Life In The Scrap Yard

Sandboxes and Scrap

A teddy bear came into the scrap yard, not the cuddly toy but a class 14, hauling a small train of scrap it trundled over towards the yard manager, standing infront of Paul.

Paul was a little steam engine, he was dark blue, and worked so hard he was rusted through, you could even see some of his old paint that'd re-emerged.

"OI," asked the engine "where you want these?"
"Just over in that siding." The yard manager pointed across. "The points are all set"
The diesel didn't but toot it's horn, before oiling further down, all the while grimacing at Paul.

~————~

"Did you see that old boy?" Paul's driver teased, "a new steam engine friend for you! For you to scrap of course." There had been a small black tender engine in the consist, though it distinctively lacked a funnel.

Paul was mortified! He'd gotten used to scrapping rolling stock, but to see an engine? It was morbid, and what Paul had to do next was grim.

Paul was fired up and ready to run, smoke left his funnel and he started to steam. The diesel ominously rolled out of the yard, and now it was Paul's turn to shunt the scrap train. The thought of an innocent engine being scrapped all because times were changing played on his mind.

~————~

In the scrap yard, the lines dipped toward the buffers to keep trains from rolling out of the sidings, however it would turn out badly for Paul that day.

He was coupled to the truck at the front of the train and started shunting it into the smelters shed, however, the rusty couplings on the truck snapped, and the little momentum it had sent it careening down the yard, down the siding going faster until it smashed into the buffers!

Paul wheezed with surprise and quickly puffed towards the accident site. It was a terrible mess, the buffers were in splinters, and the truck in smithereens.

~————~

But as he got closer his wheels slipped on the oily tracks. He swooshed down and put on his sandboxes, but little to late. Paul slammed into the back of the truck, and sand flew everywhere.

At that same moment, the yard man had been walking infront of the buffers.

He wiped sand from his face and stared furiously at Paul. The engine just sat there wide-eyed.
"I beg your pardon sir, it was an accident, I swear" Paul quivered with fear.
"It better've been..." the yard manager grimaced. "You'd best get back to your shed, we wouldn't want anymore accidents today, would we?"

~————~

It wasn't actually a shed Paul slept in, in fact it was merely a siding with a cheap tin roof above it to keep him from getting even more rusty. The thing is however, the roof had rusted through itself, and now the rain had started to bother Paul, keeping him awake for nights.

He stayed there the rest of the day, there wasn't a lot to do other than take the cutter's torch to some rolling stock.

But that engine. Paul wondered what he could do to save the poor locomotive, it was a fate no engine wanted, so why would Paul help it? Either way, Paul did not want to let that happen.