Chapter One: The Stranger

Coming home late from work one evening, a young man crosses paths with a peculiar stranger that changes his life forever.

Behold, if willing, the far-from-fantastic life of one, Hendrick B. Gardener, or Henry, as most know him. Now, it is ever-essential to know that young Henry here is a waiter at a downtown diner; and that, on busy nights when the crowds come in, our dear friend doesn’t get off work until very, very late.

 

It is a night like any other, and stepping out into the dark and shadowy streets, good ol’ boy Henry looks around only to find that, aside from the few silhouettes passing in the distance, he is almost entirely alone.

Slightly unnerved by this, he starts swiftly down the walk, pumping his legs in a wide stride. He is tall and thin, left slouched from years of low tables and short ceilings. What was once neatly slicked hair is now left fallen and disheveled, covering much of his face.

He’s worn out, exhausted from a long day’s work; but there is something deep inside that keeps him going, that keeps poor Henry trudging along. A fire, lit within him, chanting out, “You’re almost there. It won’t be much longer now, almost there.” A flame fueled by his need of a warm bed and a good night’s rest.

 

What you’re now looking at is a dimly lit train platform. It’s sometime around midnight, and all is still and silent. Mr. Gardner suddenly enters the platform with a sweet sigh of relief, his heels clacking as he races across the station floor.

“What time is it?” he whispers to himself. "And where is everyone?”

Henry stands for a moment, and then quickly turns round as if he hears something, but there’s nothing there.

After spending a great deal of time pacing back and forth, Henry takes a seat on one of the benches, and begins shaking his leg impatiently.

“Oh come on! What? Did I miss it? Damn! That’s just my luck!”

Standing up in a fit of frustration, he looks to the sky.

“Couldn’t just give a guy a break, eh? Not even just this once?”

 His eyes fix on a large poster, advertising overpriced penthouses. The caption reads 'Just One More Step toward a Better Life!'

He shakes his head and laughs. “What the f**k am I going to do now?”

Suddenly, there comes a loud screeching, and Henry can see the blinding red and white lights of a train approaching.

When it finally comes to a stop, and young Henry steps inside, he quickly realizes that, it too, is completely empty.

“Now that is strange. Just where in the hell is everybody anyway?”

Finding a seat near the end of the train, Henry throws himself down.

“Guess I’m the last one out of the city,” he says letting out a yawn. “Wow! Can it really be that late already?”

The doors shut with a sharp clink and the train car purrs as it begins to move, slowly picking up speed.

Another noise suddenly begins amidst the nothingness, but this time the sound is quiet and distorted; a kind of crinkling or crumpling, coming from the other side of the train.

     And sure enough, when Henry turns to look, he sees what appears to be a peculiar man, sitting at the opposite end of the car.

The man whistles softly, flipping through a newspaper, of which he’s propped in front of his face.

The whistling stops.

“It’s quarter to one,” the stranger answers abruptly.

Henry, left startled and confused, leans forward in his seat with wide eyes.

“W-What was that?” he asks anxiously, slowly standing to his feet and walking a little closer.

“You asked, ‘Can it really be that late already?’ And then I said, ‘It’s quarter to one.’

Which I guess is late-or early, depending on how one looks at it.”

And in that moment, the man lowers his paper, and gives a gentle nod.

The stranger is old. He looks clean and well dressed, like some sort of salesman, and carries along with him a certain calmness and charisma.

Henry cautiously approaches, scratching his chin.

“Oh," uh, well, thanks. It’s been a long day for me, I’ve sort of lost track of the time. Say…

“Say, I didn’t see you when I came in.”

Then, laughing awkwardly he asks, “W-What were you lying down or something? Taking a little nap?”

“A little nap?” the stranger chuckles. “No, no. I’ve just been reading this paper.”

The man’s head turns slowly, and their eyes finally meet. They are bright and welcoming.

“It’s a crying shame, all that goes on these days,” continues the stranger, tossing down his newspaper. His face is solemn and he seems almost on the verge of tears. “There isn’t a thing in here that isn’t about pain, and corruption, or about greed and turmoil.”

“This is true,” Henry agrees, turning away somberly. “There aint much left to be optimistic about in this day in age.”

The strange man stands up and stares for a moment, peering into Henry.

“Why sure there is!” the stranger says suddenly with glee. “I’m certain you’ve plenty of things to be happy about.”

“Is that so, eh?” he replies, inching in reverse. “And what makes you say that, huh? You don’t know a thing about me.”

“Oh,” laughs the man. “But I do, dear boy. I know more than you could ever imagine.”

Henry slowly lurches backward. For what feels to be several minutes, he stares intensely, unsure of what to say. His blood sinks to his toes, and his heart starts like a drum.

Through the windows, the world outside seems to be falling away. Below his feet, it’s as if the train is floating off the track. He has a sudden sensation of falling.

“Not the friendliest person, are you, Mr. Gardner?”

Hearing the stranger use his name, Henry falls back into the closest seat. He’s now quite dizzy; yet feeling lightly euphoric, and when the man speaks to Henry, he feels very familiar, like some distant relative.

“I’m only going to say this to you once, so I suggest you bend your ear. I am a friend, Hendrick,"someone who wishes only to help you.

“I am capable of providing answers, the answers to all of your deepest curiosities. I can tell you anything you would like to know. That is, if you are so inclined to ask.”

     The look on Henry’s face begins to warp, and his mouth falls open.

     “Y-You must be joking.”

He smiles nervously. “This must be some kind of a prank or something, isn’t it?” Looking around, as if more people are hiding someplace, he calls out, “Okay! Okay! That’s very funny. Ha!Ha! You can show yourselves now! The jig is up! Come on, I’m not falling for it!”

     “Oh Henry, I don’t think you fully understand,” continues the stranger in a very serious tone. “This is not a game. No, certainly not. Though, I do suppose one could say there are rules involved.”

     “Rules?” echoes Henry.

     “Yes, rules. The rules being that you are limited to but three questions. To ask a fourth would prove to have very dire consequences.”

     “So, what," I ask a question, and you answer… whatever it might be?”

“Whatever it might be,” repeats the stranger.

“Well then, mister, if you’re so all-knowing, tell me, what’s in store for tomorrow?”   ­

“Well, that is rather vague, isn’t it, my boy?” he asks with a chortle. “But you know what, seeing as it’s your first time, I’m going to make an exception; just this once. Next time, do try and be more specific.”

The odd old man shuts his eyes.

“Tomorrow will be an unfortunate day. You will need an umbrella… as there will be a heavy rainfall. The good news is you’ll be receiving a hefty tip from a wealthy gentleman in a white suit.” He pauses.

 “But sadly, your coworker, Maria is it? She’s going to be let go.”

“It’s going to rain you say? Well that’s not surprising at all; it rains nearly all year round in this city. And as for Maria, which I must admit is a very lucky guess, she’s one of our top servers. If you knew anything at all about her, you’d know Mr. Stefano would never fire her! She’s his best employee!

“It’s much more probable that she’d be the one receiving a big tip, and that I’d be the one getting canned. I think you need to get your facts straight, mister!”

“You asked, and I answered,” concludes the stranger, wandering back to his seat.

A tinny automated voice comes through suddenly.

‘Next Station is: 57^th Avenue.’

Henry jerks his head toward the source of the announcement, a small speaker just above the doors.

“That’s my stop,” he mutters.

But when he looks back, he sees no sign of the stranger. Nothing left but a newspaper on an empty seat.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[billyjf]

I like the strong sense of mystery. One of my favorite lines is "The look on Henry’s face begins to warp, and his mouth falls open." Henry's disbelief is amusing.