Crafted by angels - Chapter 1

She stumbled off the train, everything was nothing but a blur. Where is number 10? She could see 11, 13, 10 must be across the street; but where is it? She was feeling faint, knowing she was malnourished and hadn’t eaten a single hot meal in days. Her stomach was angry for it. A nice, warm, soft meal. But she had to find number 10. The weight on her shoulders was starting to dig in. Why don’t they speak English here? Her mind was adrift, pangs shot through her abdomen telling her she needed to lie down. Maybe they will know in this shop, she says to herself. But wait, a lady is outside unlocking a door.

“Excuse me, miss, do you know this address?” She shows the lady her phone.

The lady nods and indicates a small piece of paper on the side of the building. Ahah! There it is. Number 10.

 

The lady indicates up the stairs; and she groans..her stomach was shooting daggers within. But she has to climb up. She has no choice. Up the steps she goes, looking for a similar sign like the one she saw downstairs. Ah..there it is. But it’s quite a climb up. Maybe she’ll only stay here one night.

 

She tries her hand on the door, it won’t open. She tries again. It’s locked. Cursing under her breath, shifting the weight about her shoulders, she tries again. A scuffle on the other side is heard. The slide of the lock, and the door opens. It was locked? She made up her mind not to stay beyond one night. She hated it there. She would leave and never come back. Another shooting dagger rips from within. She winces.

 

A dapper, quick-footed man greets her. He is tending to another person. Great. She has to wait. That’s another dime in the not-staying bank. She sits down, and he starts running about after the earlier guest. She sits down, unhappy, feeling decidedly heavy footed and light headed at the same time. When was the last time I had a proper meal? She couldn’t recall.

“..so could you recommend any good, cheap places to eat around here?”

“mm hmm mm hmm..there’s a place down the street around the corner……..bla bla bla”

 

Hurry up already...she screams in her head. I just want to check in, lie down, and leave tomorrow morning. You can talk about baked potatoes afterwards!

 

“….anything off the beaten path you can suggest?”

 

“errr….well, perhaps ou could try blab la bla…”

 

Did he just say “off the beaten path”? That’s just from the travel blogs and he’s just throwing it about….soooooo lame.

 

She knew she was being bitter, grumpy, and entirely in a terrible mood. But she didn’t care. She was tired, hungry, and in a lot of pain. Unfortunately it was none of anyone’s concern. Great.

 

Finally the man finishes up with the man and sends them on their way to their room. He turns to her. He checks her in, brings her on a tour of the place (well that’s new, they didn’t do that in the other places), and tells her they have a little kitchen. There’s tea and coffee she was free to make for herself. Hot tea!

 

“….so here’s the…..and the tea and coffee….”

“Can I use the teabags and such?”

“Yeah, it’s all free, it’s all good…”

 

Ok, maybe it’s not so bad after all..

 

Finally he deposits her into her room, and she starts scattering things around. She was never good at packing, or at clearing things away. She finally gives up, tries to look at the map and figure out if she wanted to go anywhere in particular, but realizes she’s in too much pain to do so. She plops her head onto the pillow and tries to shut her eyes; but the shooting pains come again. She scrambles for her meds. I’m sooo glad I have you with me. Imagine having to crawl in search of a pharmacy in this pain.

 

At this rate, she figures, there’s no way she would be fit to travel the next day. If it meant staying in and just resting the next day, it would be better than stumbling into foreign streets again tomorrow.

 

I have to get up and tell him I need a bed for tomorrow night..

She commands her body to get up, but it would not obey.

Ok, maybe after a nap it will be better. She dozes off..

 

**beep** **beep** **beep**

 

Is it six o’clock already? She forces herself up; her legs unstable. Groggily, she makes her way to the reception. An astounding 20 feet away. It felt like miles on her unfed body.

 

“So, if I wanted to stay on another night, do you have a bed for me?” she asks the man at the reception.

“Let me check..mm hmm mm hmm…”

He does that often..she notes.

“Yes, there is a bed. Would you like it?”

“Yes, I will have to stay one more night. And could you check for the following night as well?”

“Mm hmm mm hmm….yes, mm hmm mm hmm…yes, but it’s a bit more expensive as it is the weekend, but I can give you a discount. Would you like to book it?”

“For tomorrow night, yes. But the following night I’ll get back to you. Not sure yet.”

“Mm hmm mm hmm…no problem. Just let me know as soon as you can since there aren’t so many beds left.”

“Alright. Now could you point me in the direction of the nearest grocery store?”

“Mm hmm mm hmm…just go down, take a left, then to the main street. Cross the road, and there you are.”

She plodded down the staircase, out into the street. It wasn’t so cold for a change. She easily found the grocery store. It’s a chain hypermarket she recognizes. It is meaningless, but it comforts her somehow.

“The grocery department is below”

The voice of the dapper quick-footed receptionist echoes in her head. She heads down. Food. She needs food.

She quickly makes her way down, only to realize that finding what she can eat will not be as easy. None of it was written in a language she remotely understood. Even pictures weren’t very helpful.

Bread and cheese. That will make for some carbs and proteins. It goes into the basket.

Now, something warm.

The shooting pains weren’t as spiteful towards her, but she knew it would return once she got back to Number 10.