by Jared Stone
News of the boys’ disappearance spread through the campus like wildfire, despite Lucian having kept his word to Sam to keep his mouth shut. All manner of theories were posited, from falling in an open sewer main, to serial killers, to psychotic breaks, to aliens, to demonic possession. Lucian thought everyone was being ridiculous, as no one could really know what had happened yet, and sheer speculation just grew and grew upon itself to totally preposterous conclusions. All he was sure of was that it was a real tragedy for Blake’s family, and he felt great pity for what they must be going through.
In light of this, the silent emptiness of the room had a profoundly depressing quality to it, and Lucian needed to get out. So, he grabbed a light jacket, locked his difficult room door behind him, and bounded out into the afternoon sun to enjoy the rest of his day.
The above-ground transit system had a stop only a few blocks away from his dorm, and a quick map search on his phone told Lucian that this was the easiest way for him to get downtown without taking an expensive cab ride. Lucian closed his eyes and looked up toward the sun to absorb some of the soothing energy hitting his face as he waited on the barren concrete train platform. Hopping on the next available car, Lucian sat and swayed as the train slid along down the tracks toward the city. In about half an hour, Lucian had arrived at what he believed was the correct stop, so he got up and stepped down off the car, onto the busy sidewalk.
Although Lucian had technically grown up in a suburb of the city a little over an hour away by car, his parents had seldom ventured into it when he was growing up. As such, the city always felt like some remote, far off land which could only be accessed for special occasions like museum visits, theater productions, and trips to the airport. Never was there a day that Lucian would go to the city just to walk around, and it therefore felt very large and imposing to him.
But I’m an adult now, thought Lucian. This is what adults do.
With that self-reassurance, Lucian began his saunter down the sidewalk, trying to look as though he was confident and knew where he was going. But he quickly realized he had no idea where he was going, and he had to stop mid-stride and stare blankly at his unrecognizable surroundings.
The street he now walked on was apparently named Lotus Ave, and Lucian couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony as he looked down from the street sign and saw nothing but gray asphalt and stone. Lotus Ave was specifically designated as a pedestrian street, meaning that no cars could drive on it. As such, the entire stretch of road was lined on both sides with kiosks and various performers of all sorts, who were entertaining passersby in exchange for cash. The sights and sounds of the city excited Lucian, though the chaos around him intimidated him too. So many colors and movements and noises overwhelmed his senses, and he needed to find something on which to focus, so as not to feel lost in a sea of sensory overload.
About half a block away, a large crowd had gather-ed off to the side of the street. This piqued Lucian’s interest, and he wandered over to that spot, dodging briskly-walking pedestrians from all directions, to see what had attracted such a throng of people.
Lucian was thankfully of a taller stature than most, and he could easily see over the heads in front of him and into the middle of the semicircle. There, crouched down with knees bent out in front, was a very old man. Lucian reasoned that he was most likely homeless, judging from the several layers of rags hanging down from his shoulders onto the ground. His long, white hair flowed out behind him and down his back in a tangled mass that resembled more of a bird’s nest than anything belonging on a human being. His skin was a dark brown, and Lucian could not determine whether this was his natural skin tone or the harsh effects of dirt and exposure to the elements. By the look of him, one would swear he had been there for ages, with his clothing and hair chronicling the long passage of time. His face was gnarled and scrunched up in a wide grin, showing a mass of crooked, yellowed teeth, and his impressively bushy eyebrows were raised up high. He looked so jovial as he sat there grinning, turning his head from side to side at the crowd while his abnormally large earlobes swayed back and forth to an unheard rhythm.
The crowd around him seemed delighted to just watch in wonder this strange little man, so amicable was his disposition that it seemed infectious. Lucian suddenly felt joy looking at the stranger, and the foreign expanse of the city around him seemed to melt away as he became completely engrossed in the squatting figure.
Without any discernible reason, the little old man suddenly stopped swaying and sat in motionless silence, his gaze blank and head tilted to the side. The crowd stared at him, as if hypnotized by his every move, frozen in anticipation of his next action. The man sat in silence for about a minute which seemed to stretch on into eternity, and no one around him moved in the slightest during this time. Then, without warning, the old man seemed to snap out of his daze and exclaimed, “Music!”
The crowd broke into cheers, clapping, and laughter as the shriveled old form unfolded himself and stood up, though still remaining hunched over from the accumulation of many years upon his shoulders. From the bottom of his feet to the tip of his head, he could not have been over five feet in height; but, though the crowd around him dwarfed him in size, he had the illusion of filling the entire center of the encircled onlookers with his presence. Reaching his gnarled hand inside his ragged garments, he pulled out what appeared to be a flute carved out of some dark wood, the exact kind of which Lucian could not identify. Slowly putting the mouthpiece of the flute to his wrinkled lips, a hush fell over the crowd, and all leaned in attentively to catch the first note that would issue forth.
