Smoke billowed out of the old 1800 Victorian train like an old man releasing clouds of smoke from the weary corners of his mouth. As it curved around the bends of the streets, one might be able to catch a glimpse of the silver and gold letters that were lined with excess moonlight around the top edge of the train. And with the help of a rainy shower, they somehow seemed to fall and rise like music notes going up and down to the sounds of rain. But, as it was written in many books, the most prominent feature of the train has got to be the postal stamps that were stuck on over the years from the passengers who could see the train. People who have left such a strong color behind them left a postal stamp, sometimes without even realizing it. But, the train never forgot. Not like how they forgot.
"Wednesday" is her name. And, unfortunately, not many people can see her anymore. Her many compartments used to fill up with people of all ages, bringing along books and memories that stuck to the walls and left postal stamps on the sills of windows and on the lace muslin curtains. Even music used to fill the halls, bringing light and happiness to everyone who could hear the small whispers of "Wednesday." But, these days, her compartments feel a bit empty. Dead. Unused. Even some of the rosy pinks and purples on her "skin" that splashed amidst her dark blues and indigos faded slightly with time and winter's notorious bite as if tea was accidentally spilt on a book and faded its black ink.
For "Wednesday" is only seen by those who have color. Most everyone has some sort of iridescent tint, or a common desire to be happy and succeed in life. But, those who have color are different. They purposefully look out for others, while not letting that wash out their own color. But most of all, they devote their lives to their Creator, and work hard to stain their world with something meaningful. And this is when "Wednesday" was created. She roams around, desiring to spread her purpose throughout the world, in hopes that she can help those who don't have a color of their own yet....
"Wednesday" halted to a screeching stop in front of the metro station outside of San Fransisco. The usual moved by. There's your average mass of typical business men and women in ironed suits, the sleepy part-timers at those crowded Starbucks stuck on the corners of main roads, and of course, the stressed out college students who come and go like leaves tossed around by wind. As spring was stealing away winter's last breaths, "Wednesday's" colors also began to show bright pinks and lavenders against the robin blues and drops of pure night , as if plum blossoms were tossed in the sky. And especially during this season, the sweat smell of slightly bitter coffee and glazed puff pastries fill the air as bakeries opened up their dusty windows and turned on their French ovens. And of course, you can't miss the notorious grumpy looking high-schoolers dragging their feet to school, as if the world was ending today.
And in the midst of this busy city of San Fransisco, Thurston University stood proudly on the foundation of the blood, sweat and tears of the teachers and students who were lucky enough to get accepted into its walls. Test after test and sleepless nights reminded the students that it was not worth it to attend this prestigious school, yet waltzing around the streets with their steam-pressed uniforms and silver plated name tags helped them to push their pointy noses a little higher when students from other schools walked by. But, as time dragged on and less people began to notice "Wednesday," it was as if Thurston University had lost part of itself somewhere under the feet of the many citizens who walked upon her old tracks.
However, if there was one student who still cared about the train, it would have to be Anna. Anna attended Thurston University. Well, kind of. Anna has sort of being helping to run the school ever since the teachers realized that she has been the only one who was still adamant about preserving "Wednesday." And if you're wondering, yes. Thurston University used to be a university designed to help you enhance your skills in whatever you're called to do, while helping to preserve the train. However, as time unfolded a new chapter of people who doesn't seem to want to care about some "crazy" train, both the teachers, Anna, and the few that still ride "Wednesday" have sort of given up trying to force others to care. After all, if their heart isn't into it, then it's useless to try to force them into it.
"Anna." Isaac Stone, Anna's English professor stopped her as she was leaving the classroom, "about Wednesday, you don't have to push yourself so hard."
"Thanks, Professor," Anna mumbled, "but I'm ok." To avoid any further conversation, Anna quickly made herself lost in the crowd of hungry lunch-goers. She needed some time alone and the thought of skipping lunch to get some fresh air outside soon made her trace her steps back to the
"Thurston Pavilion" near the "Welcome Center." Old rocking chairs lined the outer "C" of the balcony that overlooked the cafe her father works at as well as some typical hole-in- the- wall bookshops and other tourist destinations. A girl with tight curls sat cross-legged on the farthest chair from the entrance, staring out into the big, crowded city. Anna quickly recognized her as one of the professor's daughters, Marlene-a wealthy, well-privileged, straight- A student who was nothing like your stereotypical filthy rich heirs to one of the highest seats in the university. And what made her unique? Instead of downing herself with name brands and fancy, slightly annoying perfumes, she always stuck to her same cropped jeans and the choice color of sweater for the day-powder blue. Of course her mom loathed her for this, but she didn't give the slightest concern for the opinions of those around her. Her fearless personality seemed trapped in a heart that was too hurt from insecurity and expectations. One could sense that her heart was desperate for change-that much Anna could empathize with. Anna quietly approached the chair nearest to her and ignored any glances that might be thrown at her. Of course, she already knew that Marlene wouldn't make the effort to acknowledge her entrance, but she wanted to give her a second chance....
to be continued:)
Much love and keep dreaming, Momo
Picture credit: (https://www.pinterest.com/pin/AadOCuhFkQfMqTeST4uNCncdzkpn5SdBR_3iFQHyTatlBM8TiCcjwoU/)
