Hello, welcome to Stories Podcast.
I'm your host, Amanda Weldon.
Today's story is called The Ghost and the Train, a slightly spooky story inspired by The Signalman by Charles Dickens, written for you by Daniel Hines.
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Enjoy the episode!
Once upon a time, when America was young and wild and spirits still walked the woods, there was a lonely stretch of railway.
It was a spot where 13 different rails all met to pass through a tunnel through a mountain.
Thirteen tracks merged into one that passed through the heart of stone and then split into thirteen again on the other side.
Thirteen is a number for spirits, and out in the wilds of the woods, so was the mountain.
It was a lonely place but because it was so important for the railroad and so many trains and tracks needed switching.
There was a little house just outside of the tunnel with a perfect view right through to the other side.
The railroad paid a worker to live there for a month at a time and manage the tunnel.
At least, that's what Chatterbox Murphy thought.
He'd been working out there at the tunnel for two months in a row now and he was pretty sure he was going to sign up for a third.
Most people were just about crazy with loneliness by the time the third week came around.
But not Chatterbox Murphy.
His nickname was a joke, because Chatterbox, or Chatter, as his few friends called him, barely ever said a word to anyone.
He was a quiet, peaceful and thoughtful man who preferred solitude, which means he enjoyed being alone by choice, which meant he was perfect for the job.
Chatter spent his days keeping the tunnel clear and switching the 13 tracks for the trains that came through.
He would exchange quick passing words with the train conductors, but no more than a brief hello or safe trip as they rolled on by, which was more than enough conversation for Chatter.
At night, Chatter would light a little lantern on his tiny house barely more than a shack really and then settle in for the night.
Inside he had one cozy room with a bed, a kitchen with a wood stove that kept the place warm and even a couple of chairs at a table.
There was also a bookshelf full of random books, which is how he spent most of his free time.
Trains didn't often come to the tunnel at night, but when they did they would blow their horn three times, and that was Chatter's signal to hop out of bed and make sure they got through safely.
He was a light sleeper, so this didn't bother him much.
And because the tunnel was in the middle of nowhere, the stars above were incredible.
He could see all the constellations and even the glowing smear of the Milky Way across the sky.
It was one chill fall night that Chatter was woken up by three long blasts of a train's horn.
He stumbled out of bed, pulled on his boots and jacket, and went out into the yard.
A train was rolling through, and he gave it the all-clear.
He sat in a wooden rocking chair he had on the little house's porch and waited until the train passed.
He was just about to go to bed when he saw something strange.
There was another light by the tunnel.
Can't be another train, Chatter said to himself.
Not so soon after the first.
He got up and walked a little closer.
Something was strange about the light, something that he couldn't put his finger on.
He got closer, walking down the chilly metal tracks, his boots, knocking off every one and echoing strangely in the air.
Hello?
He called.
The light was smaller as he got closer, more like a small lantern than the big lights of a train.
Is someone there?
Chatter came around a big rock and found himself staring down the tracks at something that made his blood run ice cold in his veins.
There was a ghost on the track.
It was an old man, all green smoke in the shape of a body.
When he noticed Chatter looking at him, the ghost turned and started to raise its arms.
Chatter screamed and ran back down the tracks.
He dove into his little house and slammed the door behind him.
He could still see the ghostly green glow through the window.
So he closed the shutters and shades too, and then dove under the covers of his bed.
He waited there, shaking and panting, until the first light of dawn broke over the horizon and he dropped into a fitful and tossy-turny kind of sleep.
He had strange and scary dreams and when he woke up, Chatter had no idea what was real and what was a nightmare.
In the light of day, with a glass of juice and a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him, the idea of a ghost just seemed plain silly.
It must have been a bad dream, Chatter decided.
He probably had too much salt pork with dinner, and that explained the whole thing.
But the next night, when the sun went down, the fear came back.
In the dark.
Every strange flickering of his lantern was a goblin, and every stray slip of the moon was a ghoul.
Fluttering bats overhead were vampires, and howling coyotes were rampaging werewolves in Chatter's imagination.
Stop being silly, he said to himself.
You had a bad dream.
It comes with the territory working out here alone.
And now you're talking to yourself.
Get it together, old man.
He laid in bed with a book but couldn't read much before he fell asleep.
It felt like moments later when the triple scream of a train horn woke him up.
But it must have been hours because the moon was halfway across the sky and he was wet with dew.
I'm coming, I'm coming, he muttered as the three blasts came again.
He stumbled outside into the moonlight and squinted at the tunnel looking for the approaching train.
He saw the pinprick of its light at the far end of the tunnel and made sure the track switch was set upright.
He was about to go back inside his shack when something caught his eye.
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There, on the same spot on the track as the night before, was the ghost.
It was staring right at Chatter and as he watched, the ghost pointed at him with a pale and wispy finger and then, with dreadful slowness, he pointed straight at the ground.
Nope, shouted Chatter.
It's not my time, ghost.
Get away from here.
Go, go, go.
