A Nikolas Story: Part I

One unremarkable day in late Spring, a surly, greyed, perhaps even dour little Nikolas hopped his way towards my doorstep, jauntily bouncing down and crunching the stone pathway in the manner of the sun's rays glimmering on the lawn, splashing in the air like a terrible sturgeon, his scales opalescent, flopping so absurdly that for a second I almost felt what seemed like pity for the poor Nikolas, and eventually arrived at his endeavoured destination. He wore upon him, along with his aged wool waistcoat, dead brown trousers and cracked leather shoes, a nearly tangible air of hopelessness and despair. Upon approaching my door, he bid me a dubiously cheerful hullo, and flashed his business card, which were printed on thin, yellow paper, which, if anything, mirrored perfectly the state of his soul at the present. Then suddenly, with neither provocation nor just cause, he sprang to life, his countenance shone radiantly, his sullen manner now unquestionably animated, and even his pallid colour seemed, at least for a fleeting moment, to increase in hue and saturation. As he spoke, the words he uttered so resounded in my being as to be a crash of thunder, but magnified a thousandfold.

"Sir! I need a womon."

"Dear God," I breathed.

It was nearly four years ago this very day. The sempiternal day which will remain in my memory until the instant when all matter ceases to be, and existence itself is wiped off.

It was the summer of 1834. I stood outside my small shop in Bradfordshire, tending the little trinkets on the windowsill; I, as well as everyone else knew the inherent worthlessness of those small toys, and yet, their popularity with the town folk never ceased to amaze me. I glanced at the local times--recent abolition of slavery. Hmph! What would it matter to me and this small town? We all knew life would go on, as it always had, in all honesty, there were no slaves to be heard of in this area for as long as it had existed. None of this could have any consequence on my inner thoughts. At that moment, nothing in the material world itself could remove me from my mental concentrations--for at that moment, I saw the womon.

To be continued...

Author's Note: In case you haven't figured it out by now, this takes place in England.