Diesella was uneasy. As she glided silently through the moonlit yard, wary as ever, something didn't seem right. It was as if there was an unspoken doom hanging in the air. She halted by the old bridge, scanning the area, but there was no-one but her there.
She moved slowly to the middle of the bridge, and leant on the side, staring down at the water.
Diesella loved the night, for the simple reason that no-one else was about. Or rather, there was rarely anyone else about. Admittedly, the other night she'd had a close call. Two diesels had entered the main yard; she'd been fast enough to hide in time but it'd really rattled her. It may have seemed weird, her wanting to hide from others, but there was a very good reason for it.
You see, Diesella was, in effect, a ghost. Ten years ago, she'd been a champion racer. One day, she'd challenged a newcomer - a Union Pacific diesel, called Greaseball. Unfortunately for her, he'd decided to play dirty. And her partner for that race had been in on the plan. Red Caboose, he was called, and though she knew his loyalties were shaky, she'd decided to trust him. It was rumoured that if you were lucky, he could be a very good race partner.
Anyway, long story short, she was wrecked as they went over a bridge. Wrecked beyond repair, some said. But she was so stubborn, she somehow managed to walk away that day. But she'd never be the same. She found she was more or less a ghost. The other trains avoided her and she went from popularity to solitude.
Now, she avoided other trains at all costs. Staring down into the water, she became lost in her memories, and didn't notice the pair of eyes watching from a distance…