MESSENGERA novel in 16 episodesBy Liz Keller WhitehurstRead by Rachel Pater Credits/ContactsAuthor: Liz Keller Whitehurst: messengerthenovel@gmail.comFor inquiries about MESSENGER or rights queries, contact April Eberhardt: april@aprileberhardt.comBook editor: Annie Tucker: annietucker@gmail.comPodcast design/social media: Brandon O’Neill: oneillcreativeco.comAudio production and voice artist: Rachel Pater: richmondstoryhouse.orgOriginal music and sound direction: Wells Hanley: wellshanley@gmail.comRecording and audio editing: Lance Koehler: minimumwagerecording.comSpecial thanks to Wilson, Joy, Audrey and April Find Us Online Website: messengerthenovel.comFacebook: facebook.com/messengerthenovelInstagram: instagram.com/messengerthenovelTwitter: twitter.com/messenger_novel Questions to PonderIn “Messenger Starts Something” it seems that Messenger was also looking for Alana. Why?What “hard spots” do you detect in Alana?What are the mysterious/unexplained aspects of the story thus far? What are you curious about?After learning more about Messenger, what do you think she’s up to? What is her aim? ---------------------------------Episode 2 Complete Text 📖 (Click here to access the PDF)--------------------------------- ALANA AND MESSENGER FINALLY MEET One week later, Alana finally found her. It was a bright, clear fall day. She was sitting on the third stool from the left at the long table at Ed’s Starbucks on 3rd Street and First Ave. Alana had just planned to go in for a coffee and to see if Ed would tell her any more, before she hit the streets to search. Ed wasn’t busy and since there was no line in front of her, she’d ordered before she’d even looked around the shop. When she turned, Alana saw her for the first time. She sat with bags scattered around her, that red stocking cap pulled down over her ears. Her body poured over the sides of the short stool. Her heavy coat (or coats) couldn’t hide the heft they held. After weeks of playing Hide and Seek, following lead after lead, all leading up to this moment, Alana shivered all over, something she’d always done in intense moments. Trying to still her chattering teeth, she inched across the room very slowly, as you’d approach a stray dog or a scared child you’re afraid might bolt. On her way, Alana caught Ed out of the corner of her eye. He made eye-contact with the woman, then nodded in Alana’s direction. “Hello? Excuse me, hello?” Alana sputtered. All the rehearsal she’d done in her head, anticipating this moment, left her. She waded through her bags to stand beside the woman’s stool. Alana’s heart pounded out of her chest. Surely everybody in the coffee shop must hear it, too. The woman turned slowly, and their eyes met. Her eyes were amber, like many had reported, but shone so bright, with flecks of gold in them, they dazzled. She held Alana’s gaze for the longest time, like she could see things there Alana didn’t even know about. It both scared her and made her feel safe at the same time. She didn’t want her to stop looking. Finally, after so much waiting and searching, Alana had her full attention. Then, she smiled at Alana. All her wrinkles fell into place as if that’s where they belonged and opened her face, so she looked like a child.Something in her eyes, her smile, made Alana sense Messenger had been waiting for her, too, had expected her to show up today. Was glad to see her, even. Had she planned to finally allow Alana to find her? Had Ed or the Flower Lady tipped her off? Or was it a deeper knowing? It really felt like they’d already met many times before. Like she knew her. But that was impossible. “Hello,” Alana said again. “I’ve been looking for you.” “Uh-huh. That’s what I hear.” “I’m Alana Peterson. I know you.” “Oh, you do, do you?” “I mean, I know about what you’ve been doing for people. Aren’t you the person giving out messages?” She didn’t answer. “Could we talk a little? Can I buy you a coffee?” “Ed gives me coffee for free.” “Oh, that’s so nice of him. Listen, I’m really interested in you. In the messages, I mean. I made this blog. I’ve interviewed some of the people you gave messages to. It’s all incredible. Could I ask you a few questions? Would that be okay?” Alana talked faster as she went. “Why?” “Well, you’ve been doing this for a long time, it seems, but nobody’s reported about you, so I want to write a story about you and the messages. Would you agree to that?” “About me? Why?” Alana hadn’t expected all these questions. “I just think what you’re doing is fascinating and significant. You know—life-changing. For the people who get the messages, that is.” Lame, lame, lame! Alana felt like she was failing a test. She chewed her cuticles and waited. The lady smiled again and Alana noticed she was missing some teeth in the back. “Sure, Baby. We can talk. But not right now. I got