//------------------------------//
// The Flatbeds of Fear 
// Story: Thomas and Friends: Halloween Havoc 
// by The Blue EM2 
//------------------------------//

October 31st had arrived, and the weather couldn't have been more perfect for such an day. There was mist and fog rolling about, and the sun was very hard to see. It was certainly ideal weather for the spooky season.

Bellerophon and Misty arrived at the wharf just as a newly arrived ship was being unloaded. It was full of many supplies related to to construction, such as pipes, bricks, and even some slate tiles.

Salty was nearby, and took a look. "Bricks, unloaded from a ship. I wonder if they're heading for New York?"

Sunny looked confused. "Salty, is there a cultural joke there that I'm somehow missing?"

Salty laughed. "It's another old sea shanty!" He then began to sing.

"On the fourth of July, 1806/
We set sail from the sweet cove of Cork!
We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks/
For the Grand City Hall in New York!

'Twas a wonderful craft/
She was rigged fore and aft/
And oh, how the wild wind drove her!
She stood several blasts/
She had twenty-seven masts/
And they called her The Irish Rover!"

"I'm not a nautical engineer, but a ship with twenty seven masts sounds implausible," Misty said.

Just then a strange whistling sound was heard. "What was that?" Bellerophon asked.

Salty smiled. "Those," he said, "must have followed us from the docks at Southampton. They be the flatbeds of fear!"

"Not the flatbeds of fear!" Misty exclaimed. "What are the flatbeds of fear?"

Salty grinned as he began to tell the story. "A long, long time ago (and insert your Don McClean jokes here), there was a freight train working from Southampton to Salisbury, carrying all sorts of cargo. Three of those vehicles were flatbeds loaded with pipes. And during that journey, the train encountered a fierce climb over Honiton Bank near Axminster. The coupling snapped, and the back of the train broke away!"

"Was there an accident?" Sunny asked.

"Heavens, no!" Salty replied. "A quick thinking signalman routed them into a siding, where they did not collide with anything else. But ever since then, the ghosts of the flatbeds have been roaming southern Britain, looking for an engine to couple up to. You know they're near if they produce a whistling noise. And that's before we get onto the tale of the hoppers of horror!"

"If you lot are done talking," said the harbourmaster, "this lot needs moving so we can get the next boat into the dock. Get moving!"

Bellerophon was coupled to the train, and set off up the line.

"Watch out for the flatbeds of fear, Bellerophon!" Salty called. "You never know when they may appear!"





Bellerophon made his way up the line, his cargo rattling behind him as he ascended the Isle of Purbeck. All around him, people were in a hurry to secure critical supplies before the night came. And the fog and mist weren't letting up.

Just then, a strange whistling noise started up. "What's that?" Bellerophon asked.

Misty looked up and down and all around, but couldn't see anything. "What could be making that noise?" she asked. Then she remembered Salty's story. "What if it's... the flatbeds of fear?"



"What was that?" Bellerophon asked.

"That was just an embedded YouTube video," Misty answered, as they stopped at the clay pits. Rebecca was waiting there whilst Sophie was shunting her train.

"Hello Bellerophon!" Sophie called. "Are you hear for some trucks!"

"Yes," Bellerophon replied. "But I just heard the flatbeds of fear!"



"The flatbeds of fear?" Rebecca asked.



"Is that going to happen every time we say flatbeds of fear?" Hitch asked.



"Seems that way," Misty said. "Anyway, these rail vehicles roam the island in search of an engine to pull them. And they whistle."

"Here's hoping we don't encounter them," Rebecca said.

Sophie came to a stop, and Pipp stuck her head out of the cab. "Sir Arthur Conan Doyle once observed that once you have dismissed the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth. I'm certain there's a perfectly rational explanation for all this."

"You live in a country with talking railway equipment, magic that can be empirically verified, and are friends with a girl who can sprout glowing wings when required," Sophie pointed out.

"Well, there is that. But let's stay focused if we're gonna be done in time for the party!"

Rebecca's train was ready. As she was a higher priority working than Bellerophon, she set off first and headed for the mainline. Truth be told, the last few days had had her slightly on edge, and she glanced about in concern. "I hope we don't encounter these flatbeds of fear!" she said.



"That's getting really annoying," Hitch grumbled. "Look, I suspect it's another story Salty made up. You know what he's like."

Just then, a strange distorted noise echoed across the terrain. "What was that?" Rebecca asked.

