![\"horizontal-36856_6402\"](\"https:\/\/alphawriters.net\/new\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/09\/horizontal-36856_6402.png\")
<\/a><\/p>\nOriginal 700-word Story:<\/h3>\n
Half dozing in the hot afternoon sun as the train pulled into Warminster station,\u00a0my eyes hazily watched the ordinary conventional folk going about their leisurely\u00a0business on a Sunday.<\/p>\n
My eyes suddenly focused on one who was different. A tall woman, with the weight\u00a0to go with it, and more. She wore a white summer dress, adorned with a pattern of\u00a0large red and orange broad brush strokes.<\/p>\n
It was neither her size nor her dress which I noticed, but the brash confidence\u00a0in her movement, which caught my attention. She strode up to the front of the\u00a0carriage, got on, looked around and got off again. I resumed dozing as the train\u00a0gently moved forward.<\/p>\n
At Westbury, as the scheduled two-minute stop stretched into three, I saw the ticket collector was involved with an occupant apparently sitting on the luggage\u00a0bench: not so much a discussion, but a noisy altercation like boxers probing and\u00a0searching for opponent\u2019s weaknesses.<\/p>\n
As the ticket collector stepped back, the occupant assumed her full sitting height and became identifiable as the woman from Warminster station.<\/p>\n
The ticket inspector left and returned with a colleague (wearing a luminous jacket)\u00a0for Round Two began.\u00a0 Battle cries emanated from the mixture of the navy blue, lime\u00a0 green and the garish brush-daubs.<\/p>\n
“I bought a ticket,” she shouted, “and somebody stole it.”<\/p>\n
“That\u2019s not the point, madam,” said the collector, “you are not allowed on this\u00a0train without a valid ticket.”<\/p>\n
“I bought a ticket,” she stormed, “and it was stolen. I\u2019m not getting off the\u00a0train.”<\/p>\n
“This train won\u2019t be moving until you get off,” said the ticket inspector.<\/p>\n
The dispute continued, she aggressively making claim of innocent victim status,\u00a0the men parried them calmly with repeated comments and refusals. Impasse reigned at\u00a0the end of the round. A third man arrived, who may have been the Westbury\u00a0stationmaster, and he attempted to persuade her to leave the train.<\/p>\n
Round Three was certainly an all-action highlight of the contest. The aggressive\u00a0innocence became charged with obscenities and words that I don\u2019t think I\u2019ve heard\u00a0before. The stationmaster warned her that such vocabulary was most definitely not allowed: it seemed to be in the same category as low punches.<\/p>\n
But the stationmaster wasn\u2019t an impartial referee, and this raised the temperature\u00a0 even more. Profanities were rejected as a sole weapon, so a good straight right fist\u00a0was followed by a swinging left with a shopping bag. The manual worker appeared to\u00a0 ride the punch so that very fortunately her full weight had little effect. Adept\u00a0ducking ensured that the bag did not make contact.<\/p>\n
As the round ended, the railway employees withdrew and she turned on us, her spectators. We were treated to a diatribe along the lines of\u00a0 “All you rabble lot,\u00a0you don\u2019t want to help. I\u2019ve got my rights to be here. They won\u2019t put me off the\u00a0train!” I\u2019ve had to edit the words, but they were the sentiments. They didn\u2019t reach\u00a0the standard of Muhammed Ali, though one suspects they served the same purpose in\u00a0building the hype.<\/p>\n
The stationmaster re-appeared, and told her that there would be another train to\u00a0Bath in an hour, and that she could catch that. That would give them time to sort\u00a0out the ticket problem.<\/p>\n
“Deliberately delaying a train is an offence,” he informed her, and waving his hand towards the rest of the carriage, “all these passengers are\u00a0suffering”. Well, some may have been suffering, but at least it was entertaining.<\/p>\n
Surprisingly, she rose to her feet and glared around at the rest of us, and got\u00a0off, albeit with reluctance and defiance radiating from her. She walked to the\u00a0nearest platform bench and determinedly sat down, the sun seemingly highlighting her\u00a0bright dress. She glared at the train, directly at me, as I looked out of the window\u00a0as we left Westbury ten minutes late.<\/p>\n
I heard the announcements as we drew into Bath Station.\u00a0 “The train to Cardiff via\u00a0Bristol is ten minutes late. Wessex Trains apologise for the late running of this\u00a0service.”<\/p>\n
New passengers joined the train, and I definitely heard one of them say, “Late\u00a0train again. I wonder what it was this time – Wrong kind of heat, I expect!”<\/p>\n
They were nearer the truth than they imagined.<\/p>\n