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weirdowithaquill · 27 days ago

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Traintober 2024: Day 29 - Misty

I WARNED YOU ABOUT THE RAVINE:

Henry the Green Engine had never forgotten about his encounters by the lake. They stuck in his mind, and he decided to ask Old Bailey the stationmaster about them.

“A fogman’s coat?” quizzed Old Bailey. “I didn’t set one of them up – I put up a barrier across the track with a sign saying the line was dangerous – didn’t you see it?” “No…” Henry replied slowly, and he explained what he’d seen. Old Bailey looked nervous.

“Well,” he said slowly. “There are old legends about this part of the island. Be careful, okay?” Henry agreed, and decided to warn whichever engine Sir Topham Hatt chose to run the new branch.

The day before the engine arrived, Henry had to take a late night supplies train to the far end of the little branchline, beyond the station Old Bailey now ran. The line here curved along the ravine before crossing over an immense viaduct that carried it over said ravine. It reached deep into the Sudrian heartlands, where it passed through a small village, around the lake and then crossed over another, smaller bridge to reach its final destination. The second, older industrial line at Old Bailey’s station had been quietly pulled up, and the station building turned to face the line. Now, the gates simply hung there, smashed and useless. Sir Topham was planning on removing them – but strangely enough, no one did.

It was a beautiful little line during the day, but at night it gained an eerie feeling. The trees seemed more like gnarled hands reached out of the ground, and rush of water at the bottom of the ravine echoed around. Henry didn’t like it very much, and was happy to speed through his job. At the end of the line, he shunted away his trucks and slowly began to puff backwards. An owl hooted in the distance. Henry grimaced – he knew what that meant.

As Henry made his way home, a thick mist slowly rose up from deep in the ravine, enveloping both him and the line. It swirled around, teasing at Henry’s dome and valve gear. Henry gulped, squeezing his eyes tight and taking a deep breath. The ghost had warned him, the ghost wasn’t out to hurt him. He believed in it, and in the fact it would help him if he needed it. Whatever this ghost was, it had proven that much.

The mist grew even thicker, until Henry could barely see the lineside. It didn’t help that his fog lamps had been mounted on his tender to allow his crew to see down the line. “We’re just crossing the viaduct now, old boy,” called his driver. “Thank you!” Henry called back. He rumbled over the viaduct and continued on, making his way along the side of the ravine. As he did, he looked down at the lineside, and nearly yelped. Down by the lineside, lamp swinging, was a dark figure, strolling along the ballast. It was too dark to make out anything but his lamp – Henry quietly hoped it was Old Bailey, but something in his boiler told him it wasn’t.

Henry made his way back to the safety of Edward’s station as quickly as his wheels would carry him. He found Edward there, waiting for the old engine in the sheds.

“I saw something,” hissed Henry. “It was probably the ghost,” replied Edward easily. “No one knows who or what it is – but it is known that it roams that branchline at night, looking out for dangers and warning engines… well, so long as you respect it. Rumour has it, if you insult the ghost… well, it’s said it will exact revenge.” Henry shuddered at the thought. He was thankful that the ghost hadn’t considered his own words sufficiently insulting. He fell asleep hoping that the engine the Fat Controller sent was sensible enough to also heed the ghost’s warnings.

‘PEEP! PEEP PEEP PEEP!” Henry and Edward jolted awake, spluttering and yelping. A bright orange tank engine steamed into the sheds, grinning from ear to ear and showing off his slightly crooked teeth.

“Billy!” snapped Henry furiously. “What is wrong with you?! Don’t you know better than to do that to your elders?” “Don’t be a drag, Henhouse. I’m having fun.” Henry and Edward shared an indignant look.

“Why are you here anyway, Billy?” asked Edward. Billy smirked; Henry wished he could shove Billy off the rails at the sight of that look. Especially flashed at Edward. “I’ve been given my own branchline by the Fat Controller,” Billy boasted. “The one to the lake!” Henry felt his jaw go slack. “You?!” he exclaimed. “Of all the engines in England, he chose you?! Is he having a laugh? You are an insipid little engine with no tact, no sense and not a polite bolt in your frame! I’m meant to hand this line over to you?” “There’s no need for such rudeness,” sniffed Billy. “I’m perfectly capable!” Henry wasn’t sure he agreed.

The big engine was unfortunately tasked with teaching Billy the line over the rest of the day. Billy was not pleasant to work with at all. He banged about roughly, never wanting to do any of the hard work like shunting or arranging short freight trains. All Billy wanted to do was roam about the line with his coaches, adhering to a timetable that suited him and his desires.

This meant Henry spent most of his day physically forcing Billy to stay still and actually do his work – it wore the poor engine right out, and by the time the pair made it back to the sheds Henry was exhausted. At least there was no supply train that evening.

