Caitlin Wiffler ‘28
A Different Woman
The wind whipped her already frozen face as she scanned the opaque atmosphere; biting and bleak was the scene. She attempted to wrap herself with her shawl (Super Puff), but her hands were nearly numb from the chill. She made the treacherous journey from her log cabin (Wheeler Hall) to the local tavern (Kimball Hall). There was a community gathering (General Tso’s Night) scheduled for 5:30 pm, where she planned to meet a gentleman caller (Translation not found).
She kept on trudging through what was once snow, now underneath a layer of rain, which had frozen within seconds, to create what she was referring to as “sludge.” As she braced herself, she was met by a mysterious man on a horse (snowplow), covering the sludge with pounds and pounds of salt. The woman thought that he must have seen her; she swore he had made eye contact with her. Much to her dismay, the woman was shot repeatedly by the man’s salt musket (salt spreader), which led her to take a wrong step onto the ice. What happened next was an act of despair: the woman’s arms flew into the air, followed by a movement that replicated her father’s watermill (a giant wheel that spins slowly) – if her father’s watermill spun at 30 miles per hour.
A mutter of “God, I hope I don’t slip” (real quote said in the year 2025) preceded her balance regaining and thankfully, the man on the horse (snowplow) left her to shoot another victim. Luckily, she wasn’t terribly injured, but her shoes were sopping wet. She continued on her journey, but was met with another barrier: the town’s giant and only set of cobblestone steps (Dinand steps) were not only covered in slippery sludgy ice, but were completely blocked by a perilous mountain of snow (such perilous mountains of snow still exist today. For further information, visit the Dinand steps). Once more, she mustered the courage to step little by little. The wind was still another villain blocking her route; for every step she took, she was blown away a centimeter. With patience and fortitude, she made it through. Eventually, the steam from the tavern was in her vision. She had made it.
Alas, she underestimated the dangers of the ice outside of taverns. It seemed as though the man on the horse failed to cover the tavern’s perimeter with salt, and the owner of the tavern was inside, unaware of the vicious exterior. The woman took one of her last steps on her path, and her foot slid on the sheet of ice, followed by her hands flying in the air once more. Her other foot was no match for momentum: she fell back and yelled “WOAHWOAHWOAH” as she met her fate. She was the laughing stock of the town. Safe to say everyone lost a bit of respect for her there.
Featured image courtesy of Google Images
Copy Edited by Annamaria DeCamp ’27
Leave a Reply