to go.” She stood up and gathered her bags. “Wait!” Alana shrieked. She couldn’t leave now. “Do you really have to?” “I do.” “But how will I find you again? I’ve been looking for so long already.” The woman threw her head back and laughed, as if Alana had told the funniest joke ever. Alana tried again. “Please wait. Can I come along with you so we can talk?” “Not today. Thanks, Ed,” she called to him. He waved to her and nodded to Alana. Alana couldn’t believe this was happening. The woman was headed to the door—getting away. “Please wait,” she called. “I don’t even know your name.” “You don’t happen to have any chocolates on you? Those ones wrapped in red foil? I dearly love them.” “No, but I can get some.” “You can find them at the Rite Aid.” She turned and smiled. Paused a beat, as if deciding whether or not to say more. “You can call me Messenger,” she added, over her shoulder. “Bye-bye.” MESSENGER STARTS SOMETHING I finally found her, Messenger thought. She slowly walked down First Avenue a few blocks, then turned onto Fifth Street. She’d sensed the girl’s presence for some time now, felt her energy draw closer. She had to smile when she watched her walk into Ed’s. A smile of releasing. Her own plan to shake things up was set in motion. She would accomplish it through this girl and nothing would ever be the same again. Her life-task would be fulfilled. Did she have the strength, after all these years? The power to create her own swerve? Was the girl really the one? Yes. Those beautiful, bright eyes! It was the first thing she’d noticed. Those deep brown eyes that went on forever. Just like her daughter’s eyes, she remembered. Now, that wasn’t what this was about. That didn’t enter in. But the fact she’d even register this synchronicity showed her it was time. Messenger sat on her favorite bench by the fence along the black asphalt playground. The school building was rundown and the paintings on the asphalt, including a map of the U.S. and a mysterious bulls-eye, faded and peeling. This girl was very young, Messenger had to admit. But that’s what we need. We can’t keep doing things the old way. It’s time now. Everything seems to say so. Messenger could read the signs. Clear as the nose on your face, she thought. No more secrets. What’s the use with these young ones? Their brains are already different from ours. Evolved. More evolved ones coming in all the time. They can’t remember not being connected in this new way. They know things on a level we had to work hard to come by. Granted, she felt some hard spots in this girl that needed releasing, but nothing she couldn’t handle. No, Messenger thought. I’ve seen worse. Well then, Let ‘er rip! It has to happen, she thought, sorting through her stash of paper, as a new message welled up from inside her. I’ll just help things along a little. She giggled. What’s the worst thing the Watchers can do to me for breaking the rules? She wasn’t sure. It would be bad, she knew. The Watchers were probably already on it—sensing what Messenger had in mind. They would know. She had to move quickly. TALE OF THE WHALE That evening, Alana stood by the door at Tale of the Whale, where she hostessed a couple of nights a week. She’d worked there ever since she’d moved to the city. Her best friend, Mary’s apartment-mate was leaving NYC for a new job, so she’d connected Alana with Gus, the owner and manager of Tale of the Whale. Gus, desperate, had hired Alana on the spot. And Alana knew her inheritance from her mom wouldn’t last forever. Grueling as it was, her hostessing gig helped keep her afloat. Decorated with old fishing paraphernalia, crab pots, buoys, fishing nets, Tale of the Whale was supposed to look like a seafood shack you’d find in any beach town. It was okay food at an okay price and had been an okay side gig for Alana. Gus also gave her and the waitstaff a free meal, another plus. Between waiting for new customers, Alana filled the water glasses of the few guests they had and planned her strategy. She had to admit, after all her struggles to find Messenger, when she’d finally met her earlier that day, she’d been a little disappointed. Messenger looked . . . normal. Too normal. She could be anybody. What did you expect? she asked herself. Light? A Halo? Something supernatural or woo-woo or weird? Come on, Alana. Be real. Messenger’s clothes were worn and it was impossible to tell how big she was with all the layers of coats. Alana wondered if she had any hair beneath the red cap. One difference she did notice about Messenger, she didn’t have that deer-in-the-headlights look. “Excuse me, Miss. Do you serve sea bass?” A short, plump couple who looked like twins interrupted her thoughts. She assured the man they did, then seated them at a table in the back. She filled a pitcher with water and worked her way