Steam Engine's Life Story
They say life starts with a spark, and mine was no different – a spark that ignited a raging fire in my belly, breathing life into my cold, steel bones. I awoke to the world in an age where muscle and sinew were being usurped by iron and steam, an era that smelled of coal and echoed with the clamour of industry.
My earliest memories are of the cacophony of hammers and the stench of soot. They shaped me in a temple of fire and metal, where men in leather aprons showered me with sparks and sweat. With each passing day, they chiselled and forged my parts, piecing me together while the world outside chanted the hymns of progress and power. I could feel every rivet driven into my flesh, every plate welded onto my frame.
I was born of earth's hidden veins, the black rock that held the sun's ancient energy, and water, clear as the mountain streams that would dance through my veins, turning to steam with the fervour of my inner furnace. They fed me with shovelfuls of that rock, and I devoured it, my appetite insatiable.
As I grew, so did my sense of purpose. I felt the call to move, to travel, to connect the distant dots of humanity's ambitions. The people, oh the people – they looked upon me with wide eyes, their faces a mixture of awe and fear. I was their creation, yet they treated me as a wild beast, tamed for service. I remember the children chasing along as I rolled out, their laughter mixing with the clatter of my joints and the hiss of my breath.
The seasons changed around me. I saw landscapes transform as I thundered past, a blur of green in the spring that turned to the gold of harvest and then the white stillness of winter. My chest heaved with the rhythm of the tracks, a powerful heartbeat that could be felt miles away. I was the bearer of news, good and bad, carrying letters of love and sorrow, of births and deaths.
War came, a tumultuous storm, and I was thrust into its maw. I carried soldiers, young faces marked by the soot of my breath, their eyes filled with a determination that belied their fear. I bore the weight of weapons, of hope, of retreat. The rails cried under me, and I felt each vibration as a cry from the earth itself.
In time, the war ended, but my journey did not. I witnessed cities rise, saw the rise of new machines, heard whispers of my kin being replaced. And still, I pushed on, driven by fire and water, the symphony of industry my constant companion.
I've seen love blossom in my carriages, watched as strangers became friends, felt the weight of goodbyes and the lightness of hellos. Through it all, I never wavered, a constant in a world of change, the backbone of an era.
And now, you stand here, wondering what I am. Look closely, listen to my tale. The fire, the steam, the tracks – I am the titan of a bygone age, a relic of the time when progress was measured in miles and the strength of one's back. The lifeline that once connected city to city, heart to heart.
Yes, I am that mighty beast of burden, the iron horse, the whisperer of revolutions and the chariot of the common man. I am the steam engine, the pulsing heart of an industrial symphony, now silent in the museum of progress, telling tales of fire, steam, and steel.