The City From Greenwich Village | Teen Ink

The City From Greenwich Village

October 21, 2008
By Anonymous

It's yet another day. Another day in these busy empty streets. Another day in these lively lifeless streets. Waiting. Forever. Eternal life. Eternal youth. Eternal solitude. A virtue that became a curse. A curse that became nine lifetimes.


It was a sunny day. The birds were chirping outside, cheerfully. Crowds of civilians were heading home. Relieved. Relaxed. Ready to go home to their families after a long day of work. Even the trolley seemed jovial as it passed by instantly, the tracks making a soft rattling noise.

But inside... Inside there was solitude. Silence. Suffocation. Darkness. Depression. DESPERATION.

I had been in bed for weeks. Movement was rare. I was dying. Doctor said I had typhoid fever. Chance of survival: none.

Hallucinations were frequent.





Fantastic.






Fatal.

I was staring at the ceiling when it happened. The windows were smashed open violently. Crash! In came a light. Bright. Benevolent. Burning. I gaped in amazement, my heart was a metronome set at supersonic speed.

It was an angel. An angel. Floating near the window. His large beautiful white wings. The light beaming on him. He was beyond sacred.
He said my time was up.

I stayed quiet, holding back my cynical remarks.
He could sense it. He would sense it all. My solitude. My silence. My suffocation. My darkness. My depression. My DESPERATION.

Then he was quiet.

He said I had a choice. He said he would heal me. He said he would give me eternal life. He said he would give me eternal youth. He said if I chose this, I could not leave the city, ever. He said my other choice was death.

"YES!" I screamed, "YES!"

Before I could utter another sound, an even more brilliant light than before filled me.
It was magnificent! Mitigating! Metamorphic!

The light vanished when it appeared. I turned to the angel to thank him. As I turned, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me. The angel's wings were now black and his eyes were red. It was only for a split second. Then he was gone.
After some time, I realized this was the angel's true form.

Yes, at first it was a virtue. I was able to leave my bed. I was able to enjoy my life once more. I was able to be with my loved ones again. But soon I realized what a terrible curse this angel had laid upon me.

I had to watch my loved ones leave the city, searching for their destinies, never to return. I had to watch my loved ones grow old and die while I stayed young and unchanged.


There was a deli around the block. It soon became a tradition to have lunch there every Saturday. On the walk towards the deli, I would always see the same person at the park.

One Saturday it was a young girl with short curly blond hair. She was flying a kite.


Another Saturday it was a young lady with long curly hair blond hair. She was being held by a young man.



Another Saturday it was a young woman with medium sized curly blond hair. She was taking care of her kids.




Another Saturday it was an older woman with short curly blond white hair. She was being taken care of by her daughter.





Another Saturday she was there no more.


I have seen countless people leave. I have seen countless people die. And now, this city is abandoned. With the years, many migrated north to a more blissful society, while I stayed behind.

How much time has passed since that faithful day? I cannot remember exactly. Yet, even to this day, I can see the ghosts of my memories while I walk the city alone. I can still hear the birds chirping outside my window cheerfully. I can still see the crowds of civilians heading home. I can still hear the jovial train and the soft rattling of the tracks.

It's yet another day. Another day in these busy empty streets. Another day in these lively lifeless streets. Waiting. Forever. Eternal life. Eternal youth. Eternal solitude. A virtue that became a curse. A curse that became thirteen lifetimes.

The author's comments:
This was a story I wrote for an English assignment. Basically, we had to write a narrative based on a painting. I chose the painting The City From Greenwich Village by John Sloan.

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This article has 1 comment.


on Jan. 9 2010 at 6:32 pm
michaeljacksonlover SILVER, St.Louis, Missouri
6 articles 0 photos 24 comments
I love it!...I like how you have to keep reading after you start, you cant just stop reading in the middle, Its really good!