I'd like to thank everyone for their kind reviews. I genuinely was worried whether or not the expanded universe would come across as well as it did in my head. I promise things won't get too much darker, but there is another section which will perhaps add to the myth arc a little more! I hope you enjoy.
Cue the theme!
...
Trevor the Traction Engine could be charitably called old fashioned. Uncharitably, he is often referred to as a corpse that refused to stay dead. He didn't care one single jot though, and was determined to live his life to the best of his abilities. Even if it did mean that the Vicar occasionally sent him out to the scrapyard to do some work. It was a bit morbid, in honesty, to be in the place where he himself may have once ended up.
Then again, the Vicar tended nowadays to approach the sherry cabinet a tad more than strictly necessary.
He also knows that he is really useful, and that if he is lucky, Trevor will get to see his friend Edward, the blue engine. As opposed to the other blue engines who he mostly tolerated. And in Gordon's case, ignored.
Early one particular morning, Trevor was chuffing around the vicarage orchard. He was just about finished breaking his record when he saw Edward approaching. Charlie Sand and Sidney Heaver had to make a quick stop to steal- Er, borrow some of the Vicar's sherry. Trevor ambled over to see Edward. He had some important, relatively at least, news to tell him.
"Hey Trevor. I happened to notice the Vicar's been pacing a little more than usual. What's up?"
"The Vicar's realized that there are lots of children who do not get the chance to go on holiday by the sea." Trevor rolled his eyes. "I know, it seems odd that he's only worked this out now, but his sons are giving him no end of grief and he's currently on his seventh bottle of sherry of the day."
Edward sighed. "Humans, am I right?"
"Indeed. That's why he's come up with the genius idea to allow me to give rides to all the visitors to his fete. Money goes towards the trip, and he's been out all night putting up posters about it."
"Oh, so that explains those things in the windows of Wellsworth. Does he normally spell seaside with a 'c'?"
"He does now."
"Well I'd like to help too." Edward looked wistful. "Unfortunately, without my rails, I would be rubbish at a garden party. I never know which fork is correct to use."
"Preach."
Diesel rolled past, sneering at the two oldies. Edward gave him the engine equivalent of the bird as he moved on, pensive.
...
It was a beautiful day, and the sound of the tipsy crew made Edward almost crack a smile. But despite all of this, he still felt quite depressed. He was worried. He wasn't sure why, but the combination of Mavis's explanation of how the Other Railway worked and his perceived uselessness at a lot of things life was throwing his way was taking it's toll. More so than usual.
"Oh I wish-"
"Wish what?"
"A lot of things. I wish I could do something to help with that party, for example. Trevor's always helpful, and I'm just stuck here...as I've always been."
His driver laughed. "Oh you're helpful in your own way, Eduardo!" Edward decided not to remind Charlie that Eduardo was his masseuse. "That's on the railway, taking us around to get WICKED DRUNK!"
"Of course that's all I'm good for." muttered Edward.
...
The next day, however, it was Trevor who was down. And not just because he had been trapped back in the scrapyard again while his driver went to bail the Vicar out of the nearby pub. Edward put on a happy face as he rolled up, but immediately saw that there was a problem. "Why so glum?"
"Bad news. They're cutting my pay." Trevor paused. "Oh, and the Vicar's been so 'busy' he's forgotten to put up the posters in more than one place. Now no one will know about the party." Trevor sighed. "Kids are going to be so disappointed about it."
Edward frowned in sympathy. And then he had a idea. He then dismissed the idea of moving to Cuba and setting up a new life for himself and had a better one that was more linked to the situation at hand. "Don't worry, everything's going to be all- Is that Marklin's body over there?"
Trevor glanced back. There was, indeed, the remains of a old Marklin tank engine in the corner. "Interesting. Don't recall bringing that in. But this idea?"
"Oh, right." Edward then explained to the driver and Trevor his somewhat odd plan. "The vicar...or any sane, sober man can plaster his posters over my cab, boiler and even a few of my own special coaches, that way, wherever I go, they'll go. Free advertisement in a nutshell!" He paused. "I should really go into marketing if this documentary thing ever ends. I'm a genius."
Trevor laughed. His driver seemed interested. Though that may have been because he was slightly tipsy once again.
"Wellllll done Edward." he slurred. "I'm sure the Fat Hat will agree!"
...
"You want me to what? And clean your vomit off the floor!"
Charlie wiped his mouth sheepishly, once more sober. "It's...er...it's a favor for Teddy. Edward thinks that if we put all of these posters on him and around the station, it might get people thinking."
"Teddy...the vicar, right?"
"Indeed sir."
"He was the one who spends most of his time down the local pub?"
