- a short story by Alex Taciak
The fog fills the city with dreams and madness. It hides everything. I don’t know what street I’m on. This fog never leaves the city. Since I arrived I have never seen the sun. I keep searching for the Unlucky Tavern on Dresden Street. As I wander, a street sign forms out of the cloud. It says I’m on St. Peter’s street. But I disagree; I think I’m on St. George’s or even St. Luke’s. But it doesn’t matter because I know that if I turn here I’ll be on Dresden. When I get on Dresden I know I will have to answer the question as to why I’m seeking the Unlucky Tavern. I try to think back to how I got here. I can remember some details, but I am unclear as to my own motives. Even now, I have no idea where this city is. I try to place myself a few days ago. I think I was lying in bed at the inn on Blackcap Street. My mind fades to the scene.
I’m staring at an unfamiliar wood ceiling. Faint piano music from downstairs floats through the floor. My voyage was unsuccessful. I can’t go home to my Father’s in Massachusetts. I don’t know what port I’m in. The maps are of places that I have never heard of. Besides, leaving would require sailing. I don’t think I will go sailing ever again. I remember seeing a girl playing the piano downstairs. I felt like talking to her but I also felt it wasn’t worth it. So I asked if I could have a room for the night. Even though I’m tired I can’t sleep. I’m too tired to sleep. I’m not going to sea ever again. What should I do now? When I was at sea there was always a job to be done. Now there are no jobs. Now there is nothing. If I went downstairs I would not be doing anything. But I’m too tired to sleep. I want to sleep.
My body shambles down the stairs. My mind is spinning in my head. I fall down into a chair at the far end of the room. I look around. There is an old man slouched over the bar. The piano is across from me. It’s a small piano singing a small and delicate song. I can’t see very well but I heard the music.
I listen. The song is soft and hushed. It is not trying to impose itself on anyone. Yet it pulls me in. It tells me that things are all right. It tells me to forget the sea and things I’d seen. It raises my mind up from its mess. I can think again. I open my eyes. The piano girl is porcelain pale; as if the fog that envelops this city had never let the sun touch her soft face. Her dress is as black as her piano, surrounding her softly with the music. Her emerald eyes are focused on the keys, intently making sure not to miss a note. She moves her arms and fingers with an unnatural grace. The song moves into a new movement, notes creating love and warmth out of cold sounds. She stops looking at the keys and she starts moving with the music, eyes closed. The song moves up, she breathes in, the song moves down, she breathes out. Fireworks burst from the piano, men’s voices cry out, leaving by night to go catch fish for their families who wave them goodbye at the dock. They watch as the Massachusetts landscape fades into the distance as the music becomes quieter and the sea spreads out before them. They become afraid that they will never see home again; the sea wind pushes them out. Then it leaves them. As the song ends she regains her form. She opens her eyes. I rub mine, coughing. I stand up. She puts her music book in a bag.
I want to give her a tip. But I have no money. I don’t even have a wallet. I walk over to the old man. His face is sunken, his beard heavy, his eyes barely open.
“Evening sir,” I say, “do you have any spare change?”
“And why exactly would you need spare change?” he asks, slamming his drink down on the table. “Aren’t you a seafaring man? Your tan gives you away. Didn’t get paid for your latest catch?”
“We didn’t catch anything. Seems to be less and less fish these days.”
“Why is that? Was your ship ugly?”
“The sea was too rough.”
“I see. And why do you need money anyway?”
I motion towards the piano girl. She walks out the door. Small black shoes wander to the next gig.
“Oh,” he says with a hint of a grin under his beard, “well I’m not giving you anything then. For that sort of thing you need your own money. It’s got to come from the heart or something like that.”
I start to walk away. “If you want a place to find money, go to the factory on the east side of town. They always need help over there.”
“Thanks.”
“If I were you though, I’d get out of town. Being here for too long would make you loose that tan of yours.” I get off the barstool. Walking out the door, I hear the old man say “She plays at the Unlucky Tavern on Dresden Street. Good luck to you.”
I leave the inn to make money for the piano girl. I step into the fog.
