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Weirdo_with_A_Quill

@weirdowithaquill

This is where the fanfic author in me thrives. Aged 18+, Aussie, living my best life. Pronouns unnecessary, headcanons welcomed.
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Traintober 2023: Day 31 - Lights Out

Don't Let the Lights Go Out at Crovan's Gate:

The day had ended, and all the engines of the Skarloey Railway were returning to their sheds to rest. Duke had broken down earlier that afternoon, his safety valve popping under all the strain he’d been putting on himself.

“You need to be more careful,” warned Skarloey. Duke raised an eyebrow. “I may have overdone it this time,” Duke admitted with a grumble. “But why are you telling me to be more careful? I saw the number of trucks you were taking.” Skarloey winced – he had taken Duke’s trucks as well as his own, straining his pistons in the process.

“Because… it was only one time,” Skarloey eventually replied. “And we have to be very careful with our health, because if we can’t be mended here in our little workshop… we go over to Crovan’s Gate.”

“I beg your pardon? I only recently came from Crovan’s Gate.” “And it’s a lucky thing you did too,” Skarloey replied ominously. Duke frowned. “You’re not telling me something, Skarloey. We both know that I will find out eventually, so you might as well be honest.”

Skarloey sighed.

“Yes, I’m not telling you something – and for good reason! Crovan’s Gate Works is haunted.” Duke went silent.

The air hung thick around them, the smell of coal, grease and steam hanging inside the poorly ventilated shed.

“Ah,” Duke said at last. Skarloey stared at him in disbelief! “You… think I’m telling the truth?” “I know it,” snorted Duke. “I was around when the Old Iron Bridge was closed; everyone was talking about it up at Peel Godred. This island hides a lot of secrets.” Skarloey chuckled humourlessly at that.

“You’re not wrong,” he said quietly. “And there’s something that lurks in Crovan’s Gate Works… no… someone.”

The lights outside the shed flickered, and Skarloey frowned. “Those blasted electric wires! Someone needs to fix them. Preferably now – especially with the time of year.” “Why’s that?” asked Duke. Skarloey sighed. “The ghost lurking around Crovan’s Gate is only able to interact with our world if all the lights go out.”

Duke made a noise of exclamation so suddenly it spooked Duncan out of his snoring! “Whaddya… want…” groaned Duncan drowsily before falling back to sleep.

“That explains the floodlight they kept shining in my face,” grumbled Duke. Skarloey went to reply, when the lights outside flickered again, then went dark. Skarloey went pale.

Outside, the wind began to pick up. The lights inside the shed wavered, but stayed on at a low, orange glow, the old oil lamp working as hard as it could to illuminate the darkness.

“Oh dear…” murmured Skarloey. Something outside moved. Across the mainline, Duke swore he could see two blood red eyes open, shifting to glare furiously at them. Sparks shot up into the night from above the eyes.

“Skarloey… what is that?” “An old Wellsworth & Suddery engine,” Skarloey replied. And he told Duke everything.

“In 1933, an old engine was sent to Crovan’s Gate Works to be overhauled to work on the Brendam Branch. He went into the workshops, and that was the last anyone saw of him. That night, a careless workman knocked over an oil lamp. The flames spread all around the wooden walls of the workshop, burning brightly as they reached up for the roof. The old engine awoke, and cried for help – begged, pleading, screamed for someone to come. But no one did. No one could. Skarloey and Rheneas were forced to watch in horror as the engine was burnt until he turned to a smoking hulk. Now, he haunts the yards at night, searching for the workman who sealed his fate.” As if to punctuate that point, the shadow of an engine raced by the shed.

“We’re safe in here, because of our light,” Skarloey said ominously. “But many a workman, coach or truck have vanished when the lights go out at Crovan’s Gate. Don’t get caught over there, Duke. Especially when the lights go out.”

The lights flickered back on, and for a split second, Duke swore he could see the horrific sight of a half-melted engine, face peeling and blistered with eyes blazing full of hatred.

Duke was more careful with himself after that, wary of the spectre that haunted Crovan’s Gate Works when the lights went out.

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