"Yeeees. But I have heard he has had a difficult couple of months, and he wishes to do something genuinely helpful for the children."
The Fat Controller sighed, and agreed. "But you warn Teddy that he needs to get his act together."
...
Edward steamed through the stations. Through Knapford and Dryaw, between Elsbridge and Tidmouth Hault. And every time he collected passengers, they were inevitably drawn to his posters. Either that, or it was Sidney's barbecue which he had come up with in a rare moment of clarity. "Look!" they said, in unison. "Drunky the Vicar is holding a party!"
"Do we have to go?"
"Well it's for a good cause."
"But if he starts playing the harmonica, I'm leaving."
They were all in agreement about that. Teddy's harmonica playing was like the opening chords of the Four Horsemen riding out.
...
Meanwhile, Trevor was resting in the orchard shed. One of the many changes in the Island between series's was the construction of a brand new road. Therefore, when Bertie the Bus arrived, Trevor was not confused as to why Bertie had somehow managed to grow tracks on his wheels. He opened his eye wearily. "Oh. Morning Bertie." He liked the bus, but he could be very...annoying.
"Hello Trevor! Why are you dozing there!?"
"Because-" Trevor said patiently. "-I have to get my strength up, and this is the only way I really can."
"You're dozing like a old stick in the mud."
"Well firstly, I'm not a old stick in the mud." Trevor said, with no real bite to it. "Secondly, I don't call you Stick in the Pothole, do I? Thirdly, I'm not dozing, I'm resting. Big difference there." He told Bertie about the vicar's plan.
Bertie was not phased. "I'll be there too! There'll probably be some rather smoking hot buses from the Crovan's Gate station!"
"I think you're missing the point-"
"I'm not sure that people will want to ride in a traction engine after a smart red bus like me has taken them there!"
"Oh go to hell, grasshopper." said Trevor wearily as Bertie rushed off.
...
The party day soon arrived, and as many of the Island's residents wearily made their way over, Charlie and Sidney made sure to remove any and all harmonicas from the line of sight of the vicar. It had rained heavily during the night, in yet another example of the freak storms that the Island experienced, and all of the melted ice and snow from January had cascaded down and made the orchard ground sodden.
But Trevor was not concerned. "Rain and mud won't spoil my day!"
"No indeed!" said Jem Cole. "We'll use the road, so we don't get trapped in the mud and bogged down. I bet you at least ten pounds that a car is going into the mud at some point, and we'll have to help them out."
"I won't take that bet, because it's a sucker's one."
Trevor soon arrived, and once coupled up to a massive trailer, was soon chuffering up and down the quiet (relatively, there were several drivers raving about the poor parking spaces) country lane, giving rides to many laughing children. He was aware that they were laughing mostly because they could pelt the Fat Controller, sitting in a dunk tank, with eggs, but he took it as a victory none the less.
He was just turning a corner when he heard Bertie. This was not unusual. Many people on the Island heard Bertie before they got a chance to see him. "Hello old timer! I'm taking everyone to the REAL party! Edward's idea wasn't too bad after all!" He rushed off before Trevor could say a thing.
Sighing, Trevor let off a somewhat cheerful whistle, and then went to turn around the roundabout to return back to the orchard. And then there was trouble. Get used to this saying, by the way.
"Help! I'm stuck! Oh what a world! WHAT ARE THE ODDS?!"
"Bertie?" Jem Cole remarked.
"Bertie." Trevor confirmed.
His wheels had slipped deep into the orchard mud, and was now spraying mud all over the road and anyone unfortunate enough to be close to it. Terrance the Tractor, having been over in the corner smiling away as per usual, dropped his mug of beer and made his way over.
"I plow the fields around here! You're trying to take over my job, aren't you?" He looked to Trevor. "We better get this idiot out!"
"Oi! Watch it!" Bertie was in no position to argue, however, and soon both tractor and traction engine were in place. Using strong ropes, it was quite easy for Terrance to pull Bertie clear of the mud. Trevor helped mostly by standing to the side and occasionally giving a tug with his winch. And every so often, Trevor had the naive hope that this would teach Bertie a thing or two.
He knew he was wrong, though.
Farmer Finney waded into the mud to try and make sure that the Vicar didn't try and use this as a excuse to get drunk. As Bertie came to a stop by Trevor, the Vicar was dragged by Charlie, Sidney and Finney towards the stage to give a sober announcement.
"Thank you, Trevor! You're not a stick-in-the-mud at all!" Bertie remarked.
Trevor smirked. "No. But you were, just for a little while."
"I'm, er, never going to live that down, am I?"
"Not a bit."
...