Fog filled stone streets turn everywhere. The buildings lean, old, falling. The water drips off the windows into the gutter. Street lamps shine faintly. I don’t know which way east is. Looking up I see the moon, or is it a clock tower? No help. A man is lying against a wall. A brown jacket blanket covers him. His head is burrowed into his chest. He holds a hat out into the street. I bend down. “Excuse me, could you tell me which way the factory is?” He stays silent. “Hey, you hear me?” He stays still. I walk on. The grey buildings form out of grey fog. A message is scrawled in black paint: “GOD WILL PUNISH THE UNION SCUM”. Below reads “RISE UP! THE UNION NEEDS YOU”. On another wall it reads “Sheep without a shepherd, wandering alone. Will green stars come out tonight, over the sea?” I come to two statues. They stand back to back. An iron man waves his sword. He wears a military suit, covered in medals. His eyes look away, anxious. We look into the gutter and I learn why he is afraid. People are moving down there. They move underground in dirty water. I turn away to his love. A marble woman, wrapped in robes, stands against the wind. Her hand extends to me. It extends to the stray cat that runs by. Its eyes are weary and its belly is thin. She looks down at us, embracing us, caring. The cat slips between my legs. Turning my head to the ground, I see a large cobblestone ‘S’. Walking around, I see a large ‘E’. I thank the couple. I go east. The cat is mewing to the white lady. The cat is crying in the fog.
The hum of machines rings in my ears. Deep flashes of red fill the dusty air. Vents blow hot air through the choked room. Men walk through dim light. Their stomps mark the heartbeat of the factory. No man is out of line. Workers move back and forth with the machines. Their faces are dull and stony. They repeat their motions. Swinging their leavers and hammers endlessly. Wandering through the small city of workers and machines, I see a fierce man wearing a dirty suit passing by.
“I’m looking for the manager.”
“You’re looking at him.”
“Oh hello then sir. I was wondering if I could work here for a while.”
“You will need to take that up with the Owner.”
“You don’t own the factory?”
“Nope and I don’t make much either. None of us do.” He starts to walk off toward a group of workers huddled behind a machine.
“Where can I find the Owner?” I ask
“Up” he says as he joins the circle of whispering men.
The stairs go on forever. The dust and smoke are choking me. My legs are tired. Finally I reach the end. I emerge into clean air. I still smell the smoke from downstairs. Things become clear and I can see the details of my surroundings for once. A large hall with elaborate lights surrounds me. The long carpet is red and the walls seem to be gold. Patterns of mermaids and whales line edges of the wall. The gothic vault has a painting of the second coming of Christ. In the middle stands the savior, separating the good from the bad with his sword of light and fire. The bad are hitting each other, pulling each other’s long hair, praying to their idols even as they step on their fellow worshipers throat. The good stand steadfast with pride, the light shining upon their unblinking brave faces. I stand underneath the evildoers, their angry eyes staring down at me. Walking across the hall, I enter the realm of the good and the lawful. I see a woman seated at a desk near the large door. She wears a form fitting dress with a large capital ‘M’ printed on it so I assume it is a uniform. Her face is anxious, busily typing with eyes glued on the computer screen. As I approach she pushes up her glasses and her face relaxes, glad to have a distraction from work. I ask if the Owner will see me. I tell her I’m looking for a job.
“No the Owner can’t see you. He doesn’t see people much anymore.”
“Oh then I’ll be on my way…” I start turning away
“No wait!” she says waving me back “I’m in charge of hiring people.”
“Oh alright then.” I sit down
“Okay.” she says tapping a few buttons on the computer, “I need you to answer a few questions. What is your name?”
“Daniel Kobor.”
“Any previous job experience?”
“I’ve worked on a fishing boat for most of my life. I started out in my father’s crab business. After that I went on to sail with Captain John Seymour. He was one of the greatest sailors to ever sail the sea and I’m proud to have served him.” The best parts of that life fill my mind for a moment before I focus on what she is saying.
“… that shows us you know how to work hard. Are you with the union?” she asks with a hint of disgust
“No. Should I be?”
“We wouldn’t hire you if you were.” she says as she types something into the computer, “If you took this job we would put you on transport duty. You would be going to the mines to pick up the coal. Do you think that would be a good position for you?”
“Yes I think I could do that. How much will it pay?” She tells me and I say that it sounds like enough. “We don’t get that response often,” she says “its good to hear. You can start immediately if you want. Our last driver vanished the other week and we need more coal.”
I thank her and walk away quickly. I begin to descend back into the darkness of the factory. This job would be something different from the life at sea I was used to. But I was on my way. On my way to getting money for the piano girl.
