About Me

My photo
An Individual who is passionately in love with the immortal poetry of Nature. One who is striving towards the attainment of spiritual harmony.

Saturday, October 2, 2010

Fable of a Cumbrian Lass

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 15; the fifteenth edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.
Year 1864
The Lake District in the North Pennines Area abounds in natural beauty and exotic landscapes. The village, on the confluence of South Tyne, is remote and sparsely populated. It is surrounded by some of the highest fells in the Pennine Chain, those which water the great trio of northern rivers, the Tyne, Wear and Tees.
Alston, at an altitude of a thousand feet is said to be the highest market town in England. The rugged and diverse land of Alston Moor is rich in mineral wealth and, therefore, the richest lead mining areas have been set up there. A single line stretches from Alston Station in Cumbria to Kirkhaugh in Northumberland, carrying passengers who earn their bread from the flourishing mines.
In a small village near the Moor, lived Angela, a divine beauty, a wondrous art of nature, those angelic eyes, luscious lips, golden brown locks and saintly nature- a stark contrast to her impoverished household, having debilitated parents and languid siblings.
A despondent damsel, Angela, on her lonesome way to the fields for routine chores, used to spend some time sitting on the benches of Alston Station, waiting for the steam engine to arrive at sharp seven in the morning.
She observed the swarm of the boisterous mob who came from the neighbouring villages of Blagill and Ayle, to work in the mines.
The cacophony of wheels and unfettered discourses of that particular hour invigorated her dull spirits, illumined her bleak existence. She felt some capacity for hope which provided her with a sense of destination and the energy to get started for the day.
A mid-September morning, the rain had been coming in bits and starts, sometimes it sprinkled, sometimes it showered and at times it thrashed along so thick with a blast of wind. At quarter past seven, after the usual crowd almost vacated the station, Angela rose languorously from her seat to proceed, when suddenly, she collided with a violent rusher, her lunch pack scattering all its belongings. 
With annoyance, she looked at the stranger, her eyes meeting his, for the first time. One could hear the roar of thunder in the northern sky, followed by heavy downpour. A very shabby and dirty ruffian, staring at her, a heavenly beauty against scrofulous society. He stood in awe-struck wonder.
The first encounter was like the realization of an imagination that had always haunted her. She felt a kind of inner tranquillity from her succeeding passions. While he was helping her to collect the strewed items from the ground, she felt the touch of his coarse hands, the first ever virile stroke on her delicate soul.
As for him, his mind was set aflame. A winged fairy took him out of his ignominious domain and flew him to the moonlit orchards in an infinitesimal fairy land, to shower upon him amorous propositions to mark an entree into a delightful world of love, which, he was so far, unaware of.


“Hurry up Ellison”, a voice called from behind, “we’re getting late for work. The gate will be shut and we have to spend the day out in the cold, and there is no train down till evening”. It was Jennie, a fellow passenger.


Their reverie was fragmented into pieces. He jerked back to staunch reality, but couldn’t take his eyes off Angela, a look eloquent with compassion. In his twenty-two years, he had never encountered such a celestial beauty.
The rain beat on her head like silver liquid drops.
She, too, wished to hold him back for some time, wanting to speak, but he instantly rushed out of the station.
The mischievous Cupid’s arrow pierced through the hearts of Ellison and Angela. Their insignificant existence made them feel an innate need for redundant love.  Their impatience translated itself into an urge for mutual possession.                                                 
Arrival of the regular train marked the dawn of a new era. At the station, met daily, the lovable duo, welcoming the thunder and lightning with a sweet exchange of smile, a shy look of hesitance, a pre-meditated approach followed by a blithesome saunter to the workstation.

They passed through the lush green steeps, the cobbled streets, the hidden courtyards and the quaint old shops, with the accompaniment of the melodious note of the moorland birds. Even during his days of rest, he came just to meet her, to be united in the lonesome valleys, amidst the sweet essence of alpine flowers.

