At this time of the year, as the weather begins to warm and the days gradually get longer, it becomes very popular for stations to tend to their flowerbeds and start to plant new flowers to replace the older ones, many of which may not survive the winter season. As such, flower deliveries often pick up at this time of year, and the engines of the railway is all too eager to help deliver the goods to where it needs to go.
This is also combined with a competition for best kept station. As we all know, stations kept in good order are able to set a good impression for the visitors, and as a result the staff often go a little crazy ensuring their station is the brightest and the best on the line. The steam era trimmings only add to the unique character of the Maritime Line, which makes it one of the most distinctive parts of the country in that regard.
Sometimes these deliveries of flowers are conducted at night, to avoid disrupting the flow of day traffic, and they often use very strange combinations of motive power. One such night, the engine detailed for this duty was Nigel. Nigel, as you know, is a diesel shunter, and as such working freight over a longer distance was most unusual for him.
"This section of the line looks very odd at night," he said, glancing about. "My headlights barely cut through the gloom. And the fog isn't helping."
"Hopefully some poetry will keep us both warm," Onyx said. "Shiver, shiver away cold of the night, and the places where the ghosts go, and the beatnik lives, and the vibrancy of life burns, burns with the energy of the sun."
"Have you been reading Keroac again?" Nigel asked.
"No. I prefer Ginsberg," Onyx replied.
As they approached Perranwell, the signal was red, and they had to stop in the platform.
"It must be the mail," Onyx said.
"We have no choice but to wait," Nigel said dryly. "I knew this would be a fun day."
So they waited and they waited, and the minutes seemed to drag on by. Suddenly, their attention was drawn to a building up on a hilltop. A long time ago, the area had been home to an old tin mine, but this had closed a long time ago. Although Pipp and Zipp had mistakenly wandered into it whilst searching for a flower about a year ago, the entrances had largely been sealed, and the mine was abandoned.
The building consisted of an old engine house and a chimney. The building had once housed a stationary steam engine that had powered the water pumps, but the engine was long since removed. Suddenly, to their surprise the ground there started to shake, and the chimney sank into the ground!
"What was that?" Nigel asked.
Onyx looked up. "Maybe it's the troggles!"
"The what?" Nigel asked.
"The Troggles! Izzy mentioned them, and they cause mischief!"
Just then, the mail steamed through, and they set off as soon as the signal changed.
The next afternoon, Nigel was discussing what he had seen with Sophie and Charles. Charles was not sympathetic. "Troggles, eh?" he said. "Rubbish. Troggles turned out to be drones."
"Besides," Zipp said, "this sounds more like gnomes."
"Gnomes?" Nigel asked.
"Yes," Zipp replied. "gnomes. They cause all sorts of mischief when people aren't looking. Such as moving objects."
"And knocking down chimneys?" Onyx asked.
"Technically, the chimney sank into the ground, so it was being moved."
Pipp chimed in. "I thought that was goblins."
"Goblins steal your socks, but only the left ones," Zipp explained. "I have no idea why."
"Come on, let's get back to work," Sophie said. "There'll be plenty of time for chatting later."
Nigel could only hope nothing else strange would happen.
Unfortunately, he was unlucky. An incorrect work order had resulted in some trucks being dropped off at the wrong location, and Nigel had to go pick them up from Perranwell yard. And, like yesterday, the run was done at night to avoid interfering with the other trains scheduled for the day.
Nigel arrived at the station after an uneventful run down from Truro, and waited in the platform for the signalman to released the shunt lights to let him move forward. As the yard had limited space, Nigel soon found it was a case of shuffling trucks backwards and forwards out of the siding and back into the platform, which meant the shunt took close to an hour to complete. But, at last, he had his train assembled and was ready to head back to Truro.
That was when he saw it. His eyes were once again drawn up onto the hill where the old building stood, and in an instant the ground started to shake again. The old engine house suddenly sank into the ground, vanishing into the depths of the Earth itself.
"What on Earth?" Onyx asked. "How did that happen?"
Before any of them could react, a door on one of the vans burst open, and several gnomes fell out.
"Gnomes!" Nigel said. "Looks like Zipp was right!"
Without a moment of hesitation, the diesel pulled away without waiting for any of the station staff to respond.
"Wait!" shouted a porter. "You've left them behind!"
Upon arrival at Truro, Onyx explained to the station master what had happened. Unlike Onyx, he found the entire thing rather funny.
"This all has a rational explanation," he said. "The engine house and chimney collapsed into empty mineshafts. And the gnomes were being delivered to Truro for the garden display, but ended up at Perranwell by mistake. And you'll have to go back and get them."
"Talk about coals to Newcastle," Nigel said. But he went anyway, and sure enough they loaded the gnomes into a van and brought them back to Truro.
Truro ultimately won the best station competition, and the station master was sure to thank Nigel for his help. It turns out gnomes can be lucky after all... even if one of Pipp's socks went missing later that day!