As Henry tried to rest his aching wheels, an owl fluttered over to a nearby tree and hooted loudly. “Stupid bird,” sniffed Billy. Henry winced, remembering his encounter the night before. “You should respect that owl,” he warned. “For whenever that owl hoots, a mist rolls in. There’s a legend that when the mist’s about, there’s a ghost about too. You be careful on that line, Billy.”

Billy scoffed, loudly.

“Don’t be stupid, Henry! There’s no such thing as ghosts, and even if there was it’s a pathetic ghost if it’s heralded by an owl of all things. You’ve lost it, old timer. You can take your sorry excuse for a ghost story and ram it up your—” Edward blasted his whistle as he backed into the sheds, drowning out Billy. His lips were drawn into a thin line, and he looked actually angry; Henry felt a chill run through his boiler at that. Edward was never angry.

“You should learn some sense and smarten up about that ghost, Billy. You’re running that branchline now, and you need to understand what it involves. That ghost will warn you of dangers, but only if you respect it!” Billy rolled his eyes. Edward scowled, but said no more.

“Just don’t insult it,” Edward said sharply. “I’ll do what I like!” Billy retorted petulantly.

The next day was Billy’s first day alone on the branch. As he trundled along with his coaches, he thought back to Edward and Henry’s warnings.

“What a stupid story,” he said aloud. “There’s no such thing as ghosts! I bet I could say that this so-called ‘ghost’ was a disaster and a pathetic excuse for a supernatural entity and it wouldn’t do anything! In fact, I think the two of them are lying to me. Screw you, ghost!”

Billy didn’t notice, but the ground near the ravine weakened slightly, a few pebbles falling from the steep hill down to the lineside.

The day went on, and Billy barely spared a care for the ‘ghost’ or for running his branchline how Henry had suggested. He jaunted about with his coaches, dumping trucks on behind them when he had to and never waiting for his guard or any of the porters, shunters or even his own crew. It was a lucky thing indeed that nothing bad happened!

That evening, Billy was tasked with taking a late night train to the end of his line. He shunted his trucks together roughly, banging them into one another and storming about the yard in a foul temper. Henry puffed up alongside as Billy finished. An owl hooted, the two engines looking up to see it on the station roof.

“You’d do well to be careful,” Henry warned. Billy scoffed. “That stupid ghost malarky again? You and your ghost are both silly, ridiculous and foolish things that can take your ‘careful’ and ram it where the sun don’t shine!” And with that, Billy stormed away.

Henry watched him go, before looking back up at the owl. “I tried,” he sighed, and left.

Billy made his way along the line, muttering crossly to himself. “Owls, mists, ghosts? Henry’s gone soft in the smokebox! There’s no mist for one thing, and for another ghosts are a dumb spooky concept anyway. ‘Oooooo oooo, look, it’s a floating ball of gas that can’t hurt me! Try again with something actually scary, like a monster or a vampire.”

As Billy headed for Old Bailey’s station, he noticed an amber lamp in a tree. His driver closed the regulator. “That’s odd, the line was fine earlier,” he murmured. Billy huffed, and coasted forwards, his driver preparing to stop at any moment. They got to Old Bailey’s station, and found a fogman’s coat stuck on a tree branch and swaying in the breeze. Billy groaned.

“Great, so now people are losing their property too,” sniffed Billy. “Let’s just keep going!”

They crept forwards, and found that the signal by the station was set to ‘caution’. A sign nailed to one of the crossing gates read: ‘slow at the ravine’. The sign was written in an odd, dark red that seemed to almost still be wet. “That’s odd,” hummed Billy’s driver. “I wonder why that warning is there.” Billy scoffed. “It’s probably something stupid. Let’s just get this done already! I bet it’s Henry trying to spook me by pretending to be his fake ghost. Come on!” With no evidence to the contrary, Billy’s driver agreed – but decided to proceed with caution.

As they passed alongside the ravine, a few rocks came loose and fell to the lineside. Billy stared. “That’s what the warning was for?! A few measly rocks?! If there is a ghost, it’s too dim-witted to realise what a true danger is!” “Oh will you belt up about that!” snapped his driver. “I for one don’t know what’s out there, and I’d rather listen to Henry than not.” “Don’t you tell me you’re one of them ‘believers’ too now!”

Billy’s driver didn’t reply, and the orange tank engine continued on.

Both Henry and Edward ignored Billy throughout the rest of the next day. It rained too, adding to the odd tension in the yards. Both Edward and Henry felt like something was off, but they weren’t sure what – either way, they knew whatever it was, Billy was blundering his way right towards it.

