saxaphone // kinan jarjous


Rain pressed against the windows, giving off a light aura of heat as the ice cold water brushed against the warm window. He sat inside on a small chair with a cloth topping, patterned with red squares and green borders. He wore a 2 day beard that speckled his face in salt and pepper.The rain pressed on, hard, relentless and adamant. It could have killed any flying bird. It blackened his outside world but a few feet, barely killing the light from a lamp post two floors below.

“Lord, my only Solace of this Dark Night.. praise be to you, for my darkened life,” he sighed to himself.

The fireplace was made of red bricks and larger, gray stones. It formed a small arch. There was enough wood left to keep the fire on for a few more minutes, but the room was warm enough for now. There would be no need for it to be warm.

Three pictures in dark brown iron frames sat on top of the marble above the fireplace. One was of him and his dog, a big gray and white Alaskan Hound. The two other pictures were of him and his daughter. A bright 6 year old girl, lollipop in her mouth in one photo, and incomplete teeth in the other. She was wearing a patched red and orange jacket in both pictures. She was smiling and hugging her father, showering him with affections and unconditional love.

They had great times together. She would hum a tune she made up herself, and then he would realize it in his saxophone. She’d then hum along him as he played her favorite imaginary songs. She’d often dedicate her unsung words to her mother, whom she lost her memory of. Her father told her that her mother took the dog to see a doctor in another country, far far away, and she would one day come back with lots of gifts and little puppies. She’d love the puppies, she told her father, and would raise them until one day she can take each one of them to the doctor in the far country and come back with more puppies.

Her father could only smile, and assure her he’d be waiting for her, as he had been waiting for his wife. His daughter will nod her red cheeks and chew on her lollipop. She’d then go sit by the window where he is sitting now, and hum another tune to herself.

He let out a deep breath that condensed on the window. A happy face appeared momentarily, with the words “miss you” scribbled underneath, before it disappeared again with the vapors.

He looked over to his left to see his saxophone placed on his couch. He had played his daughter’s favorite tune earlier. They had called it “Star Stealing”, because his daughter said that one day she would grow up and would catch all the stars that would try to drop out of the sky, and take them for herself. He had bought a special box for her to keep the stars, and he placed some glitter inside the box. He had told her that those were the stars captured by the previous owners of this unique magic box. She had protected it with all her life, and would wait for the day she would become old enough to carry on the legacy.

He closed his eyes, and felt relaxed. He let out a long, deep, warm breath. A bottle slipped from his hand.

“Lord of the Night, Lord of the Light, in Darkness I shall understand the Light, in your Light I shall find them again,” he whispered, shivering now, cold, the world slowly darkened around him. The reflection of the fire on the saxophone slowly faded away, a fragment of a dream.