Who Is Andy? Learn just what's in a name in this microfiction tale of creepy street art ● Spec Fic ● 350 words ● 1.5 minute read
Andy. That’s the name scratched into the crosswalk button. It’s just one of many, but you’ve seen this particular tag before, in different parts of the city. Everywhere you go, in fact. Who is this Andy? you wonder. They sure do get around.
The light changes and you cross the street, only to find yet another Andy tag, this time scrawled in black marker across a bus bench, an arrow drawn beneath it as if pointing the way. The way where? you wonder. And then, an idea: You’ve got nothing to do right now, so why not find out? You set off with a shrug, eyes peeled for another of Andy’s prolific street marks.
You follow the Andys, a trail of breadcrumbs rendered in crisp Sharpie black. Down the street, around the corner – oh hey, here’s another! – beneath a freeway overpass… You keep up the hunt until you find an Andy with an X beneath it, just outside the wrought iron gates of a well-manicured park. X marks the spot, you think, so through the gates you go.
It takes you only a few steps before you realize the park isn’t a park at all, but a cemetery. A chill prickles your skin and you’re ready to get the hell out, but you spot one more Andy. This one is drawn at the base of an angel statue with a broken wing.
The angel watches over a grave adorned with flowers and balloons weighted down by a heavy framed photo. The glass and frame gleam and glint in the sun, obscuring the picture within. You move closer, trying to see through the glare. A cloud rolls past and dampens the light, giving you a better look.
What you see is a punch to the gut – shining out from the silvery square is your own smiling face. There you are, your favorite picture posed next to bronze letters stating your birth date and some other recent date, both beneath your very own name: Andy.