This should be read in a Ringo Starr type voice, as it is a kids story mixed with horror.
It was a cold and rainy day on the island of Sodor. A chilly mist had rolled up on Brendam Docks making the whole place…eerie.
“I don’t like this,” cranked Cranky, the large metal crane.
Salty the old diesel shunter agreed. “There’s something not quite right.”
A haunting, otherworldly bell echoed over the dockyard as out of the mists came a strange man. He was slender, dressed in black leather and had dozen of pins in his white-grey head. He looked around slowly before fixing his eyes on Salty. The diesel engine nearly burst his boiler with unexplained fear.
“Where. Am. I?” seethed the man in a voice that had menace in every syllable. Salty pumped his pistons and steamed away but the strange man lifted his hand causing Cranky to lasso Salty, hooking him like a caught fish.
“What’s going on?” yelled Cranky as his cable worked against his will.
“Cranky! What are you doing?” screamed Salty as he was drawn back slowly towards the man, his wheels screeching against the tracks making sparks fly.
“I can’t stop Salty!” cried Cranky as his cable whined and smoke pealed off the drum.
“Someone please, help me!” pleaded Salty. The man smiled as Cranky kept unwillingly dragging his workmate towards him. The old diesel screamed loudly matched by the groans of the old crane.
“Now…” repeated the man. “Where. Am. I?”
“The, the, the island of Sodor!” squealed Salty.
“Thank you,” he replied as Cranky hauled the diesel train up off the tracks and into the air. “I must now find who opened the Lament Configuration.”
And like that he stalked away up the tracks leaving a very scared Salty and Cranky alone at Brendam Docks like a hangman's platform for trains.
Meanwhile at Knapford Station, the Fat Controller looked at the wooden box with gold and brass hinges that his mother, The Dowager Hatt, had given him for his birthday. It was a puzzle of sorts and being really useful, he managed to solve it quite quickly. He looked out across the platforms at his charges.
“Today,” he said “We have a lot of work to do. Gordon…”
“Yes sir,” said the big blue express.
“You will be taking my mother, The Dowager Hatt, to Brendam Docks so she can pick up my brother who’ll be arriving on the two o’clock ferry.”
“Oh the indignity!” moaned Gordon at the job he’d been given.
The Fat Controller ignored him and turned to Percy the mail train. “Percy…”
“Yes sir,” said the little green engine happily.
“You will have a special mail service at Kellsthorpe Road station today, picking up the children to my come to my birthday party which is at Maron Station.”
“Yes sir!” Percy’s boiler bubbled with excitement.
“Yes sir,” said the big green engine with a smile.
“You will be taking me to Maron Station via Farmer Trotter’s farm, who has some lovely red apples for the party.”
“Yes Fat Controller,” tooted the dark green engine.
“You will be picking up Mr Bubbles for the party from Wellsworth Station. And Thomas…”
“Yes sir,” replied the happy little blue engine.
“You will go to Marthwaite to help James shunt lemonade to Maron Station, as we all know what happened last time you shunted lemonade.”
All the engines laughed, remembering the time Thomas nearly ruined a town party by taking bumpy tracks and popping all the lemonade corks.
“It will be my pleasure sir,” whooshed Thomas. And with a huff and a puff, all the engines went on their merry way.
Gordon thundered down the line to Brendam Docks. The sky was dark and gloomy and slowly blanketing the island.
“Looks like a storm,” said Gordon as he pumped his pistons. Ahead on the tracks stood a man. Gordon scrunched up his face and wheeshed loudly. “Out of my way! Express coming through!”
The man in strange black dress held his arms wide open and glared at the approaching train.
“OUT OF MY WAY! EXPRESS COMING THROUGH!” roared Gordon as he increased speed. The man simply stood his ground. Gordon grunted and hit his breaks, sparks flew from the tracks as his carriages buckled behind him as he squealed to a halt.
“Out of MY way,” hissed Pinhead as he summoned a bunch of mystical chains that leapt from the ground and plunged their hooks into Gordon’s grey face and boiler.
“Oh the horror!” screamed Gordon as his face was stretched and pulled.
“This is but a miniscule amount of what you call…horror,” chuckled Pinhead as he looked the terrified engine in eye. “Now…tell me where the Lament Configuration is.”
End part 1