A Cold and Heartless Lullaby -Chapter 3-

The red evening sun skimmed across the cobbles of Market Street and gleamed off the brass trim of the broad brick buildings and street lamps, casting long shadows over the still-bustling crowd. Graham sat on the curb, singing and playing his music to the few people that had gathered around him. His fingers plucked deftly at the custom-made square metal instrument in his lap, dancing along delicate strings while his song explored the nooks and crannies of the street, stealing the ears of the rich and impoverished alike.

Dogmatic market-goers gave him a look of disdain as they passed. Graham had a habit of winking at them. It was the type of wink that said, “Just try and stop me”. In Graham’s opinion, restricting music to worship went against the very point of music itself. What was the purpose of expression if it was restricted to reverence? Monks had no rhythm anyway. A few of the braver people in the crowd tossed a chip his way, usually a pittance, but at least it was something. He gave those people a different type of wink altogether.

With his song concluded, Graham reached up past his upturned collar and scruffy chin to adjust the round glasses that were trying to slide off of his nose. It was their favorite pastime, but it was too expensive to get them adjusted. Music didn’t pay quite as well as crime did, but in some ways that Graham knew all too well, crime cost more in the end. 

The two years he had spent in prison as a teenager had been a violent wake-up call. The experience still affected him even thirteen years later. Back then, delinquency was a way to escape from the overbearing scrutiny of his parents. He had wanted to spite them, to make his own decisions, but in the end, the road he had chosen to walk led him astray. Freedom, he discovered, had not been its destination. 

Screwdriver in hand, Graham busied himself tuning his instrument for the next song. It never stayed in tune for long, but Graham was impressed by how good it sounded considering he’d built the thing himself. In his excitement over the process of figuring out how to play it, he had forgotten to give it a name, but that didn’t matter. 

Music, Graham found, gave him the liberty he was searching for. When he let loose and sang out at the top of his lungs he felt like a bird soaring over the city. It allowed him to forget the past he had left behind and feel, just for a moment, that he could start over.

There was a slight commotion as a young woman pushed her way to the front of the crowd, a brunette in a short green dress. She recognized the attention she had brought to herself and rubbed her arm self-consciously. Gathering her courage, she held out a chip to Graham.

“Do you take requests?” She asked. Graham adjusted his glasses, surprised by the question. 

“I’m afraid I don’t play anything you would hear in church,” he said, “It’s only originals from me.”

“Oh, I know! I’ve seen you around here a lot—well, I guess I’ve heard you around here a lot, and I really like that song you sing about the second plane.” She continued to hold out the chip, seemingly committing to the awkward posture. Graham couldn’t help but find it endearing. 

“Very well,” Graham said. He kicked himself internally for what he was about to say, “But I won’t do it for that chip.”

A look of panic flashed across her eyes and she lowered the coin, her hand reaching instinctively to her purse. Graham interrupted her before she could look for more,

“Let me buy you a drink when I’m done and we’ll have a deal.” Really Graham? We’re trying this again?

She blushed slightly, conscious of the crowd that was staring at her, “Oh, why not?” Noticing how uncomfortable she looked with her back to the crowd, Graham patted the curb next to him, 

“Come. Have a front-row seat,” he grinned. She did so bashfully, tucking her feet next to her as she sat. Graham gave her a wink, the kind reserved for his most generous patrons, and struck a chord as he began to sing.

“Take me to a place beyond this plane,

Leave it to my soul to bear my name.”

Her whole posture relaxed when he started signing, and to Graham’s surprise, he could faintly hear her singing along. How often has she been listening?

“Take my soul right in your hands,

 In the place where our lives began.”

Eventually, Graham forgot the crowd was even there.

…

Hours later, she sat across from Graham at a tiny round table nestled against the mossy outer wall of a bustling tavern, her dark curly hair bouncing lightly across her shoulders as she blathered on excitedly. Her wide almond-shaped eyes sparkled green as they rested among her delicate rounded features and when she smiled her dimples moved in the most fascinating way. The sun had sped across the sky and was already mingling with the pale blue waylight. The city nightlife’s clamorous harmony was distant and muted.

