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The Story:
Every day, he threw a red backpack over his shoulder and hauled his stool down to a street corner. When he was young, his father had told him to always dress for the job he wanted to have. The decades of watching and studying various blues musicians had heavily informed his attire.
One afternoon, after having had a slow start to his day, he chose a corner with a moderate amount of pedestrian traffic to set his stool down. He unzipped the backpack and retrieved a B minor harmonica. Sitting on his stool, he took a deep breath and began to play.
In his mind he heard a parade of notes forming the most engaging blues music any disparaged heart had ever sung. But in the air, his ears heard a disconnected chorus of grumbling sound waves.
An accident from a job he didn’t want to dress for had left his hand paralyzed and dysfunctional. He could hear the melodies, but no one else could.
Like every day, he hung his head and started to cry.
“Why don’t you give up?”
He lifted his watery eyes to see a young girl standing in front of him. She appeared to be homeless, too, but he knew all of the local homeless.
She tried again.
“Why don’t you give up?”
“Why should I?”
“You can’t play. You’re broken.”
He wasn’t sure he had an answer to her rude question, but he wouldn’t deny it. He was in fact broken. But he still played, which mocked the brokenness. Playing was his refusal to accept his condition—an insanity that kept him sane.
“I don’t give up because all broken things can be mended.”
She smiled at him and stepped closer to his stool.
“I believe that too.”
In a flash she reached out and grabbed his injured hand. A shockwave rippled through his body, stopping at his eyes. Darkness consumed his vision for a few moments. He grabbed at the air in a panic until the light found its way back into his eyes.
She was gone. But as soon as his vision returned, he knew. He put the harmonica to his lips, closed his eyes, and began weaving notes.
For the first time in over a decade, the notes in his head and the notes in the air matched perfectly.
What do you all think of this story? If you want it to be included in the voting for the next short film, be sure to let me know in the comments below!