Howdy all!
Last weekend at CRRM we ran our annual Halloween train, of which pictures have been posted here (If you haven't seen them already). Chase Bond and Kyle Colley from the D&S along with Dylan Hutson from Chama came up to help out (thanks so much guys, great to see you!), and after work we grabbed dinner in Golden and "shot the breeze" in typical railroad fashion. At some point, the topic of Halloween and ghost stories came up, and we dished for an hour or two about what spooky events we'd born witness to in our (comparatively limited) times on our respective railroads.
I thought it might be fun to ask some of y'all on the forum, who have been around these things longer than any of us listed above, what some of your best 'spooky stories' were for Halloween. I'll go ahead and write out a short one of mine below to get the ball rolling:
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During Polar Express two or three years ago, I was (characteristically for the time) doing some homework in the cab of 491 between runs. It was a calm night, with not the faintest whisper of wind in the air. My fireman and I had swapped seats for the duration of the break (can't remember why), and she sat occupied as the engine simmered quietly. Not a word had been spoken for some time, as we were both engrossed in our respective activities, when a voice from the gangway asked, "What?"
I looked up, expecting to see Jeff or Dusty back in the cab after having rendezvoused with the conductor, though there was nobody- only the fireman and myself. She too had heard the inquisitive voice, and raised an eyebrow at me as if to ask "what did you say?"
I raised the same eyebrow in return, breaking the silence shortly after. "Did you say something?"
"No" she replied, "I thought you said 'what'."
"I didn't say anything... but you heard that too?" At this point I was more confused than spooked. After all, it wasn't uncommon for crewmen to be around the locomotive between runs, though I hadn't recognized the voice, nor been able to source precisely where it had come from. With no further light shed from the fireman, I closed my notebook and peeped out the window; looking and listening for anyone near. With not a soul in sight, I rose and stumbled across the cab to check the engineer's side.
"Hello?" I called out into the darkness. No reply.
Lips pursed in a puzzled way, I climbed back into my seat and took another look. Only the faint glow of an approaching brakeman's lantern could be seen, at least a couple car lengths beyond the rear of the train.
Too far to have said anything, surely... The fireman and I began chatting back and forth, half to exchange thoughts on what could have happened, and half to drown out the deafening silence that had overtaken the cab since the voice had gone. The conversation turned to ghosts. At this point in time I hadn't really seen much around the museum that I'd call paranormal, though had heard plenty of stories from Chama and Durango about things going bump in the night. She apparently had more experience with strange occurrences, and began to glance about the cab nervously as she spoke.
With the passing of another minute or so, Jeff and Dusty reappeared and joined us in the warmth of the cab. After a quick recount of the mysterious voice's question, they too joined in the conversation and before long everyone was talking over one another trying to make heads or tails of what it could have been. Having seen the fireman's face go slightly pale at the mention of ghosts, I decided to play devil's advocate and steer the debate away from the paranormal.
"I mean, there's got to be a reasonable explanation guys- after all, there's no such thing as ghosts."
As I finished my sentence, a powerful gust of wind whipped through the cab. Seemingly out of nowhere (as the night had been calm otherwise), the gust demanded everyone's attention as it threw coal slack from the gangway and, bone chillingly, blew out the Adlake brakeman's lantern that had been burning above my head. The wind was piercingly cold, and seemed to howl as it burst past, before all at once it was gone. For a moment, everyone was quiet. Dusty, standing nearest me, pulled the lantern down from its hook to examine the thing. The lamp, designed to stand up to wind and tucked almost out sight in the 'rafters' of the cab, was indeed dark.
For the remainder of the night, nothing was said about ghosts. Could all this have been a coincidence? Absolutely; after all, nobody is perfect, and we could've been imagining the voice to begin with, though the wind's timing was impeccable and
beyond eerie...
