Change in Leaves

In the middle of the dark cruel city laid a small bunch of buildings. They were tall and skinny brick structures. Bars and black curtains hung on all the windows. No music floated through the streets, no people walked by and talked. The only sounds were the clicking of falling water droplets and the occasional automobile. Out of the buildings, the middle one stuck out the most. Though it had no significant difference the inside shined brighter than anything. When you opened the creaky black door the second you walk in, the atmosphere consumes you and transports you to a completely different setting. This one is a normal coffee shop. Simple and basic, but yet so extraordinary. The walls are painted with chalkboard material and are coated in numerous drawings. The lights and fans are hand painted and well decorated. Flowers are hung from the ceiling all around. Out of the flowers some are real, while others are paper and recyclable materials. Everything there doesn't fit so well, it makes a perfect picture. New comers normally stand at the door in awe. The normal find their space and begin whatever they came for. People of all color and ethnicity buzz around tables. Some lounging in the couches, others standing on the tables, most sitting in the unique chairs surrounding the multiple antique tables. While some sing and dance, others study and relax. Somehow this space can hold and adapt to everyone. But no matter the atmospheres beauty, the best part is the aroma that floats through the air. Roasted coffee beans hit your nose and drag you to the counter. Makes you pull out your money and purchase one of their drinks. The coffee mug warms your hands and with one gulp you realize this is the best drink yet. No one else can compare to the reaction the drink gives your taste buds. But they also sell cookies, cakes, muffins, tea, water, and whatever else the chef decides to make for the day. With all of this, there is a dire catch; no one can tell anyone else. This is a safe haven. Only those who wander will ever find its majesty. The evil and cruel rather sit on their thrones of gold than to stoop down to a boring pack of basic buildings.

I personally love the catch. Many people judge me and never will understand what happens in my mind. Most don't have quite the extensive range of my imagination. At the sight of almost anything I am intrigued. Once my spark is lit, I go far beyond most to learn of my wonderings. Once I read a libraries full of books on clouds. I wondered whether I could sleep on their touchless fluff, but was disappointed by my findings. Instead I learned a great bout on these water made creatures. I even made a point to paint an image of clouds all different colors. When I finished I took them to my spot. My room. Only my room. My room is in the coffee shop. It lays just beyond the back bathrooms. You walk down the cramped little narrow hallway to find a door. It is tall and painted in flowers from around the world. You turn the cold metal handle to find a green room of sorts. Flowers and plants that require little sunlight grow out and reveal a little gravel walkway. The walkway leads to a couch in the middle of the room. It is an old antique that was found in this very room when we bought the property. It's velvet cushions are worn and ripped at the seams, but overall it is in good condition. It is surrounded by mountains of my books and painting materials. My paintings are hung in various random spaces across the walls. Some even hung on the ceiling between the glass roof panels. In the middle of the back wall hangs a painting of a moon I did.

I run into the room, around the passage and jump onto my throne. I lean my head back and think of what to do with myself. Thoughts fluttered through my mind until the sent attacked me. It slapped the thoughts from my head and forced my body to rise. My green dress whipped behind me as I ran to the coffee shop. Down the hallway to the counter I found my mother taking orders. 

“Caption.”

“Sargent? Out of the room so quick?”

“The sent caught me.”

“Ahh, new autumnal drinks. My favorite too. Dads in the back whipping up some more. They are selling like hotcakes.” She saw the twinkle in my eyes and immediately turned her head and pointed at me “just don't get in his way. Plea-” but before she could finish my long legs had already made it to the kitchen.

“Hola!” I sang as I spun and lifted myself on the empty counter.

"Sargent. Reporting for duty?”

“I guess.” I jumped down and grabbed my apron from he hook. It had stains all over it. I couldn't remember the time it was perfectly white. I know when I am bored, I grab a pen and draw pictures around the edges. I also scribbled in my name on the little pocket on the chest.

“Hey, the two Pumpkin go to table four. The Scarecrow is six.”

“Gotcha.” I grabbed the tray with the drinks so perfectly set and pushed out of the door to the crowd. I ducked and wormed my way to the tables. I found table four. It had two older women. They had grey in their puffy short curls. One was white as paper and skinny like a stick. The other was dark like dirt and was bigger than most. They were laughing so hard I felt they wouldn't notice me. When I showed up they brought it down to a slight giggle and thanked me for the drinks. When I turned around they started again laughing. I wondered whether they were lifelong friends. I scanned the room for table six. I saw my target and maneuvered my body again around the people. I managed to successfully get there under two minutes. I met the table and a young man about my age. His hair was whipped in a curly wad on the top of his head. He had a crooked smile and dark rings under his eyes. He was tall and lanky with rugged clothes. They looked fake and used. He wore only dark brooding colors.

“Your drink.” I smiled and placed his Scarecrow on the table. He looked at me then the drink. 

“Thank you.” His voice was scratchy and sound hurt. 

“Are you meeting anyone?” I asked without thinking first. 

“No.” He sounded like he was happy but tried to keep his cool. I couldn't let him sit all alone when everywhere else everyone laughed and talked with others. 

“Do you mind if I grab a drink and join you?” 

“Must you ask twice?” I put a smile on my mouth and hurried off. I busted through the kitchen door, hung my apron, through the tray down, and grabbed a mug from the self. My dad was so concentrated on making his bread, I snuck a drink from the ready out tray. It was warm in my hands, and with only one whiff I could tell what I got. I got Yellow Leaves. Though it doesn't have the cutest or most appealing name, it is for sure one of my favorites. It was sweet with a slight hint of bitterness in the back. Unsaid, people made a little path for me. I quickly made my way by and found the man at his table. He was silently sipping on his coffee as he looked at the black curtains. I slid into the chair and caught his eye. I turned around to see if something abnormal was on the curtains, but they remained the same. 