And right then, the train barreled through the tunnel, blowing the whistle three times again.
It bowled down the track and went right through the ghost like he wasn't really there, which maybe he wasn't.
Because when the train fully passed, the ghost was gone and the tracks were quiet.
Chatter stood there shaking, and not because of the chill night air.
Where had the ghost gone?
Was it even real at all?
Chatter ran back into his shack, locked the door and put a chair up against it, just to be double sure, and then threw himself into bed.
Once more, he didn't fall asleep until the sun came up over the horizon, and even then it was fitful and bursting with bad dreams.
Enough is enough, he said to himself when he woke up the next morning, tired and angry.
If I see that ghost again tonight, I'm not going to let it scare me.
I'm going to run right up to it and thump it good.
And if my hand goes right through, well, then it can't hurt me anyway.
Of course, it was easy to say that during the day, and a lot harder to keep it up at night.
But after a long day of working the switch and keeping the tracks and trains safe, the sun set and the moon rose, and Chatter was in bed before it was fully dark.
He wouldn't admit it, not even to himself, but he was afraid to be alone in the dark now, in a way, he had never been in all his long years working alone on the rails.
So he fell asleep early.
But even in his nightmares, he saw the ghost.
And at midnight, the moon barely aglow behind the clouds, the three train blasts sounded in the air.
Chatter sat bolt upright in bed, sweaty and heart-pounding.
He was terrified, but Chatter knew he had to go out there and check the train.
He threw on his coat against the chill of the night, pulled on his boots and marched out onto the tracks.
The train was coming down the tunnel, and it was already on the right one of the 13 tracks.
So all Chatter had to do was watch.
As the train got closer, though, a ghostly green figure seemed to rise out of the ground.
Head, then shoulders, and then the rest of the old bearded ghost floated above the rails.
Nope, shouted Chatter.
Go away!
The ghost raised an arm slowly.
He pointed a wavering finger at Chatter and then pointed to the ground.
No!
I won't let you scare me anymore!
Just like he had planned, Chatter charged at the ghost.
He was too angry to be afraid anymore, and charging at the ghost was all he could think of to do.
Bah!
He bellowed, getting right up into the ghost's face and swinging a big overhand punch.
His fist went right through the ghost, disturbing its shape like mist that pulled itself back together a second later.
You can't hurt me, Chatter called.
So what do you want?
The train was getting closer, running down the tunnel, echoing and rumbling the ground.
The ghost pointed at Chatter again and then pointed down at the ground between his feet.
Chatter followed the pointing and saw that the ghost was standing on one of the track switches.
What do you want? he screamed as the train chugged closer and closer.
It was a passenger train on an overnight leg, full of sleeping families.
The ghost pointed down again, more urgently.
Chatter looked again at the track switch just as the moon broke through the clouds.
In the sudden burst of light, Chatter saw the switch had gotten jammed.
The tracks weren't aligned.
If the train kept coming, it was going to launch off the tracks and slide into a fiery crash.
The train was loud now, close too, but Chatter knew what he had to do.
He sat on the track wedging himself between the metal rails and put the heel of his boot on the stuck switch.
The train was bearing down on him, would flatten him, but he couldn't let it derail.
Come on, he shouted, and pushed with all the strength of his legs.
The rail switch groaned and seemed locked in place.
The train screamed as the conductor spotted Chatter and threw the brakes.
Far, far too late to stop in time.
Go!
Chatter bellowed and kicked with all his strength.
With a rasping clunk, the rail switched over into the right track.
A second later, Chatter felt a strong hand on the back of his collar pulling him.
He flipped head over heels and landed in the dirt next to the track.
A second later, the train screamed by, throwing up sparks as the brakes ground on the iron rails.
It hit the switch, bumped slightly, but stayed on the tracks.
Chatter had done it.
All because of the ghost!
He looked around and saw the ghost standing next to him, smiling.
You pulled me off the rails, Chatter said, and the ghost nodded with a smile.
You weren't threatening me at all, said Chatter.
You were trying to warn me, and now that he was up close, Chatter could see the old man's ghostly clothes.
They were old, but he was wearing the jacket of a railroad worker, just like Chatter's.
The ghost smiled, patted Chatter on the shoulder, and then disappeared into the misty night.
Meanwhile, the train had ground to a noisy halt.
The conductor jumped down and ran over to Chatter, who was dusting himself off.
Why were you on the tracks, man?
We almost ran you over.
Switch was stuck, Chatter said.
Had to kick it over, would have derailed the train.
Well, thank God you were there then, said the conductor.
How'd you spot that in the dark?
Old rail man's luck, Chatter said with a smile.
Well, you saved the train, said the conductor.
You're a hero.
Just part of the job, Chatter said, and then he helped the conductor get on his way again.
And then he went back into his little house and fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.
He never did see the ghost again.
The End.
Today's story, The Ghost in the Train, was a story inspired by The Signal Man, by Charles Dickens, and written for you by Daniel Hines.
It was edited and produced for you by Ellie Hines and performed for you by me, Amanda Weldon.
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