around the guests’ tables. Returning to her thoughts, Alana continued her assessment of Messenger. Alana realized that after she’d introduced herself and had been around Messenger for like, two seconds, she’d felt this feminine, really maternal energy. That energy surrounded you like the mother you wished you’d had. “Alana!” Gus called from behind the counter. She glanced at the door and saw a group of four crowded there. “Sorry! May I show you to a table?” They settled in and Alana gave them each a paper menu. One had coffee stains on it, so she swapped it and handed the clean one to a man in the group. She pulled out a tray from under the counter and bussed the nearby table. Messenger’s eyes were definitely her defining feature, Alana decided. But she’d already been tipped off about that from everybody who’d included a description of her in their post. Alana had never seen anything like those eyes. Her irises were this weird amber color with a milky white ring (cataracts?) around them. When she stared into Alana’s eyes for just that short conversation they’d had, her gaze was laser-intense. It felt like Messenger knew her better than she knew herself. Like you couldn’t keep any secrets from her, even if you tried. But it was also a warm, encouraging gaze. The only word Alana could come up with was—love. Love poured out of those strange eyes. Nobody had ever looked at her like that before. “Excuse me. Do you have anything for dessert?” It was the chubby twin couple again. “Sure.” She brought them each a menu, then returned to her post at the front door. Thank God it was almost closing time. She could get home, take a long, hot shower and fall into bed, like she always did on work nights. The only problem with this job was getting that rank fried food smell out of everything. Her thoughts returned to Messenger. I can’t believe I finally found her. I never thought I’d get this far. But now what? I hope things will get easier. Messenger had agreed to help, to answer Alana’s questions. But Alana had so many questions. Since she was still at work, Alana tried to count them and keep track of them on her fingers, so she wouldn’t forget any. On her way to the train after closing time, energy bubbled up in Alana and she almost ran to the station. You have got to stay professional, she cautioned herself. She couldn’t let her excitement or any warm feelings cloud her judgement. No doubt, all of this would take time. Messenger was a complex person and there was a lot of information Alana needed about the messages, how it all worked, backstory about Messenger herself. After today, she felt more convinced than ever that this story could be a big one. But more than that, Alana felt drawn to Messenger in a way she couldn’t understand or explain. ALANA ON THE HUNT Every morning, Alana rode the train in. On the way, she scribbled questions for Messenger in the notebook she kept in her green backpack. After the long challenge of finally finding and meeting Messenger, she’d figured everything would go smoothly. Wrong! This is how it would go. Alana would start each morning walking up and down streets, scouring the neighborhood around Ed’s Starbucks. Finally, if she was lucky, she’d spot a dot of red weaving through the crowds and make a beeline to her. Messenger’s warm smile, her open arms and the hug she always gave Alana, her “Hey, Baby,” always made Alana feel she was happy to see her, too. But she’d never stay long. They would be talking together and suddenly, right in the middle of things, Messenger would touch Alana gently on the arm or cup her chin in her palm. “Time for me to go now, Honey. Bye, bye!” Gone. Alana wouldn’t find her again for days. “Could we please set a time to meet up?” she’d beg Messenger, try her best not to sound desperate. “No, Baby. Sorry about that. My time’s not my own.” For Messenger, time as we know it, did not exist. No cell phone, laptop, no real home, Alana suspected. Once, she came right out and asked Messenger where she lived. “Oh, here and there,” she’d answered. What? Who says that? Ed was no help, either. The times Messenger would leave her in the coffee shop, Ed made a point of getting very busy cleaning up or helping customers. One afternoon, when Alana pressed him again with more questions about Messenger, he actually stopped wiping the counter and looked at her instead of multi-tasking. “I’ve told you everything I know. Nothing to add except a little advice. You’re going to have to work on her time. Not yours.” His voice was soft and he allowed himself a brief smile before he turned back to his work. Alana knew Ed was right. That was the problem. Time. But, as people like to say, Time is money. She’d never dream of telling Ed this, but, for Alana, both were running out. ALANA’S NOTEBOOK: 10 PLACES TO FIND MESSENGER Ed’s StarbucksStoop