A3-5 | A Sodor Horror Story

Sunday, August 6th, 1978. | Town Of Peel Godred

Tick...

Tock...

Tick...

Tock...

11:32 AM, the Town of Peel Godred.

Bert rose tiredly from his messy bed. As usual, he first rubbed his eyes and looked around to see if something changed in his environment. Of course, nothing had changed in the few hours of sleep he got. His Apartment was still in disarray, paperwork and beer bottles scattered across the floor, clinging together as if they were an instrument of music.

Not wanting to continue to look at his messy apartment he cranes his tiredly to look outside the rectangular window. Other Apartments partially obscured his view, but in the distance, he could see the Peel Godred Nuclear Power Plant. The very place he works at. The plant had been constructed in the 1940s during a time when more power was needed than ever before for the war efforts. It has been originally constructed to produce Plutonium-239 for the British Military for use in Bombs and other war goods. At the time, it was one of the largest NPPs in all of Great Britain and the only one in Sodor.  Its 3 Magnox reactors were imported from the UK, and the plant was built rather hastily. Only more recently, in 1964 the old Magnox's were replaced by Sodors' very own reactors, homebuilt here!

Anyways, there isn't enough time to dwell on the facility. In summary, it was powerful but had a rather boring, or glum atmosphere. Bert soon raised from his bed and forced himself to get dressed, eat some toast and drink tea before heading on outside the boring grey slab known as his apartment. When he stepped outside his neighbour, James greeted him.

"Oh, hello Bert! You're up rather late."

"Tch, I know that James."

Bert said, being rather grumpy.

"Alright alright, You needn't be so rude. . ."

With nothing more to say, both James and Bert went their separate ways.
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12:13, Callendale.

George layed in bed in his room. The ceiling fan spun overhead, giving the unwell man some comfort in this time of need. Everything was rather quiet, say for the monotonous sound of the clock ticking back and forth. To be honest, it was the only thing keeping him entertained. His wife, Juliette was away at work leaving the only company for the poor man was his old dog whom he loved dearly. On the bedrest beside him, was a framed picture of his dear engine, Douglas.

For the entirety of the duration of George being bound to his bed, the aforementioned pet kept him company while simply sleeping in his lab, Enjoying the presence of George. After a few more hours of laying in bed, the young man eventually fell asleep happily.
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12:13, Norramby.

The distant sound of sirens wailing woke up the small village as several fire engines raced by in a blur. At the head of Fire Engine No.12 was Eddie Carter, an experienced man who has been working with the force for over 12 years now. As he navigated the winding roads of Norramby, Eddie's mind raced with the possibilities of what could be causing such a commotion. He had seen his fair share of emergencies in his time as a firefighter, but there was something about the urgency of this call that gave him an uneasy feeling. As he rounded the corner onto Main Street, he could see a thick plume of smoke rising in the distance, and his heart sank. This was going to be a big one. With a deep breath, he pulled the lever to sound the horn, alerting his team to prepare for action. As Fire Engine No.12 approached the scene, Eddie could see flames licking the sides of a large building on the edge of town. It was the Norramby Community Center, a place that had been the heart of the village for as long as anyone could remember. As Eddie leaped from the engine and began to coordinate his team, he couldn't help but wonder what kind of person would do something like this to a place so beloved by the community...