Jaylen. That was her name. Graham had already forgotten when she mentioned it. She looked at him expectantly with her captivating eyes and it dawned on him that he hadn’t been paying attention for the past five minutes. She was waiting for him to respond. In a slight panic, he looked for something to say,

“You said you worked at the discovery council?” Graham said, backtracking the conversation. Somehow, the crickets seemed louder than before.

“Yes,” Jaylen said, “only as an intern so far, but I think they really like me there.”

“What do they have you do there?” Graham relaxed a little.

“Oh, I mostly just help out the scientists, bringing them what they need while learning what I can from them.”

Graham laughed, “I guess it’s better than mopping the floors. Let me tell you, I’ve spent approximately three minutes of my life in that building and I already know I would rather die than become a janitor there.”

Jaylen laughed, “Yes, there is a lot of floor.”

“I’ve never seen a building that had so much unnecessary open space, you probably get a workout just walking around the place.”

“What about you, what do you do?” Jaylen asked.

“Well, obviously I’m a musician.” Graham grinned, bringing his drink to his parted lips in a suave motion. The bitter, fizzy liquid burned down his throat.

“Do you do gigs, outside of the market?” She leaned her elbows on the table.

Graham grinned, “I’m pretty sure if I tried to make people pay to listen to me the reverants would stone me.”

“Well, where I’m from the church isn’t so strict about music. We had concerts all the time when I was a kid.” 

“Well, who knows,” Graham said, taking another sip, “with grand leader what’s-his-face-The-Lesser stifling things, maybe I could eventually hold a concert. But let me tell you, the reverants around here are insane. If they could make us pay to go to service, they would.”

Jaylen choked, “Don’t say that! You’ll get excommunicated!” she said, holding back giggles with a smile.

“They’d love that.”

“I assume you don’t get away with your music without running into trouble, do you?” 

A few particularly angry reverants had interrupted his music before, it always created quite the scene. 

“Luckily, they don’t have quite enough power to sue me. Waylight knows they have enough money already,” Graham tilted his head back for another swig of his drink.

Jaylen was starting to get uncomfortable so he changed the subject.

“You haven’t touched your drink. Is there something wrong with it?”

Jaylen laughed. “You never asked me if I drink or not.”

“Do you?”

“Only on special occasions.”

“I would say meeting you is a special enough occasion,” Graham replied with a smirk. 

Jaylen tried to hide her smile by rubbing her knuckle under her nose.

“I am great aren’t I?” She picked up her drink and took a playful sip.

Rot, she’s cute.

…

By the time the starlines appeared in the sky Graham was standing in the street looking up at Jaylen’s doorstep. She looked down at him with an awkward smile, one hand on the doorknob,

“Thanks for the drink.” 

“I think I enjoyed the conversation a little bit more,” Graham said, his hands in his pockets. 

“And thanks for walking me home. I still have trouble finding my way around.” 

“It was my pleasure,” Graham smirked. There was a pause before Jaylen spoke again,

“Well, good evening,” 

Graham gave her a nod as she closed the door behind her and suddenly he was alone, staring at a yellow door. A cool night breeze wove through the neighborhood as he turned to head back home. Only a few tretts still rattled along the streets so late in the evening. Everyone was at home, relaxing and preparing for the next day. 

It had started to rain by the time he reached the park, droplets drumming on the ash tree canopy. Graham wandered the empty stone paths alone, letting the rain fall on his hunched shoulders. He was only careful to keep his instrument dry under his coat. Soon a stone statue loomed over him, high on its pedestal as it peered over the trees. Rynar The Lesser stood with a stoic expression, his iron fist clutching a ship’s helm. It was coated in graffiti, but his soldiers didn’t seem to care. Graham ducked under the pedestal’s metal stairs and made himself comfortable. The rain pattered loudly above him as he retrieved his savings from its hiding place under a rock and emptied the day’s meager earnings into it. With a sigh he settled back into the corner, preparing for another night of rain.

You should have taken the chip.