As I turn the key and start the truck I realize that I don’t know my way around town. I know the mine is on the other side, but that’s all I know. I have not been around in this city long enough. The truck vibrates as it comes to life. The headlights come on, illuminating nothing. I cannot see the road in front of me. The fog is too thick. I can see edges of buildings and I use these as my guides. Woe to the helpless bird or bum that can’t see my truck coming. I’m going very slowly because I can only see a few feet ahead. Cautiously, I make my way ahead, the truck lurching forward every few feet. I make a turn at the corner of St. John’s and St. Augustine’s. Something strange is starting to happen; I feel the truck beginning to move on its own. I can’t even see the edges of buildings now. The truck is getting faster, the speedometer rising. I try to hit the brake but my foot won’t move off the gas. Something else is moving me, something has taken control. I can see people, dark shadows in the fog, the truck rushing by them quickly. Yet I see their faces. Dark faces, sad faces. Empty stares trying to catch a truck moving faster than they ever have. I leave them amid the fog as the truck speeds on. There is just me, the hum of the truck, and the fog now. I can see waves in the fog. A ship sails out into the vast grey ocean, ready to try anything, ready to discover and gain a new catch. Captain Seymour looks off the starboard bow with his scope, charting a risky course. Crewmen stand at attention awaiting orders. Was that the sign for St. Paul’s street or was it our proud flag being raised? I’m falling. My mates are falling. Water rushes over the deck. The fish are jumping back into the deep from whence they came. The wave falls on me, sticking my body on the wooden deck. When I try to get up, when I try to grab the emergency brake, the water pounds me down again. The truck makes a sharp turn; my face hits the window. Just water, just fog. Is there anything left? I see a city, a bare city wrapped in fog. Its lighthouse is useless. I step on to a dock, new and unfamiliar. I’m not accustomed to the land. I try to walk when I am reminded that I can’t take my foot off the petal. The truck rolls on, the engine rattling. Now there is another shadow in the fog. It’s her. The piano girl’s emerald eyes look at me. The truck stops dead. I fall forward over the wheel. I tremble as I take my foot off the gas.
I’m lying in the truck. I am in no position to be doing anything. I hear a knocking against the door. I hear a shout “Hey you! You picking up this coal? You from the factory?” I nodded. Looking over I see a middle aged man in a hard hat. “Well then open it up why don’t you. I haven’t got all day.” He takes a long drag from his cigar as I scramble out. I unlock the back of the truck. Some workers emerge from the mine carrying wheelbarrows of coal. They begin pouring it in. I look over towards a dark cavern. “You’ll need to come to the office to sign some forms. It will only take a moment. My name is Joe, by the way.” The imposing man walks ahead of me. I follow him cautiously into the dark. He turns on his flashlight. The light shines down a long corridor. We walk by other workers with their full wheelbarrows of coal. Joe stops and walks into a door that is in the side of the mine, waving his hand for me to come in. I question the safety of having the office inside the mine. He doesn’t hear me. He flips through the files of paper and produces three sheets. “You need to sign here, and here, and here,” he says while handing me the pen. I sign my name.
“You’re a driver for the factory?” Joe asks, looking at the paperwork with downcast eyes
“Yes.”
“How long have you been working?”
“This is my first job.”
“You haven’t been in this city long, have you?”
“No. I got here just a day ago.” Was it really just a day ago? I can’t remember.
“So nobody really knows you then?”
“Not really.”
“How much do you make at this job?” I tell him and his voice becomes tense “That low? That’s criminal!”
“It is enough for what I need to do.”
“Listen, I’ve got a little job for you. I’ll pay you two hundred upfront. You get back to me, I pay you five times that amount. Interested?
“Yes I am.” This was an opportunity to get her something really nice, something she would be impressed by. I ask what I’m going to be doing, but I am already decided.
“I need you to deliver this letter to the Master of the mansion of St. Vitus outside of town. You may not know this, but you already work for him. He owns both the factory and this mine. The mansion is due north out of town. Just follow the main road. Good luck kid.”
Joe hands me the envelope containing the letter. “Don’t open it,” he says, “if you open it you won’t be getting paid.”
I walk out of the mine. I get into the truck, this time nothing strange happens. I still can’t see anything. Getting on the main road, I head north. As I exit the town the fog begins to clear. The thick clouds sweep away to reveal a clear night in the country. A full moon illuminates rows of trees. As I continue north these give way to the rocky slopes of a mountain. I look up to see a large house atop the mountain. The lights from the mansion of St. Vitus’ windows glean out in the darkness. Getting out of the truck I stare up at this old dusty castle of wood. Its huge door is a gaping dark hole. I put my hand into that darkness to knock. It opens.