“What is it?” I asked turning to meet his eyes. 

“Its just...nothing.”

“Nothing?” 

“Well.” He smiled again and took a deep breath, preparing to give a long speech. “Why do you, I mean I assume you work here, cover the windows? Maybe hang a sign up outside, it would attract a lot of people. You could make more money that way, but instead y'all live like this.” He shook his hands and raised his brow. “What?”

“Well. If people wanted to come, they would come; and we don't care so much for the money. My parents, the owners of our lovely little home, wanted to create a sweet haven for people living in this city. A bright light in the darkness.” When I finished I could still tell he was doubting our ability to own a restaurant. 

“Hmm.” he hummed as he brought the drink to meet his thin lips. He took a moment then looked around the room. He raised an eyebrow and asked “Any secrets the building has?” 

It shook me the question he asked. The only secret was my room. My spot. No one new about that. “Umm…” I hesitated “...no…” I quickly brought the glass to my mouth. Making it hard for me to answer. 

“I doubt that.” 

I brought my cup to the table. “What is it to you if this building has secrets? I bet you have many you will not spill to me. Anyway the secret here, is the one the quest are required to keep; no spilling our location!” He nodded and smiled.

“Well I enjoy scoping out the area. You can call me a scavenger of sorts. Looking for that perfect thing. I am completely stumped here.”

“Why?”

“Because there is no man made object of value. It is all rescued or brought by someone. Honestly the furniture, all together, costs less than some clothes.” He squinted as he searched the room. 

“Is it bad?” 

“No. It's perfect. The atmosphere and everything.” He turned back to me. “Seriously. I think there is an object somewhere worth a castle.” 

“That's an odd thing to wonder.”

“In the mind of a “scavenger” it's all I wonder.”

“Interesting…” This man or boy I would say is very particular. He hides secrets behind his eyes. 

“Well. What do you do for fun?” He is examining me for answers. 

“I read. And paint. Things of that sort.” 

“Will you show me your paintings?” he asks with the eyes of puppies. 

“I cant. They are somewhere no one can enter.” His eyes widen and he scoots forward in his seat. 

“Well. You are a lier. You said "no secrets" and yet the place with your paintings is a secret. I will see them one day. Don't worry. ” He smiles and stands. He grabs his leather jacket and leaves. 

“Sir!” I shout trying to tell him to come back, but he is already half way out of the door. I give up. I sigh heavily and go to clean up our mess. Under his cup, small piece of paper fluttered down on my table. On it said,"

“#1. Keep your coffee shop hidden. Or else the darkness will creep in and blow out your light. Also can't wait for your paintings.”

It was a strange and queer message that confused my mind. "What could he mean?" I wondered on and off throughout the day. He had just talked about making the coffee shop more known then coming back with “keep it hidden.” And when did he have time to write the message. He was peculiar man who made little sense. 

…

I went back with work and helped my dad get through the morning rush. I sneaked a few cookies and rushed off to my room. I went down the winding path to my couch. Flung myself on it, and began painting. I pulled out my darkest colors. The ones I rarely used. I grabbed a paintbrush, and let the bristles dance on the canvas. One by one the colors and lines formed a portrait. Me, the artist was even confused about what I was making. Only my hand knew the fate of the picture. Time ran from me and the day drew near to ending. 

I heard my mother open my secret door. Her feet cracked on the gravel. She took each step slowly, absorbing the atmosphere. She had always loved the flowers. They would bloom into balls of perfections. Their petals were untouched by the evil darkness that creep on the other side of the glass pains. 

“Sargent.” She tilted her head. The light from my lamp reflected off of her face. Her eyes were soft when I looked to meet hers. She had a glass plate in her hands with some mashed potatoes, green beans, and some ham. “Left overs from todays sales. Help your self with the day old baked goods when you want. Its late, and your father and me have to run the shop tomorrow.” She lightly set the plate beside me on the couch. “Who are you drawing?” 

I looked down at the painting and I was confused. “It-it was boy in the shop. He was so peculiar. I didn't realize who I was drawing till just now, commander.”

“He looks very handsome my dear.” She bent down and kissed my forehead before she walked out of the room. I smiled back and ate my food. When I was finished with the satisfying meal, I shut the light off, and fell asleep.

…

The next morning I woke up with the sun on my cheek. I had fallen asleep again on my couch. I stretched out and on my side table I found a warm cup of Yellow Leaves. I sat up quick and all around me nothing had changed, yet it felt funny. I could sense something out of place. I Reached for my coffee and as I picked it up a small shred of paper fell

“I am sorry. I could not save the darkness from this place. And I love the paintings. Mine was the best.” signed Jacob. Instantly I could tell the handwriting, despite having only met them a day ago, and being unaware of the name. I drank the warm drink as my heart pumped. I stood up and looked around the room looking for something strange, and then it hit me. My pictures. Each and everyone had gone missing. I shot up and touched the wall. It was cold. I ran my fingers across every nail hole. Then I saw more. Every beautiful flower was picked. Green leaves scattered across the ground. I ran to the coffee shop to find a nightmare had grown to live. Chairs were turned over and tables had no legs. Wall hangings were shattered on the ground. The register was opened and broken. All the money was stolen. The flowers were ripped from the ceiling, and torn to shreds. Everything that was perfect, was no longer there. The world stopped. My mother was on the ground with her hands on her eyes. I could hear her breathing hard and in tears. Father had is arm around her. Cops stood around the room asking questions. I was lost until one walked up and asked “Do you know who did this?” Unfortunately, I knew the darkness know.