on the middle of Fifth StreetBenches along playground, across from police station. Look for lady with two fat Chihuahuas resting on her walk. On bench in park where you can listen to the fountain.Church of the Transfiguration on 16th Street. Left side near the red luminary candle rack. Mary statue in same church. Lady with Yorkie in her bag. The dog barks at everyone who enters the church except for Messenger. Messenger loves their mid-day concerts. With the Flower Lady on 6th Street and 2nd Avenue In park near dog run. Talking to the dogs.In the alleyway behind Three of Cups Italian Restaurant where the guys sit on white plastic crates to smoke. In the library, back in the stacks near the water fountain and restroom. The librarian lets Messenger have the key whenever she wants. MESSENGER’S COMPOSITION BOOK: THE BEAT I usually leave Ed’s, that sweet young man, he takes such good care of me, and go sit on the wooden benches on Fifth Street, beside the schoolyard fence. I close my eyes and go deep inside. Down, down, down, beyond all the words, the blabber, the stories I tell myself—have always told myself. After a while, I grow huge. I can feel my arms and legs grow until I am more than a giant. I am universe-sized. I can feel myself on the inside and outside. Both. This takes a long time to do. I sit and hold the earth, now a tight, small, blue rubber-ball, like you get with jacks. They used to come in the same colors as pencil erasers. There it is—that beautiful blue earth lying in my two hands. Everything stays put—I don’t know how gravity works, but it does. It comforts us, holds us. I realize this earth-ball pumps with life. Beats. It’s like holding a heart in your hand—that must be a trip for surgeons. And the circles are everywhere! They connect more and more people—join them in a web of circles, all over Planet Earth. So I bless the earth, and everybody on it. Every single soul from the past, present and future. Peace silently comes. Nothing matters—war, murder, violence. They don’t matter one bit. Relax. Things are better than they seem. Believe it! Because when you shrink the earth down like this, all that remains is the beat, the beat of life. It makes everything happen in the first place, keeps things going, AND—wait for it—it’s fixing things up! Tiny, tiny movements—oh, so tiny. Same beat as everybody’s heart, every creature’s, even plants. No blood, but they’re moving with the beat, too. That fixing is at work at all time and in all places on my beautiful ball. The fire within the earth, the core that nobody can see? Going strong to the beat, too. You want to know the beat? How about trying to hear your own heart, for starters. Feel it beat inside you, without putting your hand on your chest. Your heart, the street drummers, the blood in your veins, the song of birds, the hawk’s cry, drips of water. The space between your hands. Then feel the space between your cells. There’s energy there. Did you know it? You can feel that first. Start with your own body. Then branch out to colors. Each has a different beat. Then music—so obvious. Hear the beat within the beat. Most of us don’t even know this is happening unless we drop down to the beat, too. When we do, we feel it in our bones—that healing’s happening. Sit quiet and look around. Pay attention. You’ll feel it. I walk and pray and send light to every single person I pass. People don’t understand the power they have and how easy it is to bless somebody. I see or feel the weather report for every single soul who passes by. Sunny, partly cloudy, stormy, drizzle, full-on hurricane. Even some earthquakes. Yes, tsunamis. Doesn’t matter. I just send them my light. I don’t have to speak a word—they feel it. It makes a difference. Imagine a shaft of green light coming up through the center of your body from the earth. Green, grounding energy pulsing up. Then golden light pouring through the crown of your head, into your heart and meeting the green light there. A body of energies meeting like when you light a gas burner and poof! The flame mushrooms out, mixes the colors, surrounds you on all sides with lovely light and pulsing energy. That’s how it feels to get a message. Okay, now. Here’s how to bless. Open the top of your head. When the light comes in you, just dart your eyes at somebody and keep breathing. It comes out of your eyes to them. Believe that it can do it— and it does. You add your own light to the Watchers, who are already hard at work to protect you, those here on Planet Earth and those who have passed on joining them. They work on that healing I was talking about. So, see, nobody should ever feel alone or on their own, no matter how rough things get. It’s just not true. If only people could believe it. If they would just take a minute and listen to the beat. That’s the big