Her features were like a poet’s lyrical artistry, which filtered into his mind. The look in her eyes entrapped his desire to be devoured in totality. She could feel the pulse of his allurement and reciprocated with tantamount eagerness. The splendour of the intoxicated touch of lips, the holy fornication of virgin souls, each approach was a unique exploration of mind and body, the absolutely inseparable entities.
The valleys and shores reverberated with the convivial atmosphere at their union - the happiest couple ever, longing to be tied forever in matrimonial sermon. Seeking the blessings of the Almighty, he vowed to marry her in the succeeding year, after the Twelfth Night celebration of Christmas.
The third week of December, the festive fervour was obviously apparent among the villagers. The market place was over-crowded with vibrant multitude. He promised to meet her there, to offer her a Christmas gift, the first Christmas that she ever anticipated to celebrate after nineteen years of her birth. She was overjoyed with enthusiasm and was anxiously waiting for her beloved.
She waited all day, watching the frenzied crowd squandering with excitement. With the fall of evening, despair of the world grew in her again. She became weary with anxiety and fear. The concluding day brought to her mind the unconquerable premonition of an abominable weather.
Unfortunately, Ellison had not arrived. With a heavy heart, she marched homeward, expecting to see him the following day. Six days elapsed in utter disbelief and worriment. Amidst the jubilant masses, she sat alone at a corner, without the sight or sound of beauty, contemplating the mysterious absence of Ellison. There was still no trace of him, nor anyone at the station knew about his whereabouts. She was desperate. Her spirit grew numb with the fear of the unknown. She bitterly sobbed.
It was the seventh day of her consistent presence at the station during the morning rush hours. The usual crowd resumed work after the celebration. Ellison was not to be found anywhere.
 A pathetic figure she was, hovering around the platform every day, with the single hope that Ellison would certainly keep his promise. With the lapse of time, her faith in him gradually germinated a powerful resistance to impending jeopardy. As she rose from her seat, she felt two amicable hands firmly gripping her shoulders. She turned around to recognize a familiar face. It was Jennie, Ellison’s friend and co-passenger who worked in the mines. She drew closer to Angela.
With dolorous eyes she gazed at Angela’s intent countenance, stretched her arms to embrace the wretched woman. With a morose and stammering voice she mourned the stupefying tragedy of Ellison’s untimely demise by a fatal accident, just the day preceding their meeting at the marketplace.
The sky was overcast by dark, ‘noctilucent’ clouds. The archfiend seized her blissful world in an instant. Perhaps her meeting with Ellison was just a chimera. She stood still with eyes tumescent, lips parched and gaped. Jennie’s voice jerked her out of  trance.
She said that when his incapacitated body was brought to the village, he was breathing his last. He significantly uttered Angela’s name to convey that she must accomplish his last wish.
His death was not the end, but an entry to the empyrean world of immortality. His heavenly abode would be illuminated with her incessant smile. Though they were corporeally disunited, yet his spiritual self was embedded in her being. His everlasting love would be her protective shield forever.
Jennie then lifted a small packet out of a sooty bag. She unfolded the wrap, holding up a glittering metal of gold, a wedding ring, the Christmas gift for Angela.
Having placed the ring on her shivering palm, she kissed Angela’s frosted forehead and reluctantly proceeded towards the mines, leaving behind the crestfallen damsel in petrified quiescence.
The fellow Blog-a-Tonics who took part in this Blog-a-Ton and links to their respective posts can be checked here. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton.




25 Obiter Dicta:

The Fool said...

Created the setting nicely along with nice flow and language.

Amity said...

A love story in the line of 'a long and lasting love'...and the epilogue sums up the beautiful but poignant love story...

Very nice narration too and a colorful one, so vivid and so pure!

Wishing you all the best! :)

Rumya said...

Beautiful love story, Cherry Blossom.
You have a rich vocabulary which you have used well to narrate so vividly a poignant tale. It leaves one with a heavy heart.
You have also taken great trouble to describe the exact location of the town in the South Tyneside area.
Made an excellent read :)

Md. Muddassir Shah said...

now that is a power packed article, thorough research about alston to start with, apporpraite wordings, good story line, wonderful pictures and a super epilogue (a poem)

You have great talent CherryBlosson, you ll go a long way :)

Good luck with BATOM for now

riikainfinityy.com said...

Beautiful setting and nice background, love your work =P~ It seems like I am there myself XD

Good luck for BAT15 :D~~

Cherry Blossom said...

Thank you @ The Fool, Amity, Rumya, Md. M. Shah. Riik...for the inspirational analysis of my expression of love in its purity. I appreciate your comments and wishes.

Someone Is Special said...

This is a delightful cherry for us to taste.. A full package.. I loved your epilogue very very much.. Wishing you good luck for the contest..

--Someone Is Special--

Cherry Blossom said...

@ SIS
This cherry can only blossom with delightful comments from her admirers like you all. I am glad you liked the conclusion. Thank you.

Vee... said...

there is a poetic touch to the words you wrote! great post. and i can sense the effort that went it to - in researching the names and places, and in making those images. great effort and great work :)

Sidra Sayeed said...

tragedy and love always seems to leave a frown on my face and perhaps that's true for almost anyone. Hope plays a key role in your story and yes sometimes it is the very hope that holds us together but if lost also has the capacity to undo our being. I definitely enjoyed reading it.

