The Night I Heard The Saxaphone
Rahil Ali, Grade 5, North Rocks Public School
Finalist in the 'Write As Rain 2014' competition
The overwhelming feeling of abandonment, which is well known to anyone who has trudged through the gloomy streets of London in the dead of night, nagged at my mind. The stone streets were breeding grounds of sadness and decay. The sight of a city that had been left to its own devices during the cold darkness of midnight was truly haunting. I clutched at my old ragged jacket, on the brink of tears, as I trudged onwards. The mazes of streets in this old and decrepit city seemed to close in on me, a hunter stalking its frostbitten prey. I walked onwards with no real knowledge of where I was going, with no real purpose. Until a sound, so beautiful and sweet, drew me into a narrow alley.
It was completely empty except for an old and ragged man, sitting in the corner, playing a saxophone expertly. I was amazed that such a man could even lift this jewel of an instrument, let alone play it with such talent. I sat there, opposite the man and gave myself to the music. It caressed my tired weary ears and took away all my pains, so I stayed; I stayed to hear the saxophone.
I could not tell if it were seconds or days that had past when I finally awoke. My eyes started to open and the overwhelming smell of the dirty city filled my nose, bringing me back into my consciousness. My drifting thoughts slowly formed memories of how I had got to be where I was. I remembered the saxophone, and the music and the old man but none of it made sense. I tried to look for help but no one was there, not even the wretched old man. All I could see was the saxophone, that wonderful instrument.
I picked it up with great care and as I did so my finger vibrated as the saxophone pulsated with energy, still only just beginning to awake, I put the tube through my lips and blew. The sound was heavenly and again I felt that wonderful feeling of happiness, so I kept on playing. I kept on playing, oblivious to all else in the world, oblivious to time, oblivious to all feeling. It felt so perfect so I didn’t stop, until a weary traveller stopped to listen…