problem with all these phones and boxes and I-things. Everybody’s so wired they can’t receive. Those things close up all your receptors. There’s nowhere for the light to come in. Blocked! No wonder every single person walking down the street looks like they’re just about to cry. ALANA AND MESSENGER Alana prowled the streets, headed down Fifth in search of Messenger. She glanced at the Day-Glo mural, a woodland scene with bluebirds, cardinals, squirrels and, weirdly, a raccoon and a mallard duck, which spread the full height and length of the side of the Rite Aid building. The Ninth Precinct Police Station sat diagonally across the street from the drug store. Two officers pulled a tough-looking guy in handcuffs out of the back of a squad car and escorted him through the door. A guy weaved ahead of her from trash can to trash can, picked out half-eaten food. Alana found Messenger on a bench along the fence surrounding the school playground. After they talked awhile, Alana jotted notes in her notebook while Messenger fed dog biscuits to two obese Chihuahuas, one all white, one tan-and-white, they often saw on Fifth Street with their owner, an older lady who never spoke or cracked a smile. The three of them usually rested on the bench nearby. When the dogs finished crunching their biscuits, the lady pulled their leashes and headed down the street. “She isn’t too friendly, is she?” Alana commented, after the lady had turned the corner with the dogs. “Oh, she’s all right. She lets me feed them whenever I want. Let’s take a walk, too.” “Okay.” Alana slowed her usual pace, two steps short of a run, down to Messenger’s. A crawl. “Walk” was an exaggeration. Even though she moved slowly, Messenger strode. With every step, she planted her foot securely on the earth. Nothing could make her hurry. Alana frowned. Here we go again. She sucked the side of her thumb she’d picked and made bleed. Today, she had a new idea. Alana dug the black and white composition book with ruled lines out of her backpack and tried not to get blood on it. “Messenger, will you do me a favor? Will you write down anything you think of that would help me with this project? You know, maybe explain how all this started—you getting the messages, how they come to you, what your process is. Or anything else you might think I need to know.” “Well . . . I’m not sure.” “Listen, no pressure. Just stream-of-consciousness. Lists or bullet points are just fine. I would really appreciate it.” “Okay, fine, Honey. I will.” Messenger took the book, opened it and stuck her nose in the middle of it. “Ummm. I just love that smell. Fresh paper.” Alana saw where Messenger was going. “I’ll bring you lots of clean paper for your messages if you’ll just use this for notes for me. Okay? Please?” Messenger threw back her head and laughed so hard and so deep, as if Alana had said the most hilarious thing ever. Alana didn’t know anybody who laughed like that. She waited patiently for the laughing fit to subside. “Okey dokey, Honey. Deal. I hear you.” “Good. Now, back to the messages.” “You hurt yourself.” She took Alana’s hand and studied her thumb. “Oh, my. Why do you pick at yourself like that?” Alana pulled away and stuffed both hands into her pockets. “It’s fine. Just a bad habit,” she said. “I’ve always done it. My mom used to make me wear gloves at night, but that didn’t help during the day. She once put this nasty-tasting polish on my nails. Yuck. Even that didn’t work.” “Well, you’ve got to stop.” “I know. Look, can we get back to the messages?” “Sure.” Determined to make progress (everything with Messenger seemed to take so damn much time), she phrased her question carefully. “Why are you doing it? What are the messages for?” Messenger grew quiet as they walked. The pause continued, but Alana didn’t dare break it. She felt lighter after Messenger had agreed to keep the composition book. It could be another way to gather information more quickly. They passed an older man so dirty he looked like he hadn’t had a bath in years. Wearing only flip-flops, his feet were black, swollen. Were they rotten? Alana cringed. Then a big guy with long hair, a cowboy hat and a furry orange coat pushed past them. Alana noticed Messenger watched everyone and no one escaped her glance. Messenger finally cleared her throat. “Some things psychology or drugs can’t heal, no matter how hard you try, because they are spiritual in nature. Every hurt, every rejection, everybody just being plain mean to you for no reason, every disappointment, no matter how small. They all add up. And, for some, it’s too much.” She paused again. Alana held herself back, to allow Messenger to talk at her own pace. “You see, it breaks off part of your soul. The soul is brittle, like glass. It can break real easy. If people could only understand how very, very