Write about a NYC busker whose music is magic.
The busker’s melody holds a power Tony is unaware of, until he’s held within its grasp. Some kind of strange force exists in the city and he has just discovered it. But an unknown figure appears and he is saved – just.
Tony’s alarm went off at seven sharp, piercing his skull and vibrating his side table like an earthquake. It made no difference to his state of sleep, however, as he had circled the depths of sleep without succumbing once throughout the night. Adrenalin had simmered from deep in his stomach, anxious thoughts circulating through his bloodstream. His fingers danced as he reached for his glasses, placing them over his nose, covering the bags that hung below his eyes. Nothing like the sparkle of the big city job lifestyle.
Standing up he shook his hands free of the nerves and made himself his morning coffee. Looking out the tall window on the wall of his one-bedroom apartment he saw soft snow silently falling to the ground. I need to get there early, he thought, aware that snow in New York City was renowned for slowing down transportation and delivering everyone to work just late enough to annoy their bosses. The bitter aftertaste of his cheap coffee coated his throat enough to break the dryness from the night. Strapping his bag over his shoulder he was finally ready to be a New Yorker for another day.
He zipped his jacket up as far as it would go, making a note to visit the thrift store later that day for one that was better suited. Corduroy was a favourite of his, but something with down was the best way to tackle the falling winter. The crowds awkwardly jostled, people zig-zagged in all directions and he struggled against the slush covering the footpaths.
As he wandered a sound cut through the wintry mayhem, one not uncommon for the streets of the city – a saxophone. A busker stood on the opposite street corner, playing well-known melody lines and jazz tunes that felt familiar, but ones he couldn’t quite remember the names of. He stood watching, clouds of condensation pouring out of his nostrils as he observed. The busker’s eyes were closed, allowing their ears to choose what note came next. Tony looked on in admiration, a wry smile reaching the corner of his mouth. The busker seemed…free. With a sudden shiver shooting down his spine he picked up his feet to keep moving, weaving back into the sidewalk traffic.
The day was, as always, like every other day when you work in a high rise office building. Meetings, to-do lists, office gossip and report writing all featured. He enjoyed a salami panini from the cafe downstairs for lunch, grabbed a new jacket from the thrift store as planned, and otherwise just did the work. Life as an adult really was rather glamorous.
He worked a bit later than usual, hoping to give himself a lighter workload the next day. As he wandered home he heard the familiar sound of the busker. The ice and dirt below his feet crunched as he turned toward the sound, deciding that he was already late, he didn’t need to rush home just yet.
The busker wore a long brown coat, a dusty red scarf around their neck and a black Fedora, the brim set low. With the stark shadow created by the bright street light above, Tony couldn’t make out a face. The street was mostly quiet now, a few passers by wandering across the street. Looking down Tony could see a few coins had been flung his way. He reached into his own pocket and found a few coins to add to the collection.
But the very second his coins landed a power took hold of him and the busker turned suddenly toward him, the saxophone drawing him in. He could not move, helpless against the force of the music now engulfing him. He struggled, attempting to free his feet but he’d been trapped by an invisible magic. The busker had imprisoned him.
His heart beat wildly, his mind racing for answers. Why was he stuck? What was the busker doing? His muscles had been paralysed and no amount of effort lifted his feet from the cold, wet concrete below him. The music circled, drawing him closer and closer to the ground. Looking down he noticed a swirling open up in the ground – an urban tornado that would surely sink him to depths unknown. He tried to speak but his lips could not move, as if glue had been applied against his will.
The vortex below began to suck him down, his limbs feeling heavier and heavier. He strained against the pull, sweat filling his palms and his back muscles stretching violently. He was being abducted by the earth.
Suddenly a yell rained across the scene, and a line of bright light drew itself across the road from an unknown figure. The force attempting to absorb Tony dissipated and the busker recoiled in fury and screaming. Like a cloud of ghosts it dissolved into the distance and shadows of the street, shrieking in pain and terror. Tony looked up, gasping for air. The figure materialised in his vision, its blurry edges finally settling into a shape. A man – wearing tweed and a Fedora of his own – smiled warmly at him, patting him gently on the shoulder. He began to speak with a kindly, English accent.
‘Sorry about that ol’ chap. Went to get a cup of tea of course and my old mate had a crack, didn’t he? That’s my fault. Sorry! Run along now, I’m back on duty. Which way are you heading? I’ll get you on your way.’
Tony pointed feebly down the street toward his apartment.
‘Well, then, off your trot!,’ said the man, before shooting a ray of light at his back which pushed him along. Tony’s feet found the pavement again, beginning to pace faster and faster down the street. Looking back uncomfortably Tony began to run, breathing the night’s icy air into his lungs deeper and deeper. In the surrounding mist he didn’t see the gentleman raise his hand again, one last line of lightning extending from his fingertips, hitting Tony square in the back. Tony’s pace slowed, his mind emptying of the events he’d just experienced. He returned to a regular pace, wandering slowly back to his apartment. He dug into his pocket, pulled out his key, and went inside.
The gentleman, standing several blocks back, looked on. Another one saved.
Subscribe
Thanks for reading this story!
I’m currently working on my debut urban fantasy novel. If you like what you read here please sign up for updates below to hear when my novel is complete and ready for purchase.
Subscribe below for more stories sent to your inbox:
jessknaus.blog 
Leave a comment