Thursday, July 23, 2015

Post 130

Good morning, blog readers.  After much thought, I've decided to post one of my short stories.  It's just a little something I wrote a year ago and when reading it just now, I found it interesting. 

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She arrived on the 12 o'clock train heading south. Nothing in her hands except a suitcase and handbag with gloves sticking out as if wanting to see where they were going. She had her hair in a bun, her body in a casual black dress, and her feet in tan high-heeled shoes which clomped as she walked across the train station.

The train soon tooted its horn, blasting all human ears by echoing through the long, low station, and departed, filling half the room with smoke and dust that sat in the air with no place to go. Everyone hurried away as the humid heat rose in the building. Sweat was easy to come by and everybody got his fair share of it. She was no exception. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck.  She refused to let it bother her and walked forward, in the direction the train had left. She was heading straight for the unsettled dust.

As I observed her walk and attitude towards life—or what life of hers I saw—she seemed not to mind the little cloud of unwelcomed dust before her. I could only wonder what her story was. Maybe she came from a broken home. Her parents might have disowned her for some mystery of a reason. Or maybe she had just lost a very dear friend and had come to live with some family member who was old and lonely. She might have lost a lover in the war and couldn't stand her home town without him. She could be in search of a husband and family of her own. Could she be a traveling lady just out for an adventure to this new state. Would she find what she was looking for? Would she find out her new quest was to figure out the deepest secret of the town? Maybe she was a detective; she did act as if she knew where she was going.

I sat there in pure suspense and kept my mind spinning with ideas about the lady's reason for arriving here in my home town. For my town is nothing like the big cities or small country towns. My town is between. People don't like to stay very long, or if possible, they won't stay at all. It's the town in which the townspeople know who all is a friend and who will make fun of their home.

My eyes returned from dream land of making up stories about the lady and I found her to be reaching the dust at last. I got one good look before she was lost in the envelope of smoke and dust combined. I suppose I'll never find out what became of the lady. I have yet to see her walk the sidewalks of our town or have dinner at the only café in town, and a girl's got to eat you know. My guess is that the little lady in the station is long gone and was just a passer-through, not a true friend, for like they say, only true friends stay in this town.

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Tune in next week for the woman's point of view.  : )

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