The Reverend and Gloria.
One dark window.
My name is Gloria.
If there was anything I had become familiar with, it was being held back. My entire life had been a sad story-book, filled with unexpected events and forks in the road, and when I was younger I had never really been able to seek new boundaries. So, of course, when given the chance to leave my home, I took it without a second thought.
I'd been living in hell for far too long. It was time for a change of scenery. And not just any change. I wanted big change, change that only a place like New York City could bring.
I was finally free.
I sat in the taxi, leaning up against the worn, red leather seat as I watched the cityscape go by. Flashing lights and neon signs passed quickly in a blur of color as the taxi weaved in and out of the city’s busy traffic. Pedestrians littered the sidewalk, an obvious mix of tourists and businessmen and women on the way home from work. Everything was so bright and exciting. I was intrigued.
That is, until the taxi driver threw on the brake and we came to a screeching halt in front of a shabby, brick building on the corner of 5th Avenue and Broadway, nestled between two alleyways. I thought to myself that this poor excuse for a housing complex couldn’t possibly my new home, but when I checked the address on the transaction, sure enough. I would be living here, in a flat on the 2nd floor.
The taxi lingered for a moment even after I had gotten out and pulled my suitcase to the ground. I looked at the driver questioningly and then realized that I hadn’t paid him. $34.75 made its way from my wallet into his hands and he sped off without another word.
“People here are so friendly,” I thought sarcastically to myself.
I had been so eager to move and to make all the necessary plans, but now that I was here I could feel myself getting more and more nervous with each step I took towards my final destination. My heart pounded in my chest as I looked around and realized just how small and insignificant, how totally alone this city made me feel.
I looked up towards the sky and noticed that all the windows of the building were glowing with the warmth of light. All, that is, except one lonely window on the 3rd floor that was utterly dark. I couldn’t really explain it at the time, but when I looked up to that dark window I couldn't help but get the feeling that I was being watched.
With a last look at the street behind me I walked up the steps and pulled open the door.
After a trip up the winding staircase, I found my flat. Room 309. The key clicked in the lock as I turned the doorknob and pushed it open. Not too big, not too small. Kind of plain, but that’s nothing my artwork couldn’t fix. All in all, it was pretty much everything I needed in a place to live.
The trip to New York had been long and tiring, and I pulled on my pajamas before settling into the unfamiliar bed that sat in the corner. I pulled the blanket up to my chin and sighed. I would finish the rest of my unpacking tomorrow morning when I wasn’t so exhausted.
I had just drifted off to sleep when the sudden sound of shattering glass from the floor above woke me with a start. I sat up in bed, listening intently. I could very faintly hear a man’s voice, slurred, muttering a string of swear words, followed up by a fit of maniacal laughter. I was only half awake, so I ignored the noise and laid back down onto my pillow, falling asleep once more.
The first time I heard the man who I would later refer to as “The Rev”, I mistook it for some strange dream or hallucination brought on by my new surroundings.
But in fact, this man was very real.
If there was anything I had become familiar with, it was being held back. My entire life had been a sad story-book, filled with unexpected events and forks in the road, and when I was younger I had never really been able to seek new boundaries. So, of course, when given the chance to leave my home, I took it without a second thought.
I'd been living in hell for far too long. It was time for a change of scenery. And not just any change. I wanted big change, change that only a place like New York City could bring.
I was finally free.
I sat in the taxi, leaning up against the worn, red leather seat as I watched the cityscape go by. Flashing lights and neon signs passed quickly in a blur of color as the taxi weaved in and out of the city’s busy traffic. Pedestrians littered the sidewalk, an obvious mix of tourists and businessmen and women on the way home from work. Everything was so bright and exciting. I was intrigued.
That is, until the taxi driver threw on the brake and we came to a screeching halt in front of a shabby, brick building on the corner of 5th Avenue and Broadway, nestled between two alleyways. I thought to myself that this poor excuse for a housing complex couldn’t possibly my new home, but when I checked the address on the transaction, sure enough. I would be living here, in a flat on the 2nd floor.
The taxi lingered for a moment even after I had gotten out and pulled my suitcase to the ground. I looked at the driver questioningly and then realized that I hadn’t paid him. $34.75 made its way from my wallet into his hands and he sped off without another word.
“People here are so friendly,” I thought sarcastically to myself.
I had been so eager to move and to make all the necessary plans, but now that I was here I could feel myself getting more and more nervous with each step I took towards my final destination. My heart pounded in my chest as I looked around and realized just how small and insignificant, how totally alone this city made me feel.
I looked up towards the sky and noticed that all the windows of the building were glowing with the warmth of light. All, that is, except one lonely window on the 3rd floor that was utterly dark. I couldn’t really explain it at the time, but when I looked up to that dark window I couldn't help but get the feeling that I was being watched.
With a last look at the street behind me I walked up the steps and pulled open the door.
After a trip up the winding staircase, I found my flat. Room 309. The key clicked in the lock as I turned the doorknob and pushed it open. Not too big, not too small. Kind of plain, but that’s nothing my artwork couldn’t fix. All in all, it was pretty much everything I needed in a place to live.
The trip to New York had been long and tiring, and I pulled on my pajamas before settling into the unfamiliar bed that sat in the corner. I pulled the blanket up to my chin and sighed. I would finish the rest of my unpacking tomorrow morning when I wasn’t so exhausted.
I had just drifted off to sleep when the sudden sound of shattering glass from the floor above woke me with a start. I sat up in bed, listening intently. I could very faintly hear a man’s voice, slurred, muttering a string of swear words, followed up by a fit of maniacal laughter. I was only half awake, so I ignored the noise and laid back down onto my pillow, falling asleep once more.
The first time I heard the man who I would later refer to as “The Rev”, I mistook it for some strange dream or hallucination brought on by my new surroundings.
But in fact, this man was very real.