The Jazz Man
The Jazz Man was something of an icon in Helrit City.
He was known to be within the crowded subway stations between Adam and Fifth, jamming out on his tawny-colored saxophone with his long dreaded hair that swung back and forth as he rocked his head.
He normally wore psychedelic-colored shirts that contrasted against his skin which was a few shades darker than hers.
In her eyes, it made him look like a piece of art that constantly stood in front of the pale sea-green walls that were once bronze.
People regularly tossed coins and bills into his tin cup, entertained by his jazz renditions of modern-day songs and exotic personality.
He was loud, carried a heavy Louin accent, and titled people by their characteristics. He knew a lot about music and the world.
She considered herself lucky to have come across him.
He taught her many things about music and the unknown. The “unknown” was the world itself for she didn’t know much about it.
She didn’t know that there were large bodies of water that you could swim in or that in some places of the world, they didn’t have regular seasons.
The world was much larger than what she knew.
She bumped into him, a year and a half ago, when she first arrived in the city after departing from the parade where everyone had tattoos on their bodies and weird nicknames.
That was probably one of the best times of her life but she had to move on.
Staying fixed in one area was dangerous.
Not only for her but for the people around her as well. She remembered the day she left those called family.
She had done it many times and each time, it became harder and harder.
So when she arrived in Helrit, she was lost- mentally and physically.
Wandering through the city like a marionette without strings.
It was until she overheard two women talking about going to see the Jazz Man that and became curious. She wanted to ask but couldn’t.
Communicating with others was difficult.
If she didn’t have an instrument to convey her emotions and speak to them with sound, then they never understood what she was trying to tell them.
It didn’t help that she never learned how to write.
Instead of struggling, she just waited until they finished up their conversation and stalked them to the subway.
She thought they were going to notice some ragged faux human trailing behind but they didn’t.
And boy, was she happy about her decision.
They led her to the Jazz man and it was then, she realized she didn’t have to be alone anymore.
Alone with the dark, the demons who heard her, and her thoughts again.
The darkness was always there, especially as a child.
She had to learn to dance with it.
Be with it.
Feel it for it held absolute solitude and sunshine that came from a rather large window that allowed her to see freedom but never touch it.
Through the window, she saw a beautiful sapphire sky, the tips of tall evergreens, and nothing more.
It was a moving painting, day in and day out.
But after years, despite the sun radiating; touching her skin with its warmth and pecking her cheeks; it was still dark.
And she never knew why.
She continued to head down the crowded sidewalk where every few steps she bumped shoulders with someone.
Helrit was constantly moving, every day and every night.
It never stopped for anything and when it did, something terrible must’ve happened.
There were TV advertisements posted on billboards, giant skyscrapers that looked down on everyone, and glass buildings that kept secrets.
Cars flew up and down avenues at high-speed rates and if they weren’t speeding, they were honking in the hours-long traffic.
Helicopters hovered over the city at outrageous heights, carrying others so that they can admit the beauty in the lights that shimmered.
As she walked, sprinkles of snow fell and she passed by a shop selling tvs in high definition.
The many TVs flashed to the news where an anchor wearing a bright pink cardigan was in the middle of talking about “them” and the riots that have been happening within the western part of Exekiel.
Humans huddled against the glass window with their clean coats and soft mittens, desperately listening in on the updates.
“The Enforcers have informed us that the recent string of riots have been slowing down over the past few days and it is all thanks to their Queen; Clarice Delafontaine! She will be holding a press conference at the beginning of next week.” the female news anchor continued, “Her beautiful son, Prince Beauregard will also be joining her.”
The TV must have cut to an image of the Queen’s face for gasps and awes were let out.
“So that’s how she looks!” A man awed.
“I told you she was stunning didnt I? And she has no makeup on her face...can you believe it?!” A woman practically shrieked.
She rolled her eyes and clucked her tongue as she walked faster, heading to the subways.
Finally, she arrived at the subway station and descended the pastel yellow steps.
Her body bobbed and weaved through the crowd that waited impatiently and patiently to buy their tickets at the booth.
With a wave at a familiar-faced Enforcer with a strong chin, she entered the mouth of the golden gates where another set of stairs waited to Platform 8.
Tiredly she stepped down, holding onto the silver bar that divided the steps down the middle.
When she took her final step, she made a hard right, and there she saw the Jazz Man, sitting against the wall with his saxophone between his legs and a black case to the right.
His head leaned back and dark sunglasses covered his eyes despite the fluorescent lights.
She grinned, tip-toeing over to him.
She wanted to surprise him but his head turned and a grin flew onto his face, revealing yellow-stained teeth.
“Welcome back, young music child!”