Transitions

The train rattled into the station. She looked out the window at the building withwhich housed the officials, noting absently the dilapidated appearance of the façade. She wrinkled her nose slightly as the sight appalled her and returned her attention to the carriage in front of her. It wasn't much more of a sight; the backs of the chairs stared back at her, randomly filled with peoples heads nad other large piles of hair. She had been driven from the city by force. Had she had a choise she would have remained there in her apartment with all her things around her. Unfortunately the man had taken her choises from her and removed her possessions and eventually tossed her out of the apartment onto the streets below. It had left her little to nothing to do, but to return to the one place she knew that no one would turn her away.
Her mother lived... her family lived in the middle of the country. They had moved there without her after she had left the family home for greener pastures and to get away from her annoying stepfather and the village shopkeeper. She had never been told the reasons for their move, but lkater had never wanted to know as her aprubt exit had created a rip in family relations. Her mother had attempted to stitch the rip, with a few well meaning invites to the new home in the country, whjich had been politely rebuffed.
Those few tenuous stitches were why she made her way down ot the new house now. It being the only option she had. She did not relish being back under the roof with the same stepfather who had driven her from the only home she had known then. But her mother had been had always been blind when it came to the vitures and faults of the love of her life and as a child there had been no chance for a word in edge wise
She fingered her stylish, well manicured cut. It had been cultivated for a long time as well as the speech and the careful way of dressing. It had been a good idea to move into the type of society she had wanted. The type of society which had helped her gain her job and her apartmet and move her into a way of living that she had never known before. It had been the society which had triggered this transition back to the land, the culture of her roots, with it's money, it's drugs and addictions.
The train jarred to a halt at the station. Looking out the window, she read the name on the station bulding, slowly climbing to her feet. She could almost feel the years of city living sliding from her body as she slowly walked towards the door. Closing her eyes she felt the wind brush away her independence, her years of separation. She could see them waiting on the platform. The heavy build of the stepfather and she winced. She wished this had not been a choice that she had needed to make. She wished she did not have to live under his thumb.
She was an independent woman. She was an independent woman.
She stepped from the train, listened to her mother's cry of delight and watched her stepfather move forward with her.
She had been an independent woman.
Her shoulders slumped. Her eyes dropped. She had never been a confident woman.

Scrub up.

The train rattled into the station. She looked from the window of the carriage to the building which housed the officials, noting absently the dilapidated appearance of the façade.

Wrinkling her nose slightly as the sight stung her fine sensibilities, she returned her attention to the carriage in front of her. It was not appealing, the backs of chairs with the random and odd piles of hair signalling other passengers.


She had been driven from the city into this train. Had she a choice, she would have remained in her apartment with its evaporative cooling and modern furniture. Unfortunately they had taken her choices from her, removing her possessions and finally her home, tossing her out onto the streets in front of her apartment. It had left her with nothing to do but to return to the one place she knew that no one would turn her away.

Her mother, rather, her family lived in the middle of the country. They had moved there without her after she had left the bosom of the family for greener pastures earlier. She had left to get away from her annoying stepfather and the local shopkeeper. She had never been privy to the reasons for their move, but had not wanted the inevitable defensive explanation. Her departure had caused a rip in the family relations which had only recently been repaired. Her mother had attempted to stitch the rip with a few well meaning invites to the new family home. They had been politely rebuffed, but the invites stood.

Those few tenuous stitches had precipitated her removal to the country, as the only other options had been unpalatable to her sensibilities and pride. She did not relish the move back under the roof with the same stepfather who had driven from that home. However, her mother had always been blind when it came to both the virtues and faults of the love of her life and as a child there had been no chance for rebuttal.

She fingered her stylish, well manicured cut. It had been cultivated for a long time, that and her speech and mannerisms, as well as a carefully, stylish way of dressing. It had been a good idea at the time to move into a type of society that her mother and stepfather would never have entrance too. The type of society which had enabled her to gain her job and swanky apartment, pushed her into a way of living she had never experienced before.

It had been the society which had triggered the downward spiral, the transition back to her roots with its money, drugs and addictions.

The train jarred to a halt.

Looking out the window, she read the name plate on the station house. Sighing, she climbed to her feet. She could almost feel the years of city living sliding from her body and soul as she moved towards the train doors. Closing her eyes she felt the wind brush away the cultivated separation from this life. She could see them waiting on the platform. She could see him.

She wished this had not been a choice she had been forced to make. She knew both sides of the coin now.

She was an independent woman.

She was an independent woman...

She stepped through the doors, hearing her mother's cry of delight. Her stepfather moved towards her.

Her shoulders slowly slumped. Her eyes dropped.

She had never been a confident woman.

She had been an independent woman.