Dawson Tales

im damn bored and that day i wrote this stupid short story but i wanna share it so here we goooo:


The cold and harsh wind was felt all around the train station as people stood here and there, either waiting for the arival or departure of a train. The breeze did not take predujuice on who it blew against or what it made fly away, all it did was fly freely, reliefing people from this boiling, humid day for mere seconds. And in this array of chaos as hats left their owners, as dresses flew up and as papers were sent aghast, there a sat a young woman, sitting on a rusty old bench by herself, positioned exactly in the middle so that she would be in view of the arrival sign and the large wall clock which hung smartly above the entrance of the station.

Upon her lap sat a wooven basket which she held tightly in her arms. She bit down on her lip, hard. Like someone would do in a nervous situation, she peered around her as if looking for someone or something that seemed to have not arrived. She began to grew more anxious as time passed and began shaking her leg in impatience, but as soon as she realised how unladylike she was acting, she immediately slapped herself and sat up straight, trying to regain the pride she lost as people saw how she behaved.

Worried and more worried she became as even more time passed and she looked at the basket lying in her arms, as if she was trying to burn a hole through it in order to get a peek at its contents. And when she could no longer control her actions, she could not help but lift the lid of the basket and smile at what she saw. She stared at it longingly and slowly tears began to well up in her eyes. They swam in the amber pool and when they could no longer be held, they began to overflow and stream down her face leaving behind marks of make-up.

Once the young woman realised that she had been crying, she promptly closed the lid and removed her handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her face. She blew her nose and branished a mirror, checking her face in order to see whether she looked well and in order. But she couldnt do it, just as she was about to close her mirror, tears began to collect again and continued to trickle down her face. She put her head down, trying to hide her face. But her sadness and tears could not be hidden from the view of a little girl.

The girl stared at her and tilted her head to oneside. She tugged at the bottom of her mother's dress and pointed to the weeping woman. "Mama, mama!" she said, "Why's the pwetty ladeh cwying?" Her mother ignored her, busy talking to a train conductor and questioning him on the situation of her delayed train. The girl, with her doll in tow, walked towards the woman and pulled at the hem of her dress. "Lady, why are you crying?" she said staring at her.

The woman looked up, wiping at her face and trying to recover from her moment of weakness. She turned away from the girl, attempting to remove any sign of her tears. Once she was done, she turned back to the little girl and said with a sigh, " What do you mean?" The girl pouted slightly and continued to stare at the woman, then she said "Why do you cry?" The woman couldnt help but smile at the child's naivity and said, "Well young one , sometimes we have to cry." And just as she finished her sentence, something seemed to catch her eye. She got up, leaving the basket behind her and begun to walk away. "Wait lady, wait! you left your baskeet! And what about my quesion?" the child screamed at her.

The woman turned and gave the child one last smile, "Child, sometimes things in life are left unanswered." and with that the woman walked away, disappearring into the sea of people. Just then, the little girl's mother came up runnning to her and began to scold her as she towed her child towards a train, "Where have you been?" the mother shouted, "I've been worried sick, I thought you were lost!" And as the mother went on about her daughter's misbehaviour, a faint cry could be heard coming from the basket.