.
Skarloey heard metal creak as more and more deep dents formed.
"AHH! STOP THAT! PLEASE! YOU'RE HURTING ME!" Skarloey begged.
His voice shaking with emotion, Franklin snapped.
"Your little friends can't save you now!" Franklin screeched.
"I think we can!" Shouted a voice. Peter Sam stood heroically at the end of the bridge, looking Franklin down the same way a bull looks at a matador. "CHARGE!" He cried, surging forwards toward Franklin at top speed. Peter Sam went right through Franklin as if he were air.
Franklin rolled his eyes, "Hey, moron, I'm a ghost."
"Forgot that." Peter Sam mumbled, blushing just a bit at his forgetfulness. "But we aren't afraid of you anymore, Franklin!"
"We?" Franklin asked.
The whole narrow-gauge fleet, haunted or not haunted, all came out of hiding.
"Stand down, Franklin!"
"We've got you surrounded!"
"Don't do anything rash!"
"We aren't afraid of you any longer!" Luke cried. Franklin looked at them all for a moment, his eyes dull. Then, he laughed darkly.
"Not afraid…?" He asked, chuckling. "Oh, you should be." He said ominously. He closed his eyes tightly, and then, they snapped open. His eyes were glowing bright white.
Everyone jumped as Luke let out a yelp of pain, and soon began to feel it themselves. Dents were now forming on their boilers as well. Not only that, but the engines were feeling a searing heat spreading across their buffer-beams as small burns began to appear on them. Long white scratches streaked and striped their smokeboxes. They were all letting out hisses of pain as Franklin cackled maniacally.