With a deep breath in, the old man exhaled and sent out the first wave of harmonious sound into the crowd. The high-pitched voice of the flute lingered for a moment at the outset, then dropped to a lower depth, sending the crowd swaying along with it. The instrument continued to issue forth wave after wave of melodious energy, and the crowd was absolutely spellbound. The music was like a journey, traveling through high mountain peaks, expansive fields, and low valleys. Although he did not recognize the song, Lucian felt an epic quality to it which held within it the knowledge and experiences of days long past. The little old man in the center had become more of a flame than a human, twisting and swaying along with the melody in a manner that seemed to require a much younger, more limber body than he currently possessed. Effortlessly, he bent down low as the notes dipped down with him, then rose again as the music reached a crescendo, straightening out the length of his body so that he seemed to stand taller than any of those around him. All the while, the mass of hair and oblong earlobes jumped around and danced along with him, as if they possessed a spirit all their own.
Lucian stood there, entranced, as the music finally reached its last note, which faded very slowly and lingered even longer in the ears of its listeners. The crowd remained motionless, spellbound, as the old man once again stashed his flute within the folds of his ragged exterior and slowly lowered himself back down into a squatting position. After a long period of silence, hands began clapping from somewhere in the back of the crowd. Then, one after another, the onlookers seemed to snap out of a dream and put their hands together in applause, until it had built up to a roar of appreciation and amazement.
The old man sat motionless beneath the street lamp above him as the people around him rushed in to compliment him and lay money down at his feet, though he had never asked for any as far as Lucian could remember. Quite a significant pile of bills began to accumulate in front of him as the crowd slowly dissipated and faded away again into their distracted, busy city lives. The shriveled old man continued to sit there, unmoving, in silence.
Wait…. Street lamp!? thought Lucian as he looked around him and saw that, as night had descended upon the city, all the lights up and down the street had been lit. But it was barely afternoon when I arrived! How long have I been here listening to this strange musician??
As the last onlooker turned to leave, Lucian walked up to the little man on the
ground, reached into his wallet, and pulled out a $5 bill, which was all he had on him. He wished that he had a $1 bill instead, as even such paltry money was significant to a poor college kid. But alas, he did not, and he felt that it would be too rude to leave without some sort of display of appreciation. Lucian laid his contribution down atop the pile of money and said, “Thanks so much. That was really great,” after which he stood up and turned to head back to the transit station. He wanted to get back to the dorm quickly so he would have some time to eat and watch a TV show or two on his laptop before bed.
“Young one…,” said the gentle, raspy voice of the old man behind him as he took a step to leave. “We are here now. Join me on the way.”
As soon as Lucian turned back around, he suddenly encountered the ragged musician standing hunched over not two feet in front of him. In one hand, the man carried the numerous dollar bills which had been graciously offered to him by his adoring fans, and, in the other, he held a wooden walking stick that was almost as tall as Lucian and seemed to tower above the old man. The stick was very plain, with a contorted, knotted portion on top and only slight twists and turns as it flowed down through the elder’s hand and onto the ground. Lucian hadn’t noticed this staff before, but he reasoned that it must have been placed up against the wall or behind the crowd somewhere.
The tiny man looked up at Lucian with a giant smile of jagged yellow teeth and raised, bushy eyebrows. At such a proximity, Lucian had expected him to smell terrible, but it was actually quite the opposite. Lucian breathed in an unexpected freshness that was almost fragrant; not in an artificial way, but more reminiscent of a field full of wildflowers. Still, the uninvited closeness of the man was unsettling to Lucian, and he stepped back a couple of feet.
“Errrr…, okay,” said Lucian hesitantly as he began to walk slowly with the old man hobbling alongside him down the center of the walking street. Lucian didn’t know why he had agreed to accompany the strange little man in his meanderings, but he felt inexplicably drawn to this tiny individual.
Am I just trying to be polite, or do I just feel bad for him? Maybe it’s cuz I’m afraid he’ll go crazy if I don’t? Is it something more? Lucian mused over these questions as they continued their slow stroll down the street.
They walked without speaking for a while, with Lucian feeling extraordinarily uncomfortable and the old man acting as though the elongated absence of words was nothing out of the ordinary. Lucian didn’t want to be rude to this obviously mentally unstable older gentleman who just needed some company, but he also had no idea what one should say in such a situation as this. And thus, Lucian’s silence continued down the block.
“You are bright,” said the old man suddenly, finally cutting through the discomfort of the silence with an even more uncomfortable, totally random assertion. He stayed staring straight ahead as he slowly made his way down the street.
“Umm, thanks…,” said Lucian, not really knowing how to respond.
With this, the old man looked up at the boy and smiled again with such earnestness that Lucian couldn’t help but smile back. Then, without warn-ing, Lucian’s elderly companion abruptly stopped and turned toward a homeless man who was sitting on the ground against the stone wall next to them. This poor soul was dressed in rags similar to the tiny musician’s, but his scruffy, tired face displayed a sadness, even hopelessness, that was completely different. Reaching out, Lucian’s new acquaintance gently bent down, took the homeless man’s filthy hand, opened it up, and stuffed the whole wad of dollar bills he was carrying into it. The generous musician said nothing in regard to this random act of kindness, and only provided yet another wide, crooked smile. The downtrodden stranger looked up in disbelief, then back down at the pile of cash in his hand. There was a light which slowly crept back into his eyes as the realization of the circumstances dawned on him. The elderly musician then stood up without ceremony and continued walking down the street, leaving the man against the wall bewildered and awestruck. Lucian felt the same.
