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Description
"Could I please stay here? If I go back, well... my only option is..."

"Well, if that's what you wish."

Oh, how could he have made such a request? At least, if he were scrapped, Peter would be where his deceased siblings were. Was there an afterlife for engines? Peter couldn't be 100% certain. But one thing he knew for sure... he felt so lonely.

He wished he could call out to the engines rushing through the other tunnels. Sometimes, he'd hear them talking as they pass by. One such engine was thundering by with a fast passenger train - Peter could only assume that was the island's express engine. Another one was sometimes overheard mumbling about being reminded of being caught in the rain. And sometimes, usually in snowy weather, two engines would rattle through at the same time, their voices with a strong Scottish dialect.

Peter wouldn't describe himself as a social butterfly, but he was by no means a loner. He loved being able to talk with fellow engines. It didn't have to be the most deep and meaningful discussion. Peter wouldn't care if the discussion was about what liveries other engines wore. He always felt like he was a bit of a family engine.

I feel like I'm cursed, he thought sadly. Why did I agree to be part of this strategic steam reserve? I can't even tell the other engines what I've been through....

Still feeling as alone as ever, Peter cried himself to sleep.

----------------

Not kidding, I cried when I making the picture and writing out this short scene.

Peter and STMY wildnorwester

Description
"Could I please stay here? If I go back, well... my only option is..."

"Well, if that's what you wish."

Oh, how could he have made such a request? At least, if he were scrapped, Peter would be where his deceased siblings were. Was there an afterlife for engines? Peter couldn't be 100% certain. But one thing he knew for sure... he felt so lonely.

He wished he could call out to the engines rushing through the other tunnels. Sometimes, he'd hear them talking as they pass by. One such engine was thundering by with a fast passenger train - Peter could only assume that was the island's express engine. Another one was sometimes overheard mumbling about being reminded of being caught in the rain. And sometimes, usually in snowy weather, two engines would rattle through at the same time, their voices with a strong Scottish dialect.

Peter wouldn't describe himself as a social butterfly, but he was by no means a loner. He loved being able to talk with fellow engines. It didn't have to be the most deep and meaningful discussion. Peter wouldn't care if the discussion was about what liveries other engines wore. He always felt like he was a bit of a family engine.

I feel like I'm cursed, he thought sadly. Why did I agree to be part of this strategic steam reserve? I can't even tell the other engines what I've been through....

Still feeling as alone as ever, Peter cried himself to sleep.

----------------

Not kidding, I cried when I making the picture and writing out this short scene.

Peter and STMY wildnorwester