What happens to your soul when you die? Cultures and societies all around the world have conceived myriad answers to that immortal question. Some say that it starts anew through reincarnation, while others say that it vanishes into the ether. But in Inkwell Isle, after you passed away and your soul left your body, you boarded the Phantom Express. The railway was responsible for carrying souls to their eternal resting place, be it heaven, hell or purgatory.
And oh, boy, what a ride it was. The workers on the Phantom Express were some of the freakiest, most ghoulish beings you could imagine. The ticket man was a blue specter with two gaping holes where his eyes should be, and two ghastly eyeballs where his palms should be. After you boarded, a fifteen-foot skeleton would help put away your baggage. The conductors were long-necked, fanged creatures with lollipop-shaped heads, who kept the train running by charging it with lightning they shot out of their mouths. And the head of the train - which bore two eyes and a wicked grin - would not chug along the tracks like an ordinary train. It perched itself on long, spindly legs, and it would gallop across the tracks like a horse. It was quite a wondrous, frightening sight to behold, one that few of its passengers forgot. For generations, the Phantom Express took millions of souls on frightening, hair-raising rides through the netherworld.
Then, at the turn of the century, everything changed. After the invention of the airplane, several spirits banded together to found Phantom Airlines. It was an afterlife transit service that was faster than rail travel and completely unrestricted by terrain. The Phantom Express knew that their gig would be in trouble if the airline was allowed to challenge them.
So one day, when the train was making its daily stop in Hell, the blind specter took the opportunity to make a deal with the one man who could help them. He found the Devil grabbing passengers off of the train and tossing them into the eternal flames.
"Right on time," he said. "Excellent work, as always."
"Thanks. Hey, listen, you know that new Phantom Airline that just opened up? You heard about that, right?"
The Devil stopped what he was doing and turned around to face the specter. "Yes, I have. What of it?"
"Well, see, we're kinda worried that they're gonna replace us as the new afterlife transit service," said the specter, wringing his ethereal hands. "I don't ask for much, but without this gig, I'd have nothin'. Could you work your magic and, you know, take care of 'em for us?"
As soon as he heard the request, the Devil got a mischievous twinkle in his eye - which would have aroused the blind specter's suspicion if he could actually see it. "That could be arranged," he said. "You do know what I'm going to ask for in return, don't you?"
"Yeah, yeah, my soul," the specter said with a sigh.
"Oh, not just yours. The baggage man, the conductors, the head of the train itself. Everyone on the Phantom Express will belong to me."
The blind specter's wispy blue body went rigid. "A-all of us?!"
"Every single one of you. Every night, after making your daily rounds, you will come back to Hell and stay here until your next shift. And you will serve me in whatever manner I see fit, when you're not on the clock."
The specter shuddered at the thought. For a moment, he considered going back into the train and talking things over with his colleagues. This proved to be unnecessary, however, as the others had been listening in on the conversation.
"Just take the deal," said the giant skeleton, bowing his enormous head in defeat. "We don't have a choice."
The Devil snapped his fingers, producing a floating contract outlining the terms he just laid out. With a heavy heart, the skeleton reached out of the train and signed it.
"Always a pleasure doing business with you," said the Devil as he snapped his fingers again. A portal opened in front of the phantoms, showing them exactly what started happening to Phantom Airlines after he snapped. To their horror, the ghostly airport was burning to the ground, while the screaming workers were trying in vein to put it out. The fire soon spread to them, and their bodies began to burn to a crisp. They shrieked in agony as their spectral bodies disintegrated, bit by bit, until nothing was left behind. Although the blind specter couldn't see what was happening, the haunting screams and crackling flames put a clear enough image in his head. The Devil, in typical fashion, took great pleasure in their mortified reactions.
"What are you doing?!" demanded the head of the train.
"Taking care of them, just as you asked," the Devil said flatly.
"We didn't mean kill them!" cried the blind specter.
"Then I suppose you should have been more specific. But look on the bright side; now you don't have to worry about being out of work. Ever."
He threw back his head and cackled, before disappearing in a cloud of red smoke. With nothing left to be done, the Phantom Express chugged out of the station, nauseous with guilt for what they did and dreading their future of eternal servitude.