Author's Note: This prompt was suggested by Organicmcgee


W is for Whistle Stop


Change was an important part of life. The seasons turned, fires burned, vehicles aged. Change was one of those things that kept Muir so enthralled with life, even though his path was limited to a shrinking length of track. He had learned long ago to find joy in the way that shadows shifted throughout the year, with the tilt of the earth on its axis causing each day's play between light and dark to be a little bit different. Muir found great enjoyment allowing his eyes to play across this familiar landscape searching for the little differences.

Yes, Muir loved change…at least he usually did. But today, he wasn't so sure because he was being forced to say goodbye to something he loved.

Like all trains, his life was locked to a timetable. A schedule of where he would be and when. There was comfort in the routine…but routines also left little room for surprises. Because of this, Muir always looked forward to the first Thursday of the month, because on that day all schedules were out the window. On that day, the Piston Peak Railway's single line was transformed into whistle stop route.

When Muir had been young, whistle stop routes had been a valuable way to connect rural communities to urban centers. On a certain day of the week or month, vehicles knew that they could wait at their community's tiny little platform and put out a flag to let them know that there was a passenger for waiting for the train. This type of transportation had been an important way to get around, but as roads and highways improved, vehicles had stopped wanting to wait around on a platform for the train to finally arrive. As a result, whistle stop routes were all but extinct in North America with exception of a few routes to remote communities in Alaska and a handful of novelty routes.

Muir had been incredibly blessed. Piston Peaks National Park Railway was the last place in the Continental US to hold a monthly whistle stop route event, to allow its visitors to see pieces of the park rarely experience by non-helicopters. Each vehicle participating in the Whistle Stop event would be given a briefing and a flag when they embarked either in El Portal or at the Lodge. They were told that the last pickup heading out of the park would be leaving the Lodge at 7 pm while the last train heading to the Lodge would leave El Portal at 9 pm, and it was their responsibility to make one of those two trains…but given the size of each of the stopping points, Muir had never had a problem collecting all the visitors by the end of the day.

The fact that he already knew that all his passengers had been collected for the day, made this last run to the Lodge a bit painful. Today was the last day he was going to be able to do his beloved whistle stop route. The new superintendent had stated that the route was too costly and labor-intensive, so he had decided to discontinue the old tradition. On a certain level, Muir understood why. On whistle stop days, it wasn't uncommon for him to ride stretches of rail with just his conductor in his carriages. But Muir had hoped that the large number of passengers that utilized the service would have been enough to keep the monthly whistle stop tour alive.

"Time to go…" Allen, the conductor on this run, patted the engine's side and Muir allowed his eyes to flick to the large clock in the station.

"Sorry about that." The train sighed with a puff of steam. "I was thinking and lost track of time."

"Happens to all of us." Allen chuckled as he boarded.

Muir let off a mournful whistle to announce that he was leaving the station then opened his valves to allow his steam to fill his pistons. Gradually he gathered enough momentum to start pulling his line of carriages down the track. Staring up at the dome of stars above him, Muir decided to take his time on this last run…to savor the freedom that it represented and enjoy breathing cool mountain air. He wanted to remember this moment so he allowed himself to just soak in the memory.

"Muir, look sharp!" Allen's shout pulled Muir out of his thoughts and forced him to put his full focus on the track in front of him. Initially, he could figure out what had caused the conductor to shout, then he saw a light in the distance. At first, the engine thought it must be a deere that had made its way onto the tracks…but the color was all wrong.

Muir slowed and the surroundings came into sharp focus. He knew this place. It was the first stop on his whistle stop route. The one that was just outside of the park in a delightful glen on Forest Service property. There sitting on the platform was the familiar shape of a car. At first, Muir was convinced that he had messed up badly and somehow managed to forget a visitor…then upon further reflection, he couldn't help but have the idea that a ghost had somehow found one of his platforms bubbled up.

Nerves cause his boiler to bubble uncomfortably, but it was a whistle stop day and the flag was out on the platform, so Muir did his duty and stop. When his wheels finally came to a complete halt, he nervously allowed himself to glance over at the vehicle parked on the darkened platform…and he recognized a familiar smile looking back at him.

"Good evening Muir." Ol' Jammer grinned up at him.

"How…" Muir breathed clearly confused. "Why?"

"It is your whistle stop run, so we wanted to make sure that it was a good one." Jammer said settling on his tires. "As for how, I managed to sweet-talk Windlifter into giving me a lift."

Muir couldn't help a bit of delight bubble to the surface. The train laugh, all tension, and sadness he had been wallowing washed away.

"Thank you." The train said softly once he had regained his breath. "Thank you for making this special."

"The pleasure is all mine, but the night is getting late so we better heading home." Jammer said as he boarded.

Muir didn't argue was he allowed his whistle to ring and echo across the mountainous landscape and brought up steam. A smile graced his lips as he approached the next whistle stop platform to spot yet another familiar face flagging him down with a lantern. In fact, there was at least one member of the Piston Peak National Park team waiting for Muir at each of the little platforms. By the time the train reach the Lodge, all of his carriages were comfortably fully with laughing and joyful conversation, which gave Muir an incredible amount of peace. He wished he could have kept running his whistle stop route until the end of time, but knowing that was beyond his control he was grateful that he would have this lovely memory from his very last run.


Five years later….

The pre-drawn air was clear and crisp, it was air that Muir loved because it created the perfect conditions from his head of steam to create a trail of clouds in his wake. Bringing his boiler up to temperature, Muir could help but quiver in excitement, because something he loved was returning.

"Good morning." The train looked up to see the park's superintendent smiling up at him. Muir had been surprised when Superintendent Jammer had suggested that the park reinstate the once a month whistle stop route, but he hadn't been surprised when Jammer had volunteered to join him on this predawn run to make sure all the platforms were ready to receive visitors. "Are you ready for today's event?"

"Am I ever." Muir grinned back as he let out a whistle that sung his joy to the hills. With his single passenger tucked away in a car behind him. Muir let his systems engage, the engine relaxed into the click-clack of his wheels against rails. It was a moment worth savoring…but also worth sharing. And Muir couldn't think of a better vehicle than Ol' Jammer to share this moment with. For the fellow old-timer was a vehicle who also understood the value of change…but he was also a friend that understood the joy of things staying the same.


End Note: Hopefully, you enjoyed a little something from a train's perspective. But now I have two questions for you...The first is do you have any prompts for the letter X.

The second involves the future of this story collection. Based on a lot of disease models out there, it looks like this winter may be worse than lasts. This is pretty normal for pandemics. The 1918 flu pandemic ended up actually lasting from 1917 to 1920, but I also know that this story has lasted longer than many people expected. As we reach the end of the alphabet, we have three possible choices:
1) Continue the story as it is and do another round A to Z.
2) Switch up the format and have another type of prompt series. (I have an idea for something I am calling 'On Repeat' which might be a fun project).
3) End prompted stories altogether and have me focus on writing long-form stories.

Let me know what you all would prefer and as always thanks for reading!