Strange Encounters

The streets of New York City were more crowded than ever. After three weeks in the city, Melodie was ready for a change. She glanced over the times on the subway schedule. Melodie had a few more places she wanted to see before moving on to her next adventure. Her European trip seemed a lifetime ago, and so far, she had not encountered problems with weird accents or languages since landing in New York. Maybe it was just a figment of her imagination.

A crowd flooded the station on that particular evening. Everyone was determined to reach their final destination first. Melodie pushed her way through the massive amounts of people towards the designated subway car. An Asian couple bumped Melodie on her left side just as a mother and little girl passed Melodie on the right. The same pain she had felt before instantly came rushing back through her head.

When Melodie finally opened her eyes, she found a strange young boy not much older than herself staring back at her. She glanced around the room trying to remember what had happened. Melodie's head ached worse than ever.

"Where am I?" her throat was dry making it difficult to speak.

"You're safe here," the voice assured her. His words contained another accent she had never heard before.

"Just relax. The sooner you rest, the sooner your head will fell better," the boy left her side and wandered into the next room.

Melodie could get the full impact of her surroundings now. Paintings, drawings, and sketches layered every inch of the walls. Each work of art represented a unique place, a unique culture and atmosphere, many of which Melodie recognized from her travels. Yet, all of them had the same signature scribbled in the lower right hand corner, D. Andrews. The boy returned quickly as Melodie rushed back to her original location. His hands tightly formed around a glass full of an unfamiliar liquid.

"Not thirsty," Melodie slowly sat up.

"Drink it. It will make you feel better," the boy held the glass out as an attempt to force it into Melodie's hands, but she remained motionless.

"Suit yourself," the boy replied placing the glass instead on the carpet next to the couch she had been resting on.

"Where'd you get the paintings?" Melodie awkwardly interrogated the stranger in front of her.

"There a friend's," he avoided the question, "Sure I can't get you anything?"

"No, thanks," Melodie shifted her body to the end of the couch, "Well, this has been fun, but I think I'm going to be on my way now."

"Go right ahead," a grin spread across the boy's face. Melodie pushed herself up off the sofa grabbing the arms for support and balance. As she started to walk on her own, her legs became weak beneath her and wobbled uncontrollably until she fell back onto the couch.

"Maybe you'd like to stay awhile longer?" the boy laughed.

"Well, if you insist," Melodie leaned back against the couch, picked up the glass from the floor and began drinking, "I'm Melodie."

"I know," the boy stated, "I"m J.C."