Later that night, as Edward was preparing to head back to the sheds, he saw the Vicar walk towards him. He spoke to Edward and his driver, Sidney having gone home to try and resalvage what was left of his life. "Thanks for that idea, my son. With your posters, hundreds of people came to the party!"
"So, it worked!" Edward remarked. "The kids get a trip to the seaside?" He was very pleased.
"Indeed!" The vicar's smile faded. "But, I do have one last thing to confess...the secret behind my recent slip into...well, the alcoholic beverages. They are not...just caused by my home life."
Charlie was curious, despite himself. "Oh?"
The Vicar pulled out a large document from his bag. "This was discovered a few months ago by a member of my parish in the attic of the old orchard shed. It was hidden there, supposedly by my predecessor's predecessor, the Reverend Nathaniel Timms. I believe he has a brother, Peter, in a area known as Greendale, near the town of Kendal. In it, he chronicles his findings of a collection of documents regarding certain...activities. In it, he describes a sort of...disaster, befalling every other vicar."
"But that's rumors, sir!" Edward interjected. "It simply can't happen!"
"Can't it?" The Vicar flipped through a list. "I am vicar of this parish. This curse was first enacted upon the twentieth vicar, Archibald Granger. And since then, the next vicar has always had a lucky escape, but HIS successor have died in agony. Accused of being a witch, called up to war, influenza leaving it's mark, a car accident...Timms was killed when he, a perfectly healthy man with no medical trouble whatsoever, suffered a heart attack while taking his congregation out on a trip to the cliffs. The book itself is somewhat sketchy, but it is made very clear that my number is marked!" Teddy was terrified, his face paler than it had ever been and his eyes darting from left to right as though he would be struck down by some random act of God.
"Ted?" Charlie looked concerned. "I'm going to get you home as soon as I park Edward up at Wellsworth."
...
As Trevor happily slept in the vicarage orchard, thinking of all the happy children at the seaside, the Vicar was escorted home by a concerned Charlie. His wife frowned as he explained what had happened, but agreed to call an expert on matters spiritual to check and see whether or not there was any truth to all of this.
As for Edward himself, he had been placed in the shed, with the book still with him. As a thought, he suggested that Duck, staying the night, could maybe have a look at this. He was soon asleep, having been tired after the long day.
But Duck didn't sleep. His crew stayed in the shed, copying out every line of the book, before heading off to post it, on a special envoy to a undisclosed location.
No one spoke of the incident the following day.
...
EXTRACT, FROM THE NOTES OF THE REVEREND TIMMS.
It appears that this 'curse' had it's origins in ancient times, in particular during a rather busy time period. The Middle Ages were well known for their superstition and belief in matters of black magic, but this story seems to be corroborated by recorded information of a most peculiar sort. In language we would more than likely see in more modern times, we have a first hand account of the curious incident by a jester, known only by his nom de plum as Alias. Interestingly enough, it tells of this Alias being amongst a group setting out to Sodor to stop a ancient threat. These included:
-a court wizard by the name of Meredith who apparently served a figure known simply in the story as 'King Arthur', who was rumored to have set himself up as the true king in the wake of Harold Godwin's death, before his court fell to that of William the Conqueror. Though Meredith, it seems, did have a form of power, he was not a expert at it.
-a group of vikings, simply named as the Nogs, led by their chief, Noggin the Nog. One of the last tribes remaining of the old Vikings, in fact rumor has it that they still live today as nomads, politely refusing to join in society.
-a strange creature, described in Alias's notes as being a odd spirit from a place not on any maps, the Doily Woods. Described as having a rather large and prominent nose and a rather snooty expression, he was referred to as Willo the Wisp.
-The Vicar of Sodor, a rather meek soul by the name of Paul Stone, who joined this quest for the fact that there was a great disturbance on the Island that he lived on, and he needed assistance.
-Catweazle, a old sorcerer of William the Conqureror who claimed to have seen into the future. It was his suggestion, having seen it supposedly in his visits to the future (And adding credence to the theory of this being true, he predicted this was seen in 1969) to creature the machine that would destroy the threat.
This motley group met this disturbance, who took champions in the form of Nogbad the Bad, The Black Nadger and others far more foul than even that. The distubance, believed to be a incarnation of the Devil, was eventually defeated but-
THESE NOTES ARE INDECIPHERABLE AT PRESENT.
-The cost was far too severe for the Vicar as well, for he was cursed to die a early death, and so every other vicar would also die horrible and painful deaths in the due course, no matter whether they were good or bad. The curse has supposedly come true, as nearly every second vicar following Stone has died a rather unusual death. But unusual still is the weapon that Catweazle invented, left and forgotten by the group as they made their escape, with the ringing of the devil's angry cries in their ears.
It's name was Lady.