Music in the Park

[hazlogs]

[Harbor Park Fountain, 3/25/97]

Erik wanders into the park, his steps slow and drifting, a tall shadow with a
violin case at his side. He pauses, lifting his head to scan the park, and
his attention is caught by the other musician. He hesitates, watching, then
wanders warily closer.

Dusty's foot taps slowly as he begins to play, carefully fingering each chord
as if the piece is new to him.

Erik wanders closer, drawn to the music as iron fillings to a magnet, but it's
as though there's an invisible line drawn around Dusty, a boundry of
personal space he doesn't dare cross.

Gradually, Dusty's playing speeds up a bit as if to full time, and he mouths
words to go with the music, though he doesn't sing them. He seems unaware of
anything ro anyone around him, wholly absorbed in his project.

Erik's body sways slightly in time with the music. After a few moments, he
begins to sing softly, a tenor counterpoint, wordless, unearthly in its
beauty.

The music pauses for just a bare second, then continues. Dusty finally glances
up briefly, but doesn't spare Erik more than a glance before looking back
down at his sheet.

The masked singer seems too helplessly absorbed in the impromptu duet to
notice the glance, or the few passerby who wander closer in idle interest.

Dusty's words finally become audible through the playing, his own voice a
lighter tenor appropriate to a boy.
They're off to find the hero of the day
But what if they should fall by someone's wicked way?

Harrier makes his way through the tall grass of the south.
Harrier has arrived.

Erik's voice falters a moment, then recovers. He continues to sing a wordless
counter-melody, gangly body drifting side to side in time with the guitar
music. He doesn't know the lyrics, obviously, but it doesn't seem to matter.

Dusty's foot taps a bit hard from where he is sitting on the ground playing an
acoustic guitar with some hesitancy, obviously sight-reading, but with a
power to match the lyrics.
Still the window burns
Tiem so slowly turns
Someone there is sighing
Keepers of the flames
Do you feel your name?
Can't you hear your babies crying?...

Harrier pads slowly up from the meadow to the south, the noises of human
voices and guitar drawing him as much as the squirrels gathering food near
the flagstone court.

Dusty breaks off, letting the strings trail off gradually as he looks down at
the music one more time, frowning as if it had personally offended him.

The liquid syllables continue a bare moment longer before they, too, break
off, startled. Erik glances up, suddenly aware of himself and his
surroundings, and he seems to shrink.

Dusty finally looks up and around at the silence, his eyes resting longest on
Erik. Not with fear, but rather with a mild curiosity that seens to be
centered on the violin case.

Erik shifts his weight; masked or not, it's obvious that he's nervous. "Um."

Harrier makes his way to a rather ordinary, inoffensive green painted bench,
lifting his leg on it before jumping lightly to the seat. He drops to his
haunches and makes a show of not paying anything too much attention for very
long - including the musicians.

Dusty shifts beneath the weight of the guitar on his lap, looking back down at
his feet. "Um?"

One gloved hand strays to the violin case; the touch seems to steady his
nerves somewhat. "You, ah... you play?" A stupid question, of course, and
Erik seems to cringe as soon as it's out of his mouth.

Dusty only shrugs diffidently, and with a wave of the hand shooes away the
curious squirrel that has been rooting around in his guitar case. "Yeah...at
least that's what some people tell me. You?" He finally looks up at the
masked man, chewing thoughtfully on one lip.

As soon as the fat, too-curious squirrel scurries away from Dusty, Harrier
draws a bead on it: he's off the bench in a flash, the push he gathers
behind his back legs almost upending the green seat. The squirrel flicks its
tail once then rushes for a thin tree nearby; the big gray mutt ends up
kicking Dusty's guitar case as he passes.

Erik nods wordlessly. Despite the forbidding appearance, he seems far from
threatening.

Dusty's eyes snap to the big gray mutt as it kicks his guitar case, and a
scowl that for all the world looks like a snarl crosses his features. He
pointedly moves the case, laying the guitar gently in it, before looking
back up at Erik. "Violin?"

Erik jerks back as the dog rushes violently passed, startling like a deer. He
takes a moment to answer Dusty's question with another nod. "Usually,
anyway."

Harrier seems to have forgotten the two humans already, and is circling the
skinny tree that his squirrel went up. He barks once, but is otherwise quiet.

Dusty looks over at the dog, then back at Erik, reaching over to snap shut the
guitar case. "Um, I gotta go...my mom's gonna come looking for me if I
don't. Nice talking to you..."

Erik shuffles his feet. "Um, likewise." Even when not singing, that soft tenor
voice contains a startling beauty.

Dusty jumps to his feet, seeming only slightly nervous. "And you got a really
nice voice, too." He grabs the guitar case.

Erik seems startled by the compliment. "Er. Thank you..."

Harrier rears up, placing his big front paws awkwardly on the tree, forcing it
to bend slightly under his weight. The squirrel jumps nervously to a branch
it thinks is more secure and the mongrel howls excitedly, tail a whir of
motion.

Dusty turns and, guitar case in hand, heads away from the park, looking once
briefly at the mutt.
Dusty makes his way onto the street in the west.
Dusty has left.