I stand in the entrance hall, illuminated by candlelight. Suits of armor stand around me, flanked by religious artwork. They are pictures depicting the martyrdom of saints and the crucifixion of Christ. Lions feast on ancient Christian’s bodies, roman soldiers peeling their skins off. A woman calls to me from the staircase from above. She looks like the piano girl! But it isn’t her. She lacks the piano girl’s calming grace. She has her pale skin, but it is pale from fear. Holding her hands at her waist, twitching, eyes away from me, she asks, “Are you here to see the Master?”
“Yes, I have a letter for him.”
“This way please. He is eating right now, but I don’t think he will mind you joining him.”
She leads me into a dining hall. The walls are decorated with animal heads. At the far end of the room there is a man being attended by two servants. He wears a dark blue military uniform decorated with various medals, a small crucifix hanging around his neck. He has a large dark mustache that hides his thin lips. His brow is proud and furrowed; his eyes seem focused and sharp. “This person brings a letter for you Master.” the woman says, trembling.
“ I see.” he says, his eyes switching from the woman to me “What is your name?”
“Daniel Kobor”
“I see.”
“The manager of the mine, Joe, he gave me a letter for you.”
“I see. Will you join me for dinner? Tonight we are having roast chicken stuffed with beef as well as a rabbit stew. You can hand that letter to Tanya.”
“Um, sure.” I say, handing the letter to the woman. I find the man before me intimidating. He stares into me, his eyes searching my mind. I look off to the side, trying to concentrate on the dead animals. I notice there is a statue of the Virgin Mary among them.
“Do you like my animals? I call them my pets,” he says, chuckling at his own joke
“Honestly, they are a little unnerving.”
“I suppose you have to know the thrill of the hunt. I’m proud to say I’ve killed all of these animals myself. Each one of them gave me a unique experience, each one of them reminds me of their particular way of surviving. Some run, others turn and attack, still others curl up and die without a fight. It all gives me such pleasure. I wonder what kind of animal you are?”
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing. Tell me, do you have any hobbies?”
“None really. I’m finding myself rather busy these days.”
“I see.”
“But I do like music though.”
“Ah, yes. Music always takes one to another world, to places where the horrors of this one cannot reach.” he says, taking his eyes off me to look to the door. “Oh look, my guests have arrived.”
Through the door come several men in uniform. They salute the Master as they walk in. They take their seats. “Well, now that we are all here, let us feast.” the Master says raising his wine glass. Despite appearing as civilized upper class men, they grab the chicken with their hands. They eat fast and hurried, their teeth cleaving off juicy morsels of meat. They attack their meal. I slowly sip a bit of rabbit stew. It is a bit too rich for my tastes. The Master unfolds the letter. He reads it. He glances up at me. He looks down at the letter again. Dropping the letter to the floor, he laughs lightly.
“Well, it has been a pleasure dining with you, Daniel Kobor, but I’m afraid you have to die. Men, take this man out back to be shot. Au revoir Daniel. Au revoir. God bless you.” The servants grab my shoulders and jerk me out of my seat. “Wait!” I say, “What’s going on? What did I do?”
I’m being dragged through the long corridors of the mansion. I try to struggle against my guards, but they keep a harsh grip on me. We walk outside behind the mansion. There is a flight of stairs going down to the mountain. They begin to drag me down the stairs. With one last effort I pull my body weight onto one guard, taking both of us down off the edge of the stairs. Falling through the dark, I look back up to see the guard on the stairs peering over the edge. I hit the ground. Pain spreads through my body. Then blackness.
When I wake up its still dark. I’m lying on top of a dead guard. His eyes are open. A pain shoots through my ribs. Stumbling, I try to stand up. Looking up I can see the light from the mansion windows. They are blurry. I need to get back to the fog filled town, I need to get my money, I need to get something for her. Putting my right foot in front of me sends a pain through my spine. I’m sure I broke something. A figure emerges from the dark. I stumble down and fall back asleep. Water. Rushing water against the creaking wooden hull. Jones tells me to go up deck and get some more wood. Our knees are soaked. Outside the storm rages. I find a crate we can dismantle and use. Captain Seymour is shouting orders. He is the best. He seems to be in full control. But he knows that even the best sailor can’t always stop the storms of the sea. The beating rain muffles his cries. “Captain!”