"Just a cow," Hitch replied. "All the sound is distorted today for some reason."

As they continued on their way, they came to a stop at Corfe Castle to wait for an oncoming train. Alexandra rolled in with a local service. "Good morning!" she called cheerfully.

"Alexandra!" Hitch said. "It's been a while. It feels like you've been gone for ages!"

"Had to go to the Flour Mill to get one of the pistons changed," the railmotor explained. "I'm good as new now."

Suddenly, there was a loud, distorted whistle. "What was that?!" Rebecca asked.

"Just the station master's whistle," Hitch answered. "See? Perfectly rational explanations, as Pipp said."





Rebecca soon made it to Wareham and left her trucks for the mainline engine to collect. She then collected a short train of pipes to head back to Swanage. Once the signal had changed, she set off down the line once more.

"Well, that run went quite smoothly," she said.

"Hopefully we'll be home dry soon, and able to enjoy Halloween in relative peace," Hitch admitted. "The last year has been rather intense for my tastes."

Suddenly, there was a strange whistling noise from behind them. "It's not a cow in a field, and it's not a station master's whistle. So through Pipp's process of deduction, it must be... the flatbeds of fear!"



"Forget the running joke and keep moving," Hitch said. "There's a freight siding at Norden where I can check if anything's loose."

The train halted at Norden, where Hitch found no evidence of whistling. But he did find something rather more serious. "Not again," he sighed. "The outside lubricators have packed in... again. We'll need to get another engine to help."

Charles arrived later, and was having a lot of fun at Rebecca's expense. "What a surprise!" he said. "These big steam engines, always going wrong. Not like a small, compact, reliable diesel."

"Then why are you always so full of hot air?" Rebecca asked.

"Because I am important and have a lot of things to say," Charles replied. "Without me or Sophie this railway would grind to a halt."

"It doesn't grind to a halt when we're in Cornwall," Zipp pointed out.

"That's because they hire in nice sensible diesels, like the one we'll be getting from that brittle person."

Zipp just looked confused as she hopped out of the cab to couple Rebecca up. "Charles, I have no idea what you mean."

"That northern man with the diesels."

Zipp's eyes widened in acknowledgement. "Oh! You mean Alphabittle! They actually haven't finished working on that Class 37 yet. But I bet it'll look good when done."

"Could you possibly speed up putting Rebecca on a siding?" Hitch asked. "This freight won't move itself."





Charles was soon coupled to the train, and they began to proceed down the line. Sure enough, the odd noise started up again. "Any idea what that is?" Charles asked.

Zipp rolled her eyes. "If Pipp is pranking me again, that's seriously not funny." She opened a cab window and listened, before adjusting the speed. The pitch of the noise increased upwards. "Interesting." She then slowed the train down, and the sound got deeper in pitch. "So, this whistling is dependant on our speed. That would suggest something on the train is causing the noise."

But as they approached Corfe Castle, trouble was rude enough to arrive. Somebody had dropped a large box on the passenger footpath, and Charles slammed into it. The box burst open, sending bananas flying into the air and landing all over the place.

"My bananas!" shouted somebody.

"Haven't we already done that joke?" asked another.





Back down at the docks, Porter had just arrived to collect the last train of supplies. "Is this the last lot?" he asked.

"Indeed," said the harbourmaster. "We should be able to head home early tonight and get secured before the spooky season hits."

Salty looked about. "There's a bit of a breeze, isn't there me hearties!" he smiled. "It reminds me of the Seven Plank Wagons of Superstition, which are-"

"What's that whistling noise?" Izzy asked, as some pipes were being moved.

"It's just wind being blown through pipes," Porter explained. "Remember the organ we fixed in Devon? Same principle."

"So all the mention of flatbeds of fear wasn't true?" Sunny asked.



"Will you stop doing that?" asked Porter.

"Like any good ghost story," Salty smiled, "it's partly true and partly... embellished. The breakaway did happen, but I'm not aware of any roaming freight vehicles designed to transport bulk cargo that won't fit into vans or hoppers."

"That was some oddly specific wording," Izzy noted.





That night, the engines had all gathered at the shed for the big Halloween celebration. "Did any of you hear a strange noise during the day? A whistling sound?"

"Came from the pipes, apparently," Porter explained.

"So there was a rational explanation for all that!" Sophie smiled. "I told you!"

"Indeed there was," Salty smiled. "The hoppers of horror, or the coaches of consternation, on the other hand..."