For his part, Billy didn’t seem to care. He banged about the yard and the branchline as he had done the day before, not really caring about how the rain dampened the already weakening soil and rock around the ravine.

That night, Billy had to deliver another train to the end of the line. As he prepared it, Edward sidled alongside. “I’d keep a keen eye out,” the old engine said vaguely. Billy scowled. “I don’t need advice from you!” he snapped. “I can do it myself!” Edward sighed, and said no more.

As Billy departed, Edward got the sinking feeling that the next time he saw the orange engine, it wouldn’t be in one piece.

Billy clattered to the junction with his branchline, his thoughts swirling about as he grumbled under his breath about everything and anything. He hated being bossed around or told what to do – he’d rather do it his own way, with his own ideas. And this stupid ghost business too, what rubbish—

“HOOT!” An owl swooped right in front of Billy, jolting him out of his head. Billy glared up at the bird, and tried to wheesh steam at it – but it had already flown away.

“I hate that dumb bird!” roared Billy furiously. “Find some hunters and shoot the darn thing!” His crew exchanged a nervous look.

It was only a few minutes later that the fog set in. It came thick and fast, enveloping Billy until he couldn’t even see his own buffers. This time, there was no amber lamp. There was no signal set to warn Billy, nor any fogman’s coat. Instead, a sign was nailed to a tree by the lineside:

I WARNED YOU ABOUT THE RAVINE

Billy barely spotted it, but when he did, it sent a chill through his boiler. The red paint didn’t look like paint in the thick mist; it looked like blood. Unbeknownst to Billy, a force quietly unhooked his trucks, braking them to a halt at the platform.

Then, it appeared in Billy’s cab, knocking both crew members unconscious and dropping them next to the trucks. Billy didn’t notice – at least, not at first.

“Driver? Driver cut off steam you idiot, we’re going too fast!”

He looked down at the lineside as a flash of light caught his eye. A blood-soaked figure straggled by; Billy didn’t get a proper look, but he thought it’s eyes were glaring straight into his soul. Now he was beginning to worry.

“Driver? Driver! Stop me now!” There was no reply.

Billy roared around the bend, right as the rock and earth gave way. It roared down the hillside, slamming right into Billy and sweeping him off the line. With a scream, Billy was dragged off the line and into the ravine, plunging downwards before smashing into the jagged rocks below.

There was a hiss, a groan – and then nothing.

It was morning when Henry was awoken by a frantic foreman. “Billy never returned last night, and Old Bailey just found his crew and trucks at his station. Go along the line and see what you can find!”

Henry was hurriedly steamed up. Edward opened a sleepy eye. “We tried to warn him,” he murmured. Henry winced, and made his way towards the old branchline.

As he approached Old Bailey’s station, he spotted something that made his fire turn to ice. The sign was still nailed to the tree. In the daylight, it was very clearly written in blood.

“Oh… oh hell…” gulped Henry, feeling queasy. His fireman leaned out of his cab and threw up on the lineside. Old Bailey met him at the platform with Billy’s crew.

“We were driving along one moment,” the driver said quietly. “And then I felt someone behind me – and then we were here. I just don’t get it – what happened?” “I have a feeling I might know,” murmured Henry, feeling deeply unwell. “And Mr Bailey, sir… you might want to take the sign down. The ghost… uh… made itself very clear.” Old Bailey raised a confused eyebrow, and wandered down to the sign. When he saw it, he shouted in alarm and jumped a good ten feet back.

“There really is a ghost!” he exclaimed, and sprinted back to the platform. “And it’s angry.” “I think I know why too,” sighed Henry. “Billy thought we were idiots for being afraid of a ghost. I think it didn’t take kindly to his… uh… words.” “But that begs the question… where is Billy now?” Henry had a sinking feeling that he knew. He shunted the trucks out of the way, and everyone crammed into the works coach behind him. Henry very slowly made his way up the line, before braking to a halt. There was another landslide across the track – or… there had been. The track itself was clear, but debris had built up on either side. Most of it had plunged over the side, alongside…

Billy.

The orange tank engine was destroyed. The fall had punctured his boiler, and shards of rock stuck out. His cab was crumpled, his wheels sticking out at horrible angles. The worst bit was his smokebox. It had been slammed with a boulder, and was completely caved in. There was almost nothing that could have been salvaged. Henry looked down to the lineside, and spotted an old amber lamp sitting there, glass cracked. He paused, then looked up.

He may have been imagining it, but he thought he could see a figure darkened by the harsh glare of the sun, watching them all as they stared down at Billy’s remains.

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#weirdowithaquill #fanfiction writer #railway series #thomas the tank engine #railways #traintober #traintober 2024 #ttte henry #ttte edward #ttte billy #haunted henry #prompt: misty #tw engine death #tw: blood #tw death

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