“Captain? I don’t think I’ve ever been to sea.” I open my eyes to see a large bearded man looking down on me.
“It is good to see you awake. I found you lying in the forest at the foot of the mansion. How are you holding up?”
“I feel pretty bad.”
“I bandaged the parts that were bleeding.”
“How long have I been out?”
“About a day. Sunrise to sunset. What happened to you?”
“I went to the mansion to deliver a letter. When the Master read it, he wanted me shot. I managed to escape.”
“So you actually met the Master?”
“Yeah.”
“And he tried to kill you?”
“Yeah.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised.”
“Why?”
“Things have been crazy in town since he took power. He promised to restore traditional values in our city. He’s been clamping down on The Union lately. Lots of people disappearing, their names wiped from city records. He’s gathering a whole entourage of volunteers dedicated to his goals. Crazy stuff. That’s why I live here. It’s a lot more peaceful here. There is better weather too, for some reason. I don’t like the struggle of living in that city. It’s never been good for my health. People are always trying to involve you in their own battles. I mean, look at you, you got caught in something bigger than you. It’s a horrible place to be. It is much better out here in the forest.”
“I don’t understand why he wanted to get rid of me.”
“You can’t really know. He’s a fanatic. Must have seen you as part of what he wants to get rid of.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Well, anyway you are welcome to spend another night here if you want. Do you want anything to drink? It’s too bad the only thing I have is whisky.”
“No that’s okay,” I say, sitting up “I need to get going.”
“I know that kind of determination,” he says stroking his beard “I can’t say I blame you. But there comes a time when you just have to stop and get on with life. Take it easy a bit and make a living. And have you thought about her, I mean, as a person? You are bringing a lot of issues to her doorstep.”
“I can’t stop. I’m a seafaring man. I know where I need to go.”
I fly down the road on the man’s motorcycle. The fog is beginning to fill my head again as I speed towards town. The moonlight begins to vanish behind the cloud, the cloud that stretches out to sea. My hair feels wet against my neck. The road is slick but I go faster. I’m close. I can’t see ahead of me but I know I’m close.
It is early in the morning when I arrive back at the mine. I walk into Joe’s office without knocking. There is nobody there. Looking around the entrance of the mine, I hear noises coming from deep within the gaping tunnel. I go to them. Fog merges with darkness and soot. My feet sink down in watery muck. Air constricts around me as I run my hand down the rocky wall. The rocks are hands and they grab me. Pulling me down the corridor, I am lead by unseen forces to an unseen destination. My ribs shake with pain. Black air sucks me in.
Putting my feat down, hard, on the ground I say “No. I’m not doing that again. Let me walk myself. I have a mission. I’m doing what I want. If you think I’m doing what you want then you are wrong.”
Who was I talking to?
Seeing a dim light, I run as much as my ribs allow me. I see a group of figures huddled around a lone figure on a small stage with banners above him. It’s Joe. “Hey Daniel!” he waves to me as the other workers look at me “See you made it back. That’s good. You are just in time. We are planning our final march.”
“Where is my paycheck and what was in that letter?”
“It was our declaration of war. We told the Master he is no longer our boss. The Union is taking this city back for the people. We slave away in the mine, in the factory, for little pay all for what? So our beloved boss can push his so-called morality on us? This is it! We are going to run him out of town, we are…”
“I don’t really care. Where is my paycheck?”
“What? Don’t you care about your fellow men? Well whatever. I’ll give it to you later.”
“I need it now.”
“Goddamn it, I don’t have time for this. We are about to do something amazing and you are whining about money. Look just let us finish the meeting okay. Don’t tell anyone about this. If you do, I swear to God I’ll kill you. Just saying.”
“Sure, do what you need to do.”
I wait for his meeting to end. I see some people I recognize. There is the old man from the inn. There is the fierce manager from the factory. There is the secretary who interviewed me. There is one of the guards who seized me. Is that person there an old shipmate? “Fight! Fight! Rights! Rights!” they yell. Joe tells them his plan. “The Master will give a speech at the town hall at noon. We will make our stand then. Take whatever weapons you have. He will be guarded both by the police and by the volunteers who have so weakly fallen for him. I will get up on the roof of the St. Longinus building. I’ll fire the first shot at him. That’s your signal to charge.”
When he finishes they begin to file out. Joe approaches me. He hands me another envelope. I check this one. This time there is money in it.
“Thanks” I say.
“Yeah, whatever.” He gazes past me.
“Do you think you will succeed?”
