Untitled Melody

“Hey Collins! Aren’t you going home yet? I’ll go ahead.” a lady on his back said, she was looking over is shoulder staring at his monitor.

“Oh yeah, it’s 7 already? I haven’t even started my first paragraph yet Lucy. The deadline’s closing in on me... Again. I don’t know what to do.” I replied as I leaned back bending my ergonomic chair to the furthest it can go testing its limit.

“Take a breather Jake, take a walk, just relax. Have you seen yourself in the mirror recently? You look like shit. Literally.” she said smiling as she threw her blazer over her shoulder. Lucy Graham, the Goddess who was born in London.

I watched her hip moved side to side while she gracefully walked out of the office. Her blonde hair swaying with the air as she moves, putting me into a half hypnotized and blissful state. She really is a beauty, that is also why, half of the whole building is trying to get into her pants, luckily, but unfortunately for me she’s too intelligent to let any douche come near her personal zone. 

By the way, I’m Jacob Collins, I work as a creative writer for a magazine, and that treasure right there is my boss. Yes, I dreamed of sleeping with 'The boss', if she’s that hot and that smart, who in his right state of mind wouldn’t, right?  Our deadlines are less than two weeks away and I still have no title for the next feature article. 

I'm a creative writer, but just like every fruit, my juice runs out after some squeezing. After a few more times scrolling down my facebook news feed and aimlessly searching key words on google I decided to call it a day and go back home to my lovely apartment, which is by the way I haven't paid in two months. It's not that I don't have the money for it, I just like to piss my landlady off, she is just like an M-16 shooting words in rapid succession when she comes collecting the delayed payment. 

Every day, I walk from the office to get home, every single day, it's just 3 blocks away, yeah lucky me. I would take my sweet time to enjoy the scenery and the faces I can almost memorize in everyday encounters. I would occasionally stop by the bench facing the lake in an attempt to somehow unwind and relax my inner self. And in this particular day something unexpected was bound to happen, the day that I will stumble upon my greatest story, the story that will change my monotonous life. 

I was walking past the bench when I heard a calming music coming from  what seems to be a flute. I'm not a musician but I know the sounds of common instruments.

I stopped on my tracks and walked near the bench. There I found an old man wearing a white shirt and a brown pants with a painter's hat on his head. I looked over his shoulder and confirmed that it was a flute that I am hearing. I stood there in silence and listened to the beautiful melody. I was drifting away with the tune when he stopped after a couple of minutes. 

The music is wonderfully arranged but there is something wrong about it. I have this feeling that there is something strange about it. I stood there motionless as if waiting for the old man to play it again.

Minutes turned to hours but he didn't even placed the flute near his mouth again. A young girl walked to him and he went with her. I waved at her and she smiled. I started walking home after they were gone thinking that it can't be helped. 

The next day, I progressed a little. I managed to type half a page after trashing 10-15 pages of scribbled words. Nothing really stuck to me, other than the skirt Lucy was wearing, the tip of the pen she occasionally bite with her red tender lips, sometimes I'd like to think that she's just dressing nice for me. Well, a man could dream right? Eight hours of 'researching' passed and still I am not even close to having a solid topic for my article. 

I threw the white towel for the day and started my lone journey back to my dungeon. When I got closer to the bench, my bench, I heard that tune again, only to stop at the same spot as yesterday. And again I waited in vain. The old man didn't continue. Was that all he can play? With a disappointed look on my face I called it a day. 

Three more days passed, and the same thing happened over and over again. This time I couldn't take it anymore I sat beside the man and asked him why he had stopped.

“I thought you'd never ask. You listened to my music the first day I came here. Thank you for that.” he said. 

This time I realized something that I have noticed before. His eyesight must be really bad with those cataracts, maybe he's close to being blind.

“I really love the tune you were playing, but something is off like...” he interrupted me and said

“Like it's not finished?” he smiled as I nodded in agreement.

“Indeed it isn't finish. I wasn't able to finish it. I couldn't.” as a good man that I am of course I asked why.

“It's quite a long story. But I'll be happy to share it with you if you will be so kind to listen.”

“Oh please, I have all the time in the world.” 

“It all begun in the summer of '69. I was a musician, a struggling composer of ballad songs. I would travel country to country just to be heard. That's where I met my wife, Alison. She was a singer in a club. She does country and a little pop. I met her at a bar where she has a mini show and I have a little too much to drink. I can't even see straight but my hearing is sober enough to hear an angel singing. Just like what you did, I came back every single night just to hear her sing. And every day I would think of a new song that I could make her sing if she would just look at me. “

“There was this one night, the first time I saw her picking up a guitar and playing it. She's actually pretty good. She was strumming right into my heart. She's picking every little strings attached to my body and into my soul, she had me on every chord. She was playing while slowly pulling me in closer and closer. That's when I decided that I should conquer everything and talk to her. So in that particular night I waited for her outside of the bar.” 

That's when the girl walked up to us and told us that it's time for her grandfather to go.

“It can't be helped then. I shall see you tomorrow. I presume.” I said.

“You got it son.” he replied.

We went our separate ways but my mind still hanged onto his story. He told it with such simple details but I can feel that I am actually there. What a strange man.

To be continued...

Hey there!!!

I just brought you another old piece of literature from my distant past. This is something I have written like a decade ago, or something? I can't really recall but it's a truly old writing of mine. Well I was just reading it last night and I thought I'd share it with you. The continuation will be posted later.

Thanks for dropping by and as always ...

Cheers!!!