The train stopped. It was just a platform in the woods. A windbreak for shelter.
A stout farm wife, saw me.
”Ye look lost. Don’t know ye. Where’s ye going?”
“I’m the new governess at the manor.” I said with pride.
“Wa’manor?” she says, looking puzzled.
“No gentlefolk hereabouts.”
I brought the crested and wax sealed letter out of my pocket.
Instantly, blood drained from her face. She backed away, hustling her family to leave.
No one waited for me. No one left and no one come on the bare platform. For hours.
Just as I thought I’d sleep in the windbreaker. Lights appeared. Lanterns and a man, no taller than a schoolboy, dressed in a dashing steward livery. Who courteously apologized for his late arrival. Carried a food basket. Took me to a crested carriage.
That’s how I became governess to the dwarfs.
I’m currently reading a book of folklore from Britain and Ireland, so I tried to get the same otherworldly feel in this piece as in the tales I’m reading.
Written for Prosery – dVerse’s flash fiction prompt. dVerse is the poetry pub, but once a month we have some fun with prose. For this prompt, we’re asked to write a piece of flash fiction in 144 words or less, including a quotation from a poem.