“What did you do that for?” Lucian asked. “Don’t you need that to eat? You worked for that money!”
“HA! Need!” mused the old man loudly, shaking his head side to side as he continued to shuffle down the street next to Lucian.
Apparently, that was the only answer Lucian was to receive, and so he turned away from his peculiar companion again and continued on forward. Much to his delight, he looked around and now found himself back at the train station. The old man had serendipitously led Lucian directly back to where he wanted to go, though there was no way the stranger could have known such a thing. The two of them came to a stop at the boarding platform just as a new train was approaching from the distance. For some peculiar reason, the boy and old man were the only ones waiting there, which struck Lucian as very odd, given the time of day and the hustle and bustle he had just encountered in the city. Perhaps more people drive cars into the city than I thought, the boy pondered.
Lucian turned to his company for the evening and said, “Well, it was a real pleasure meeting you.” This was said more out of courtesy than anything, as the night walk had actually been very confusing and unnerving in its strangeness.
The old man turned, looked up right into Lucian’s eyes, and simply said, “He is here.” His face was very serious as he said this. Lucian glanced around quickly but saw no one, and he concluded that the elderly individual must have been referring to the train. Lucian looked at him for a moment as he stared back with a stern countenance. Then, as if he had forgotten all about the gravity of the moment just before, the ancient musician again broke into a gigantic smile.
Lucian didn’t know how to respond to this, and so he looked away and over to the train that was just arriving at the platform. As the train came to a stop and the automatic doors slid open in unison, Lucian turned around again to say goodbye to this strange person he had met. But, upon turning, he saw no one. Lucian was standing alone on the platform, with no sign of the little old man anywhere.
Lucian glanced back and forth for a minute, feeling perplexed and very uneasy. A wave of sensation flitted up his spine, resulting in a slight tremor through Lucian’s body. What a super weird day…, thought Lucian as he stepped up onto the train, looked back over his shoulder one last time to the empty boarding platform, and found a seat in which to travel back to campus.
* * *
Lucian got back to campus just in time for dinner. His head was still filled with questions regarding the events of earlier that evening, but he forcibly pushed them aside to consider what he wanted to eat, for he was also suddenly ravenously hungry.
Though his school was near several options for sit-down restaurants and fast food, Lucian normally found himself eating alone in the student dining hall. He had never been the most adventurous eater, and, if he found a place he liked, he would seldom branch out to other options unless someone coerced him into doing so. If I know that I like it, why find something else? he thought to himself as he strode down the path to the large square, brick building. Additionally, Lucian still had not met anyone he would consider a friend outside of simple classroom interactions, and he felt far more pathetic sitting alone in a restaurant environment than in the student dining hall. Willow was the only fellow student with whom he had even held a conversation for an extended period, but she had moved around to different seats of the lecture hall over the past week, far away from Lucian. He was concerned that he had unintentionally offended her with his slighting of her witchcraft delusions in their most recent interaction, but he couldn’t be certain. Whatever her reasons, Lucian found himself once again grabbing an assortment of plates from the serving counters and swiping his card to take the credit off of his student account.
Sitting down at an empty table for four, Lucian arranged the various items on his tray in preparation to devour them. The meal options that night were oddly reminiscent of Thanksgiving, with turkey and gravy and mashed potatoes. There was no stuffing or cranberry sauce, but it still made
Lucian feel that they were jumping the gun a bit by serving this meal over two months before the corresponding holiday. He had also grabbed the mixed vegetable option but was pretty certain he would not actually be eating it. Lucian had always hated vegetables, especially the pile of carrots, peas, and corn before him. He had mostly picked up the atrocious side item because it felt somewhat vindicating to at least have it on his tray. On the other hand, he was extra excited about the dessert: a monstrous slice of chocolate cake. It sat there, all moist and decadent, and it took everything in Lucian’s power not to just dive right into the cake first and disregard the “responsible” part of his dinner entirely.
After taking a sip of his water, Lucian picked up his fork, scooped up a wad of mashed potatoes, and took a bite. Out of the corner of his eye, Lucian saw a figure approach the table and stop next to him.
“Is this seat taken?” asked a deep male voice with an almost joking inflection. Looking up, Lucian saw the bright, perfectly symmetrical smile on Sam’s face beaming down at him.
Almost choking on the potato he had just placed into his mouth, Lucian sputtered out, “No, not at all!”
Sam set his tray down at the seat across from Lucian. Pulling out the chair, the older boy removed his red and black athletic jacket and hung it on the back of the seat. As he sat down, the muscles beneath his tight black t-shirt and in his chiseled arms flexed, and Lucian caught himself staring before quickly averting his eyes back to the tray before him. Sam sat for a minute grinning at Lucian as the young boy fumbled with his fork and knife to cut his turkey.
“So, Lucian,” began Sam as Lucian shot his gaze back up into the older boy’s bright hazel eyes. “How have your first couple of weeks been?”