D2 said...

Once again, a beautifully written story. I love how your writing is so vivid. The story itself is breathtaking. I loved it.
All the best for the BAT.
:)

Brijender Singh said...

Holy crap,what an amazing use of vocabulary.
Have to admit that the dictionary was right beside me all through while i was reading it and not once did i come across an instance when your choice of words wasnt just brilliantly apt !
Needless to say, the choice of words complements a perfect storyline.
Only regret is that it leaves a lump in the throat at the end-might we ask that you leave a smile on our faces next time around? :)

Vaish said...

brilliant use of vocabulary, and the words just churn effortlessly into your post, adding great emotions! And the Epilogue is a feast for your readers!! Great job!! All the best for BAT!! I'm sure you win!!

reetam said...

lovely story. your writing style has got a very old world feel about it. like 19th century british literature. loved the overall effect. great job!

Prathi said...

Good work Cherry... In your style of writing and with the expression of your words, you are taking us to the station along with Ellison and Angela and telling us more about the love that last for years and years.....
All the best...
Keep it up...

Cherry Blossom said...

@ Vee
Thank you Vee for your kind words. Yeah, it was a little bit of expansion of my geographical knowledge, and I have learnt a lot about the place too.

@ Sidra S
We can only hope for a good living and its this hope that keeps us moving, irrespective of the mishaps.

@ D2
I tried my best to take my story back to the 19th century and speak through the characters. I dont know how much I am successful in doing it, but your words and appreciation are my inspiration. Thanks.

@ Brijender
Look who's talking about vocabulary! The same dictionary serves my purpose when I go through your posts. For a moment, I was a bit confused about the word 'crap', but as I read through your comment, it was clear. I'll try to keep the advise of a maestro, that is to leave a smile on my reader's faces on my next attempt. Thanks for analysing my post so vividly.

@ Vaish
Whether I win or not, thats least important but your words and appreciation has already declared me a winner. Thank you so much and welcome to my blog.

@ Reetam
Since my story is based on the 19th century England, and during the year when Alston station was built, I tried to style my writing to those days. I am glad that my little effort is appreciated. Thanks.

@ Prathi
Thanks for your kind words.

Brijender Singh said...

What better recompense can there be for an author than to find appreciation for not just their words but beyond those words as well.
Am glad to have made ur acquaintance n hope to see more of you around.

NewsMan BaBa said...

Colourful! Nice narration.. All d best

vEnKy said...

hmm Okay here's what i think. Since everyone out here have pointed out the positives i need not say them once again.

I am not a great fan of sobbing love stories to start with (thats a personal bias :-P) and I think the narration was good. What i felt was it was too descriptive and the details given about Alston at the top, you could nicely slid them through in the story rather than write a separate para about it. I felt the story was very simple but the narrative profound. It would have been nice if it was the other way.

All said and none nice one nonetheless!!!

Cherry Blossom said...

Any kind of criticism, I welcome with open arms, for its the best way to improve your skills. Well, to start with, I know that the description of Alston could have been blended into the narrative, like how you have done and its a very modern approach to the script. I planned it likewise because my story is set in the 19th century. But surely I'll keep your advise in mind and also for the story line which could have been more profound than the narrative. I appreciate your honest approach. Thanks.

vEnKy said...

Hey i think you didn't read the whole story, There was some problem and the second of the post after the read more text got deleted please do read it now and give your thoughts. Thanks in advance :-P

A Restless Mind With A Sensitive Heart! said...

CB, very touching post. somewhere it reminded me of the poem "solitary reaper", we read in our text books...about the solitary highland lass.

very well written!

all the best!

RESTLESS

Anonymous said...

Simple love story yet beautifully entwined with the times and description of the place....sketches are wonderful.
Thank you Cherry Blossom.

Raksha Raman said...

Phew! Better late than never for I'd so have regretted not reading the post before casting my vote! How on earth did I miss reading your post?!! I'm wondering........

Nonetheless, now that I'm here, I can't help but appreciate the careful selection of words that makes your narration gripping and powerful. It is profound, to say the least.

The description of Alston is lovely,just the way it ought to be considering the history of the little town.

About the story, well life works in mysterious ways and sometimes its better not to dig deep to understand why certain events occur though they put us through a lot of suffering. Life's ways! Sigh!

You have won not just my vote but my admiration too :) Cheers!

HWHT said...

I doubt that how can some one write such a beautiful love story in such a beautiful, precisely selected words. But I cannot doubt as the story is in front of me.
I am not a literature person but honestly this story just touched somewhere my heart. Wish you all the best for your article and hope to see some more articles/ stories from you.