Unwashed and Somewhat Slightly Dazed

A flash fiction piece inspired by the prompt of the Bowie song of the same name.

The old man wheezed a loose breath into a harmonica tarnished to a rainbow hue. The deepest and highest of his vibrating screams melted into the cacophony of noise battering the bones of all who stood on the subway platform. The vaguely copper smell of his instrument mixed with what most certainly was oil and urine to create an acrid stench which threatened to wrinkle even his mighty nose.

The song he was playing was an old blues tune so old the originator of it most likely felt like he was copying a melody etched in stone by god. His mind was completely off the simple four note progression as his eyes wandered, plucking potential payees from the captive audience as they passed his tattered bowler cap on the concrete floor. 

Without warning, the music began to shift. As if under it’s own accord inspiration struck his fingertips as they guided the metal mouth machine in new directions, producing a song which had an implicit emotional tone. It sounded like the kind of song that grabs hold of your heart and forces it to beat faster. The fluorescent glow of the subway seemed to pound out extra wattage as the song of life had escaped the old man’s withered lips. 

His eyes, previously darting from person to person, came to a sudden stop on the backside of a young man in a suit and tie. He was tired. Hungry, not in his stomach but somewhere else. It all clicked in a single moment as the old man ceased his hissing.

“Hey, kid.”

The young man turned around, yanking an earbud from an ear neatly framed by an uncanny undercut. Concern and confusion structured his face around vacant eyes.

“You’re gonna be okay.”

The young man’s expression of social duty fell away into true neutrality. His eyes, however, turned to pools as the sunshine of the man’s message reached into something deeper than he could bear to express. A curt nod, not of confusion, but of disbelieving reverence, returned the man to his earbuds as the blast of warm air from an oncoming train tousled the old man’s frazzled locks.

“She, not so much.” The old man chuckled to himself as he raised his harmonica to his lips, speaking softly as not to disturb the sonic cover of the train’s thunderous approach. 

Reviews

[read "Untitled Princess..]

i feel like it would make a cool movie scene

[Kelly Kepler]

I like it. Short and fun. And unexpected.

I like how you build the scene and set the mood.

And I really like the line, “You’re gonna be okay.”

Well done. Thanks. :)