Jazzman2017.01.28Free Writing

Making his passage known, Jazzman wiggled through the street like rubber. With a grin bigger than a slit cheek, eyes burning the lens of the security camera, transforming live footage into static.

To us, the Jazzman was nothing short of a magician. With his full white suit and matching shoes along with a flashy white hat, the Jazzman was nothing short of being the most stylish man you've ever laid eyes on.

"He's come for our money."

The dealer was nearing the end of his shift when Jazzman sat down at the table.

Popping his collar twice for good measure the Jazzman whispered his order into the ear of the lovely waitress who's knees almost buckled when the tip of his smooth tongue bounced off his two front teeth, sending an energy of sound winding down into the ground.

The dealer laid out the cards in order, revealing a Queen for the Jazzman.

"Twenty One."

"No doubt about it."

The boss' face looked grim as he looked on at the game from the pit.

After an hour, the jazzman cleaned us out. Leaving a generous tip to the dealer and the waitress, he vanished like smoke out the south garage. A valet brought his cadillac around and he jumped in leaving the scene without a trace.

Except that I was on his tail, following him on winding roads and twisted turns, to the edge of the earth.

His suit looked cleaner than ever before, he stepped out of his car in one smooth slide. His swagger took over the whole sidewalk as he made his way to the club in complex rhythmic steps.

The Jazzman pulled his horn out of his sleeve in one fluid motion, the doorman waved him through. I didn't have the same powers of persuasion that the Jazzman had so I had to wait in line like everybody else. Still, I could feel the atmosphere changing as soon as the Jazzman entered the club.

When I cleared the door and swung the curtain over, In an explosive atmosphere, the Jazzman was on stage blasting sounds out of his horn.

The band was captivating, they flew through their entire set before I knew it, Jazzman was slinking out the back.

I gave chase, pushing through the crowd to get backstage. Dodging security I managed to make my way to the back exit. In the darkness of the alley, suspended in the moonlight, the Jazzman dragged on a cigarette. His eyes hidden by sharp sunglasses, his hat waved in the wind and his smile never faded.

A strong gust of wind blew down the alley, carrying off with it the white hat. I ran after it, jumping in the air to catch the hat just in time. When I turned around the Jazzman was gone.

I looked at the hat in my hands, inspecting it's texture and design up close. When the hat landed on my head I didn't feel any change. It was only after I inspected my suit that I had to look into a mirror.

I found a car down the alley, using it's side mirror I looked into my face. Except it wasn't mine anymore. It was the Jazzman.

Like inside a dream I danced down the alley as it sloped downward into a dark corridor of buildings.

There was someone on my tail. I felt his eyes watching my back and mimicking my moves as we made our way down the alley.


Reading Time2 min