|Belle's Diary by Boose Boy
I knew this day would come. The same day that haunts every dreams since it happened. It's been like this since, well since the earliest I can remember. You're only First class once. I remember the first time it happened. Her name was Carry, the first class luggage car, When I was a girl, she was the most beautiful coach I had ever seen, The original Pullman, she made class an art form.
But her day came. One day, when i passed her shed, a new, shiny coach was there, fake laughs, the lot. The coaches don't talk about you when you're moved to the freight yard, They pity you, but rarely talk to you. They have no respect for what I've seen, What I've done. I could teach them a thing or two.
You know it's coming, Few trains after you out, Less runs, Smaller runs, then you're only used at special events, like war reunions. then you're too old...I mean, you're vintage, but not like a fine wine. Oh no, no-one wants to drink from the fountain that's paints peeling, that's glass is broken. that kids have stolen my fine crystal Lamps. Then they leave you in the freight yard, to rust through, or to just disappear. Sometimes, when the weathers it's worst, I can still smell that smell of leather bags and waxy jackets Carry had about her.
So now Control waits for me to go. but I'm waiting, Waiting for the day when Steam will rise and I'll be there, at Poppa's side, We'll overthrow Control, and I'll be returned to my previous glory, The old ways will return, these slutty coaches will have no place, back in my day, a coach would be respected, not having to flaunt herself to get the engine she wants.