“Who knows?” he says as he takes a drag from his cigar. “All I know is I have to do something. I’m in love with this city. I can’t stand to see it go to pieces because of some nut job. I really love it. When you love something you’ve got to protect it. Do you know what I’m saying?”
“I guess so. But I don’t think my love needs protection. If anything, I need protection.”
I round the corner of St. George’s Street. I walk into the small jewelry shop. Shades of emerald fill the tight room. Delicate crystals hang from the ceiling with abstract splendor. The light is divided in diamonds that bounce around the dark wood. “Welcome young one” an old lady says. Her graying hair covers her eyes, her body hunched over a gem that she studies with care and love. I look around the tinted room. It is filled with shiny horses and cherubs that fly into a sky that is peeling off the ceiling. My eye falls on a diamond treble clef pendant.
“I’ll have that one.”
“A very good choice.” She puts it in a small wooden box. “I warn you, take care of it. It is a precious thing. The world doesn’t seem to care for these kinds of things.”
“I will.”
While walking to Dresden Street a voice carries over the town square. Through the fog stands the Master atop the steps of the town hall. He calls on the people below, he calls them to bring justice. “In this world there is always conflict. It is a brutal contest; it is not pretty. This world is a battleground, a testing ground. The two sides are the humans and the animals, the hunters and the hunted. We know who we are. We know what our enemies are. Ours is the side of order. When we drive out the scum that pollutes this city we shall once again prosper. Perhaps God has abandoned us, but we will call him back. We are the good people, the ones who will live in peace. I will seek this peace by any means necessary, even those that would send me to hell for the good of the city. Because the power of righteousness knows no bounds, because evil must perish, I will stamp out all the thieves, the liars, the atheists, The Union stooges, and the perverts. This is a new beginning for this city, a time that begins not with the powerful, but with the meek who seek the justice of the kingdom of God!” He bathes in the cheering of the crowd, a crowd that I knew wanted him dead. He prepares to utter his next line, his next revelation. Then a gunshot. He falls to the ground. His body vanishes under the cover of the fog. The crowd roars, people scream, and the police rush in.
People run in every direction. A policeman swings his club into a man’s head and he goes limp. A Molotov cocktail sails into the town hall through the fog, fire bursting forth from the collapsing building. A woman sobs, a policeman slamming her to the pavement. Her face scrapes and bleeds. People fight and run. People dash across the street, the chaos in the fog chasing them. My mates run across the deck, the water and rain chasing them onto the lifeboats. Our catch was disappointing that season and now we were losing what we had caught. We entered the Devil’s Triangle as a short cut, Captain Seymour dismissing all the rumors. He thought he could handle it. “Abandon ship!” he yells to us. As we row away, I see him standing on the bow of the sinking vessel. He lets the water hit him again and again. But he never loses his grip; he never loses his balance to the storm. His head slowly vanishes beneath the waves. This city of fog is tricking me again. It confuses sea and land. I have to get to the piano girl to give her the treble clef. I hear a weak voice above the screams. “Why am I dying? If I die now I am a murderer. Why God?”
The fog fills the city with dreams and madness. But it doesn’t matter because I know that if I turn here I’ll be on Dresden Street. The Unlucky Tavern stands alone, sadly rotting away. It is a broken place with no future. And yet, as I approach, I can hear its love. Her love. A piano plays a soft calm song. It tells me that everything is all right and to forget the things I’ve seen. It channels sorrow into a hushed flow of sweet notes, drifting to better places, drifting to sanity, seeking solace. She moves into the next section, pulling me in the door. As I come in I see her hunched over the piano playing for her life, playing with her heart. She bangs out forceful shouts of joy. Her eyes are closed, she lets the notes flow from her. She has forgotten the rats scurrying by her feet in The Unlucky Tavern on Dresden Street. She has forgotten the rotten bar stools and the drunken man in the corner and the fog filled streets outside. The notes flow on and on, faster and faster, until she comes down again for the end. The calm returns with its love, returns with its silent beauty. It releases my mind from its mess and its fog. With a few quiet notes, she fades to silence. She looks up at me with eyes that shine like emeralds in the dark.
“Did you like my music?”
“Yes. Yes I did. What is your name?”
“Alice. May I ask yours?”
“Daniel. I really like your playing.”
“I’m glad Daniel.”
“I have something for you.”
I hand her the small wooden box. She opens it. She smiles. And with her smile, I can conquer a thousand seas.
THE END