The young caboose watched, as the other trainlets played, near the
roundhouse. All he could think about was how much he hated them. They were
all kind to him, and tried to get him to come and play, but he wouldn't. He
only wanted them to stay away from him. He didn't want to be near them.
Unless one looked at his past, they would see no reason at all, for the eight-year-old caboose to feel so hateful, toward the other trainlets. There was no reason, at all. But, if they looked closer, and found out about his past, they'd find that the other trainlets had something that he desperately wanted: A family.
Chatterbox, or CB, as he was always called had been born a little over eight years ago. His mother had died, just after. His father had been so distraught that he's rolled off a cliff. CB had been raised by steam locomotive, Poppa, and a sleeping car, Belle. Their son, Rusty, would have been like an older brother, had the caboose allowed himself to get close to the ten-year-old steam locomotive.
CB preferred being left alone, however. The other children, especially Rusty and some of the freight, were very kind to him, but he wouldn't let himself see that they were being friendly, not pitying him. He wasn't happy, not at all. Poppa and Belle had promised that he'd never want for anything, as long as they lived. They couldn't however, stop him from wanting a family.
"Hey, caboose!"
CB jerked. He hated being called "caboose". It made him so angry, made him want to hurt the person calling him that. He turned, to find Greaseball, a diesel engine two years older than Rusty, staring down at him.
"Who, me?"
"Yeah, you, caboose! Come on, I need you to help me with training."
"Yeah, right… I'm too young…"
Greaseball grabbed the caboose's arm, and dragged him along. CB struggled, kicking and screaming. He knew what was going to happen. Greaseball and his gang were going to beat him up, again. He called out, as he saw Poppa rolling towards home, in the distance. Greaseball and the other diesels saw Poppa turn, and rush toward them. They weren't, however, about to let CB off the hook that easily. By the time Poppa was close enough to make them turn tail and run, the small caboose was covered with bruises and cuts. His helmet was cracked, and his ankle hurt him terribly, being sprained, at the very least. Poppa knelt next to him, and Rusty and Pearl rushed up. Pearl was eight, CB's age. Another coach, Dinah, rolled up, after seeing Greaseball was gone. She took one look at CB, and started to cry.
"I told them not to, Poppa, I did! They wouldn't listen!" she whimpered. "They wouldn't listen!"
"Pearl, take Dinah home, dearie." Poppa said. "Rusty, go tell Belle what happened. Tell her I'm taking CB to be repaired."
"Yes, Poppa."
The small group split up, and Poppa carefully lifted the caboose off the ground. CB yelped in pain, as his ankle brushed against a nearby railing.
"Sorry, kiddo. Just hang on, we'll have you good as new, in no time."
Poppa shook his head, as the caboose gave him a sullen glare. The trainlet had no sense of pain, apparently, for Poppa knew most his age would be wailing, with damages such as the diesels had inflicted on him. The steam locomotive knew the caboose was tough, but couldn't understand why the caboose wouldn't fight for himself, or at least defend himself, somehow. He was upset, because he didn't want the tiny caboose to get seriously hurt, or even worse, someday. He'd promised to raise the trainlet as best he could, and he didn't want to see CB in pain.
"Poppa, what did I do to Greaseball, anyway?"
"Greaseball's a bully, kiddo."
"Then I'll be a bully, too."
"CB, that would hurt Belle and I a lot."
"Why?"
"Because Belle, Rusty, and I are your family. We don't like bullies."
CB began to struggle, and refused to stop, until Poppa had set him on his wheels.
"You're not my family! My family is dead!"
"CB…"
"No! I can do just fine, without you! I'll show you! I'll show you ALL!
The caboose turned and rushed off, as fast as he could, with his injured leg. Poppa pursued. The locomotive was quicker, but CB knew of every hiding place in the area. Poppa searched for an hour, before meeting up with Belle. The sleeping car had a worried look on her face.
"Where's CB?"
"He ran off."
Belle sighed.
"Crazy kid… Don't worry, he's done this, before. He'll be back for dinner."
Poppa shook his head.
"I hope so, Belle. He was pretty angry…"
CB, however, had no intention of returning home. He was headed for open tracks. He wanted to get as far away from home as possible. He met up with a young steam locomotive, and they both realized they were headed the same way. The steam engine decided to let CB come with him. The steamer was friendly, enough, but CB didn't like him. So, he decided he wanted to be rid of his new friend.
Within a few days, they came to a bridge. CB knew he was supposed to be careful, but he put on his brakes. He didn't know why, but he did. He wanted to be rid of his friend, and he figured if he did the wrong thing, at the wrong time, the engine would leave.
"CB, why are you putting on the brakes? CB! Take off the brakes!"
CB was frightened, and he did so. What he didn't expect was that the sudden release of the brakes would make the locomotive lose control. The caboose uncoupled, only to watch, terrified, as the locomotive fell off the bridge. CB looked down, and saw the locomotive lying in the water, beneath the bridge. He didn't feel remorse, and it scared him. He felt power. He could make other's fear him! He could hurt them! It felt wonderful! It was a rush! He was powerful! He was feared! He was… He was hungry!
CB managed to get some food, and shelter, in a nearby yard, and hoped to stay there, at least for a few days. He felt more at home, there. He felt comfortable enough to go get some food with the resident trains, the next day. He met up with an older caboose, and sat next to him.
"Hey, kid. You have a name?"
"CB."
"That stand for something?"
"No."
"Your parents around?"
"They're dead. Have been for eight years."
"Oh. What were their names?"
"Charlie and Claire."
"Oh. I knew them."
CB looked up. This caboose knew his parents? Perhaps he'd stay here, after all.
