~The Messenger: The First Task~

That’s what it has to be, I thought walking to work. They have to be talking about the subway on Sixth Street. I could probably go after work.

No, Ishouldn't do that. I have to work the evening shift and I won't get off until eleven or so. That'sthe only thing wrong with a fine dinning restaurant. The hours are realy long!

I pushed open the door to The Diner and walked into the cool dining room. The plush carpet beneath my feet softened my sounds as I walked through the dark red dining room to the two revolving doors on the other side of the room.

As I walked I admired the gleaming china and the fancy wine glasses. They wouldn’t shine that much if it hadn’t been for the crystal chandelier in the center of the room.

I opened the revolving doors only to find the entire staff standing around Lady Lyd who was shushing everyone and looked to be ready to give a speech.

“Everyone, please listen,” she said as the room got quiet. From across the room Shelly gestured for me to come over. I obeyed quickly.

“Hey partner in crime.” she said.

Partner in crime? Yeah right! We hadn’t done anything to rock the boat since we both started working at The Diner! And then I remembered what the Boss had said, your life needs a little spicing up.

“I hope she doesn’t send us home again. I don’t know if I’ll make my car payments this month.” Shelly said bringing me out of my wondering thoughts.

I nodded my head as Lady Lyd said, “Everyone, tonight there is an eighty percent chance of thunderstorms!”

The kitchen silently groaned in unison. “Therefore,” she continued, “I’m going to let all of you off work early. Don’t worry about your wages tonight. You’ll be paid as if you had actually worked.”

My eyebrows flew up. Was she crazy? Paying a full staff for a night that they didn’t even work?

“I think you might make your payment.” I whispered to Shelly who started to grin.

I glanced at my watch as Lady Lyd finished her speech. Four-thirty on the dot, I guess there was going to be time to at least figure out what I was to do.

As we all walked out of the kitchen and flooded the dining room the air was charged with excitement. People all around me were making plans now that they had this Friday evening off. I, however, was silently dreading what I was going to do.

After the Starbucks guy had left I had decided if I wanted him out of my hair and to be done with this nonsense (yeah I was trying to be logical) then I had better go to this address and see or do whatever it was I had to do.

So I piled into the street with the crowd that surrounded me and headed in the opposite direction of the majority of the workers.

I yelled for a cab as the sky above me threatened rain with a low rumble. I better hurry or I’m going to get caught in the storm.

I climbed into the cab and said to the man driving, “Sixth Street please, the entrance to the subway if you can.”

“Yes Ma’am.” The cabbie replied.

And in a few moments I was there. I paid my fare and hopped out as lightning flashed above and another low, but louder, roll of thunder made itself known. Quickly I hurried into the entrance to the subway and then headed down the stairs.

I walked down the flight of stairs quickly. Well actually I was pushed down the stairs but when there was a break in the crowd I pushed out and stood on the sidelines as a subway car screeched to a stop next to the platform.

I don’t usually ride subways because a) I have a subway phobia (okay come on, who doesn’t? Creepy people!) and b) the crowds were crazy!

As soon as the door opened, out pushed a crowd of people while at the same time a crowd pushed in and somehow through a lot of pushing and shoving everyone got where they wanted to go because as the doors closed nobody was left standing alone on the platform.

Except me. And the homeless guy in the corner.

The subway car pulled away and sent a few scraps of paper flying around the platform. There wasn’t much to look at, really. Just the white tiled walls (which were scummy with dirt) with the random red tiles everywhere that were decorated. The platform was concrete and there was a bench and a few trash cans (not that they helped).

So what am I supposed to do? I thought, Maybe I should just leave and figure it out some other time.

But as if the Boss somehow controlled the weather, a loud crash of thunder and the sudden pitter-patter of rain made me realize that I was going home in the rain. I’m going to have to get another cab.

I did feel bad that I didn’t do anything or that I was too blind to see what I was supposed to see, but there wasn’t anything to see!

Or so I thought.

As I turned to go back up the stairs I noticed the wall next to me.

It wasn’t plain like the others. This wall was covered in graffiti. Yes I know what you’re thinking. Oh the girl was touched by the graffiti and now she’s a better person.

But this was totally different.

This graffiti wasn’t just beautiful, it told a story. And I realized that I was approaching the artist at work.

The guy I thought was a homeless guy sleeping was actually a well trimmed teen about eighteen or nineteen. He was concentrating on his wall which he was spraying with a can of paint.

He didn’t even notice me until I said, “Hey.”

He jumped but not before he stopped spraying. He turned to me and said, “Are you a cop?”

I smiled and said, “Nope. “ His tense body relaxed, somewhat.

“Can I help you with something? You already missed the train. The next one comes in about fifteen minutes.”

“Well,” I said bending down to his level, “I was going to ask you about your… uh… graffiti art.”

“What about it?” He asked edgy again.

“How long have you been working on this piece?” He seemed to like it when I called it a piece because he stuck his chest out a little further and said proudly, “For about two weeks.”

“Don’t you have to go to school? What do your parents think?”

His eyes darkened, “I don’t have any parents. They died when I was six. As for school, I graduated when I was seventeen.” He must have seen my next question because he said, “I’m eighteen.”

“I’m sorry about your parents.” I said quietly after a moment of silence.

He nodded and said, “Don’t worry about it.”

I stood and walked to one side of the graffiti wall. “So what’s this about? Who are these people in the pictures?”

He actually seemed eager to talk about his work now that I had proven that I wasn’t a cop. “Well, it’s basically red riding hood. But instead of a wolf I put in a mafia looking guy.”

And as he said that, everything was put into place. There at the left of the mural was a girl with a red hood and blonde hair and green eyes looking at me. And as I walked behind the boy I followed her progression through the woods.

I watched as she met the mafia guy who was filling in for the wolf and I watched as she began to trust him. I watched as she arrived at grandma’s house and as the hunter came and chased away the mafia guy.

And I watched as Red Riding Hood kissed the hunter.

And suddenly I was pulled out of this painted world as I read the words, The End, newly gratified to the wall. It almost made me cry I realized as I blinked hard to hide my watery eyes.

Okay, I’m not an artsy person, but his art was so real. It wasn’t fake, it wasn’t weird looking, it was… raw. It was the world put into an old story about a girl going to her grandma’s house.

Suddenly he was standing next to me. “I need your help. The next subway car will be here in about five minuets and I need to cover this so it can dry right.”

He walked over to the wall and I noticed a milky looking sheet that carpenters used to focus air or to keep in dust when working on walls or floors.

I walked over to the other side and lifted the sheet as he did. He pointed up and said, “See those hooks just below the lights? Hand the holes in the sheet from those.”

And I obeyed. I stood on my tiptoes and stuck the sheet holes onto the hooks. And then together I helped him tape it to the ground at an angle so it didn’t’ touch the paint and stick.

This was why I didn’t notice it before. The sheet had been covering it and with all of the construction going on in New York it didn’t catch my eye. But when I had turned the boy had taken the sheet down and then I had seen it.

I looked around. Where had he gone? But he was already adjusting himself onto the bench wrapped in his worn out jacket and hat looking like an innocent bum.

I saw the lights of the subway car approaching so I quickly asked, “Hey, what’s your name?”

“Jon. Jon André.” He said, and then he fell asleep just as the doors opened and out flooded a crowd of people.