sensitive human beings are. But they don’t, you see.” “But how do the messages . . .” Alana prompted. “That’s what a message can do for you, if you’ll let it. The message is exactly what the person needs to hear, so it can bring back that part of the soul that’s broken. The soul wants to come back to the body. That’s the natural state of affairs. So, after you get your message, you need to do something to respond. Doesn’t have to be a big deal— just change one little thing. Smile for no reason at the person you’re fighting with. Or decide to wear something red today instead of gray. Walk around the block. Moving your body is key. That allows everything to shake back down. Hum! Mmmm—-hmmm.” They turned onto Second Avenue and saw this skinny guy walking towards them. He wore super-tight jeans, arms like sticks, long, stringy blonde hair. A huge, blonde bird’s-nest beard swallowed his face. “Hey, aren’t you that lady? The one passing out those notes? Messages or something? I saw the guy’s video and the photo. Wow, cool! It’s you.” Oh, no! Alana had important questions of her own for Messenger and didn’t want this dude taking up her precious time. But it was too late. Messenger stopped and looked right into his face. “Yes, Honey. That’s me, I guess. Even though I told those folks not to tell anybody.” “Well, wow! Cool! Listen, could you write one for me right now?” His nose dripped and he didn’t wipe it. Alana linked arms with Messenger, tried to gently pull her away, but Messenger smiled at him, taking him all in, for the longest time. “It’s gonna to be okay, Baby,” she said, her voice low and rich. “It’s gonna be okay.” “Well?” He held out his hand. “Give it to me.” “That’s all. That is your message. You got what you need.” Then she turned and started walking. “Hey, no I didn’t. Wait! Come back!” But Messenger didn’t even turn her head. “That’s it for him,” she murmured to Alana. They were halfway down the street before he gave up yelling at her. “Is that hard on you?” Alana asked, felt the weight of Messenger’s body beside her, moving in her own time. “Oh no, Honey. I’m not responsible for the message or the way it’s received. It’s just up to me to deliver. That’s what a messenger does. You’ve heard of messenger services?” Alana laughed. “Sure.” “Well, that’s what I do. I deliver. I hand over the message. Then I let it go. Flow and go. It’s easy, really. Very clear cut.” Alana and Messenger didn’t turn back although the guy called to them a few more times. Alana knew exactly how he felt. We want every little detail, she thought. Somebody to tell us how things really are and how they’re going to be. What we should do. Not just generalizations. “Give us the deets!” we say. It didn’t work like that with Messenger. That much she’d already learned. Messenger turned to Alana. “This isn’t the first person to tell me about some video. You saw it too, right?” Alana nodded. “You’re not planning to do anything like that, are you?” “Oh, no.” “Okay, good. Listen. Let me tell you something about what just happened with that boy back there,” Messenger continued. “If you let people stay on your mind, you send them your own energy. They will receive it, if you send it. Just bless them and shut the door. They’ll be fine. We’re all in good hands, whether we know it or not. My teacher used to always tell me, ‘You are useful but not essential.’ Nobody is. Just remember that, Honey. We don’t want to get too high on our horse, now do we?” Then she cut loose with a deep belly laugh, until her eyes filled with tears and she wheezed. “No, Lord. Not too high on your horse and not too worn out, either.” “Do you ever get worn out?” Alana asked. “Me? No! Energy is just pouring out, every which way, up through the earth. Down from the sky. Oh, our Mother is so wonderful and beautiful and ALIVE. Tap into her energy, just let it come. You’ll never lack a thing.” “But how? I don’t get it.” Messenger stopped and rubbed Alana’s back between her shoulder blades. “You are a body. You’re in a body. So, act like one.” “What?” “Get in yours! I can feel your thoughts swarm around your head like a hive of bees. Get here. Now.” She clapped her hands. “Wake up!” Alana bugged her eyes open. “I’m awake.” “You think you’re awake. But you’re not.” She shrugged. “Not many are.” Messenger’s voice was so rich that Alana loved to hear her say anything, didn’t matter what. It had a different vibration that just felt good to listen to. “Oops. Gotta go now, Honey. See you around.” “But I thought we were spending the day together. You promised to tell me more about your process!” Alana listened to her own voice rise. Messenger walked away. “Next time, bring me some of that chocolate I told you about, okay? I dearly love chocolate. Dark.” She headed off down First Avenue without another word. © 2nd Star, LLC
