I, Peter: The Sodor Tales

Chapter 2: A Tragedy and a Savior

So I was going with my father to look for dinner. My father was a tall, strong, and mature rabbit who always knew the right place to find food. Only this time, he didn't. I remember that day well. Father and I went into the garden of old Mr. McGregor. Just so you know, Mr. McGregor is the scariest, oldest, most ruthless farmer there is. And we were trespassing into his garden. 

"Now son", my father said to me. "You must squeeze under the gate in order to not be seen." He squeezed. I squeezed too. We were in the garden. I was so scared. I was sweating and shaking all over. My father noticed this and said, "Peter, being brave is not the same as not feeling scared. Being brave is about what you do, even if you do feel scared." With that began to grab as many vegetables as possible and stuff them in my jacket. Pretty soon, I saw Mr. McGregor looming above us.

"Run, Father, Run!", I yelled, but it was too late. Mr. McGregor's ax caught my father and chopped his head off. He left my father's blue jacket with brass buttons behind. I put it on, feeling like I had to take over my father's burdens now. And I had to. I watched slowly as Mrs. McGregor put my father into a pie and big tears began to roll down my furry brown face. I had just lost somebody who had taught me the most important thing of all, how to be brave. And I would remember that lesson for the rest of my days.

A few weeks later my mother went to that same garden to take a few carrots. I told her not to go to that garden but we were desperate for food. And soon she was with her husband, up in the clouds, taken by the same fate that took my father.

After those terrible tragedies, my sisters, my cousin Benjamin, the other animals and I were so distraught that we decided to move away from the fir tree because it was surrounded by danger. We ran across high mountains and sandy yellow beaches and bustling cities until we came to a small railroad high up in the hills. We ran across the tracks, narrowly avoiding engines who would hit us. But when we ran across a track to a wood we saw, the orange diesel that was on the track stopped and said,"I'm giving that wood to you. You deserve to live in a wood like that. I just have to tell you something important: Here on the Island of Sodor, vehicles as well as animals can talk. With that said, I also have a name, as well as all the vehicles here. It's Rusty."

"My name is Peter.", I said, waving to Rusty as he chuffed along and we went into the wood chanting, "ALL HAIL RUSTY!"