Undoing The Done

A Bold Endeavour

The persistent throbbing of her head woke her up. Holding her head in her arms, she stood and sluggishly reached for the nearest seat that she could make out. Slumping on that seat, she patiently waited for the dizziness to subside, after which she attempted to sit up straight.

If the unbearable ache in her head was not enough of a setback to the poor girl, the chill of the weather soon dawned on her frail body and she shuddered from that ruthless exposure. Shivers ran down her spine and she lost her control over the trembling of her limbs.

Her scrawny fingers clenched and unclenched the object in her hands hoping that the movement may lessen the cold, but alas nothing as such happened.

It was only after a long battle against her pounding head and the trembling of her limbs that she found the courage to finally open her eyes. The first thing that her unstable eyesight made out was the object that rested within her gripping fingers. It was a white linen bag, cylindrical and with brown trimmings at its edges. And for the life of her, she couldn't recognize it nor could she remember how it had ended up on her lap.

But so little did she care about propriety—when her body had turned into that of a needy beast in survival mode—that as soon as her mind comprehended the sight before her, she tore into it and dug for anything that would give her any warmth. To her utter relief, she found a thick woollen scarf and in hurried movements wrapped it around herself, revelling in whatever little warmth it provided.

The men and the few women in her vicinity, who were busy in their respective hustle-bustle which cannot be escaped when in a station, spared her critical glances for not only was she without a chaperon, but she was also scantily dressed for the frosty weather. So deep was her agony that none of this came to her notice.

The station contained two, three-storied structures. Under the first one she was seated and the second one was some two hundred feet farther. Between the two of them lay the railway track, presently empty. The extended rooftop under which she sat kept her from the softly falling snow and by and by she steadily gained control over her body.

It was a usual day in the cold February of the year 1863. Most of the men were workers and only a sweatshirt sufficed for their hard-working bodies. The rest were either the youth of the elite class or old men, seldom accompanied by a female relation. The youth of this class were tugged warm in their tailored frock coats, hats and sometimes even with their walking sticks. And the women wore travelling gowns with woollen gloves, bonnets and sufficient clothes unlike the woman of our interest who had only the bare minimum on herself.

When she finally looked around, something akin to panic came over her. She snapped her head from right to left and with every passing moment of comprehension her brows furrowed in hesitance and bewilderment.

The poor woman found her surroundings utterly unfamiliar. From the people to the location, everything seemed strange and unusual to her. She ceased that rapid movement when she noticed it drawing attention as the last thing she wanted was to appear helpless in an unfamiliar place.

Bending her head she did her best to school herself into calmness and tried to solve the puzzle of her presence in this place. The more she tried to reflect on her past, the more an all-consuming fear of something in particular, though unknown, grew in her heart.

This fear was far greater than anything she had ever experienced before. The gravity of it was so much so that she felt herself shrinking under it. Her insides trembled at the mere feeling it brought in her heart.

  She did not know who that thing was, and neither did she understand her fear towards it. But the reflexes of her body said otherwise which made her realize that this reaction cannot mean something insignificant and that whatever or whoever that thing or a person may be, she must protect herself from it at any cost.