"What's your name?" the little red caboose asked.
"Chris. My name's Chris."
CB smiled. He liked this caboose.
Unless one looked at his past, they would see no reason at all, for the eight-year-old caboose to feel so hateful, toward the other trainlets. There was no reason, at all. But, if they looked closer, and found out about his past, they'd find that the other trainlets had something that he desperately wanted: A family.
Chatterbox, or CB, as he was always called had been born a little over eight years ago. His mother had died, just after. His father had been so distraught that he's rolled off a cliff. CB had been raised by steam locomotive, Poppa, and a sleeping car, Belle. Their son, Rusty, would have been like an older brother, had the caboose allowed himself to get close to the ten-year-old steam locomotive.
CB preferred being left alone, however. The other children, especially Rusty and some of the freight, were very kind to him, but he wouldn't let himself see that they were being friendly, not pitying him. He wasn't happy, not at all. Poppa and Belle had promised that he'd never want for anything, as long as they lived. They couldn't however, stop him from wanting a family.
"Hey, caboose!"
CB jerked. He hated being called "caboose". It made him so angry, made him want to hurt the person calling him that. He turned, to find Greaseball, a diesel engine two years older than Rusty, staring down at him.
"Who, me?"
"Yeah, you, caboose! Come on, I need you to help me with training."
"Yeah, right… I'm too young…"
Greaseball grabbed the caboose's arm, and dragged him along. CB struggled, kicking and screaming. He knew what was going to happen. Greaseball and his gang were going to beat him up, again. He called out, as he saw Poppa rolling towards home, in the distance. Greaseball and the other diesels saw Poppa turn, and rush toward them. They weren't, however, about to let CB off the hook that easily. By the time Poppa was close enough to make them turn tail and run, the small caboose was covered with bruises and cuts. His helmet was cracked, and his ankle hurt him terribly, being sprained, at the very least. Poppa knelt next to him, and Rusty and Pearl rushed up. Pearl was eight, CB's age. Another coach, Dinah, rolled up, after seeing Greaseball was gone. She took one look at CB, and started to cry.
"I told them not to, Poppa, I did! They wouldn't listen!" she whimpered. "They wouldn't listen!"
"Pearl, take Dinah home, dearie." Poppa said. "Rusty, go tell Belle what happened. Tell her I'm taking CB to be repaired."
"Yes, Poppa."
The small group split up, and Poppa carefully lifted the caboose off the ground. CB yelped in pain, as his ankle brushed against a nearby railing.
"Sorry, kiddo. Just hang on, we'll have you good as new, in no time."
Poppa shook his head, as the caboose gave him a sullen glare. The trainlet had no sense of pain, apparently, for Poppa knew most his age would be wailing, with damages such as the diesels had inflicted on him. The steam locomotive knew the caboose was tough, but couldn't understand why the caboose wouldn't fight for himself, or at least defend himself, somehow. He was upset, because he didn't want the tiny caboose to get seriously hurt, or even worse, someday. He'd promised to raise the trainlet as best he could, and he didn't want to see CB in pain.
"Poppa, what did I do to Greaseball, anyway?"
"Greaseball's a bully, kiddo."
"Then I'll be a bully, too."
"CB, that would hurt Belle and I a lot."
"Why?"
"Because Belle, Rusty, and I are your family. We don't like bullies."
CB began to struggle, and refused to stop, until Poppa had set him on his wheels.
"You're not my family! My family is dead!"
"CB…"
"No! I can do just fine, without you! I'll show you! I'll show you ALL!
The caboose turned and rushed off, as fast as he could, with his injured leg. Poppa pursued. The locomotive was quicker, but CB knew of every hiding place in the area. Poppa searched for an hour, before meeting up with Belle. The sleeping car had a worried look on her face.
"Where's CB?"
"He ran off."
Belle sighed.
"Crazy kid… Don't worry, he's done this, before. He'll be back for dinner."
Poppa shook his head.
"I hope so, Belle. He was pretty angry…"
CB, however, had no intention of returning home. He was headed for open tracks. He wanted to get as far away from home as possible. He met up with a young steam locomotive, and they both realized they were headed the same way. The steam engine decided to let CB come with him. The steamer was friendly, enough, but CB didn't like him. So, he decided he wanted to be rid of his new friend.
Within a few days, they came to a bridge. CB knew he was supposed to be careful, but he put on his brakes. He didn't know why, but he did. He wanted to be rid of his friend, and he figured if he did the wrong thing, at the wrong time, the engine would leave.
"CB, why are you putting on the brakes? CB! Take off the brakes!"
CB was frightened, and he did so. What he didn't expect was that the sudden release of the brakes would make the locomotive lose control. The caboose uncoupled, only to watch, terrified, as the locomotive fell off the bridge. CB looked down, and saw the locomotive lying in the water, beneath the bridge. He didn't feel remorse, and it scared him. He felt power. He could make other's fear him! He could hurt them! It felt wonderful! It was a rush! He was powerful! He was feared! He was… He was hungry!
CB managed to get some food, and shelter, in a nearby yard, and hoped to stay there, at least for a few days. He felt more at home, there. He felt comfortable enough to go get some food with the resident trains, the next day. He met up with an older caboose, and sat next to him.
"Hey, kid. You have a name?"
"CB."
"That stand for something?"
"No."
"Your parents around?"
"They're dead. Have been for eight years."
"Oh. What were their names?"
"Charlie and Claire."
"Oh. I knew them."
CB looked up. This caboose knew his parents? Perhaps he'd stay here, after all.
"What's your name?" the little red caboose asked.
"Chris. My name's Chris."
CB smiled. He liked this caboose.
