Young Writers Society

He walked through the small, lonely cobbled streets of England's big seaside city that still seemed like a beautiful country town in some parts. His worn boots scraped at the stones set into the narrow road, he stood tall and proud as if the large case draped over his tired back wasn't his only possession. With every quaint little beamed cottage and house that he passed, he edged away from the busy city centre that was always bustling with tourists. The narrow street and houses that were all joined together caused shadows of the falling sun to be cast along those ancient roads, making the road he walked on dark and cold. The defiant spring in his step made the shadows that he walked through seem peaceful and sweet rather than dark and cold. The street was lined with slowly fading beautiful blossom trees and every gust of wind tossed pretty pink and white petals into the air and as they floated to the ground, they danced around any person who was lucky to witness such a simple but beautiful sight. The road began to become wider and wider, opening up to a pedestrian path along the beachside. Innocent minded girls roller bladed along the path, flirting with the boys, it was funny really, to them it seemed like the most  important thing in the world to find a boy that they probably wouldn't end up marrying anyway, they had no idea that one day they'll grow up and all of that will seem like innocent child's play. The sky opened up in an indescribable way, with the dark ocean beneath it, the sky seemed wider. The salty sea air and the sweet smell of summer was possibly the most pleasurable smell and experience ever, the sharp, crisp air that is also soft and refreshing. It was that time in the day where it wasn't as late as twilight but late enough for the frantic energy of the beach to be died down. Where children were earlier playing in the sand, couples sunbathed side by side, while families were packing away the umbrellas and late lunches, teens and college students unfolded chairs and opened coolers. As one era ended, another began. The sun was still high but the sky was tinged a slight orange, but ever so subtle that it would only be noticed if the sky of the morning and the sky of the afternoon were compared to each other. As the energy turned from 'wild weekend and the beach' to 'lazy Sunday afternoon', parents tried to convince their clearly worn out children to pack up but a child's play is never over and the children refused to drop the excitement which was slowly fading anyway.

It was too light for the lights of the pier to be lit up, but the place was already starting to buzz with a new energy. People began to pull hoodies over their bikinis and sweats over their shorts as the crisp summer breeze wandered the beach. After all, sunny weather in England was bound to cool down at some point, hopefully it wouldn't rain! He strolled along the path, the aroma of salt and vinegar strengthened as he came closer to the pier where all the chip stands were. He approached the pier and took a large step off the pavement onto the creaky wooden boards of the pier where through the cracks  the crashing waves could be seen below. The fairground at the pier was a place for escape, everybody was filled with such joy that it could be felt if you were just walking past; the energy was incredible. All cares and worries flew out of his mind, his back ached and his feet were sore but for the tired old man, life was too short to worry about such things. If he were to die, this was where he would be content. The sound of laughter filled the air and every attraction and ride he walked past played a different cheerful ringing melody. The waves crashed onto the shore but their sound was pleasant and calming, the rhythmic constant waves provided a sense of stability. The waves sounded like a million tiny beads being poured onto a table over and over again, the sound ceased to stand still as one wave after another threw themselves onto the sand and against the wood. He found that his feet came to a stand still at a discreet little corner of the pier. He stood right at the front in the left hand corner, overlooking the dark icy ocean (which was deceiving considering that the sun was still burning bright, making the ocean look warm and welcoming). There were no food stands or rides in his little corner of the pier, so no crowds were swallowing him up, it was lovely.

He swung the battered black leather case off his back, despite his best efforts, the heavy case still hit the ground with a 'clunk'. As he crouched to examine the case, his knees cracked and his withered body struggled under the pressure until he came to a comfortable crouch. He took his wrinkled, unwashed hands and ran his fingers over the two tarnished brass buckles and flipped them open. He lifted the top and let it swing back on it's hinges. Below him laid his treasure, when he looked at it, his heart skipped a beat and his eyes welled up. The vision before him was the only thing that had unconditionally brought him joy throughout all his years, the only souvenir of his life and whenever he held this beauty, he felt young, he felt healthy, he felt rich in every aspect. He gently brushed the tarnished metal with his fingers and the cold caught him unexpectedly just as it always had. He basked in his treasure's greatness and beauty for a while; it could have been for a minute, it could have been for an hour, it was hard to tell because every time he looked at it, he was lost in time, the world drowned out, it was his escape, just like the pier. He gripped his tough hands around the delicate, cold brass of his saxophone and raised it out of it's case, risen from the grave, it was alive again. His dilapidated reed was so old and well used that it had worn so thin that it was almost see through. It was dark and patchy and it was no longer flat, excessive use of the delicate wood had allowed it to become almost wavy and splits were beginning to show. He pieced this wonder together stood up slowly, the saxophone still clutched in his hand. The sun was falling and now it was burning a deep amber, causing the ocean to resemble an elaborate array of diamonds and gold that sparkled in the sun light which lit the world alive, casting golden rays upon the pier. Love-sick 'first date' couples rode the Ferris Wheel, wearing that kind of innocent, unique smile that cannot be forced, and little children ran in circles and seemed overwhelmed by all the extravagant exciting attractions. The whole pier was set in silent slow motion as he soaked this wonderful life in, drawing deep breaths and feeling every moment. He brought the saxophone to his lips and let his fingers find their familiar place on the keys, he took a deep breath and the world was filled with the stunning, buzzing, warm sound that came from that little saxophone he held. His saxophone was brown and battered and had scratches and scars all over it, but when played, the radiant sound comes from the inside, just like the frail old man who had nothing, but inside he was brilliant beyond comprehension. The fuzzy glowing sound played on, his fingers danced their familiar dance, playing the most fantastic melodies and little phrases of music.

The sky had turned a deep navy and the lights and the colours of the pier burst through the sky, making it a sight for sore eyes. The man played on, drawing quite the crowd, the music lit everybody's faces up, their smiles glowing bright. As the beach was plunged into the depth of the night, he felt content at last and placed his saxophone back in it's case. The cool wind blew through the beach and the pier, sending the occasional shiver down his spine, but he felt at peace with life and it did not bother him one bit.  He stood on the edge of the pier, looking out at the magnificent world ahead of him, he had never travelled outside of his little corner of the globe, yet, even from the little that he saw, he could still recognize the world's beauty. He could feel it fading - life that is. The man wasn't in a frantic hurry to save himself, he knew it was time and this was a better place than any to make his last memory. As he looked into the dark, away from all the lights, he felt a warmth about him, despite the chill lingering over the pitch black sea. His eyelids shielded his eyes for the last time as he drew them to a close, he felt like he was crawling inside a warm bed and wrapping the crisp sheets around his body, he was filled with the sensation of comfort. All the cheerful music and laughter was drowned out until the only sound was his heart thumping, as it slowed to almost a stop. And then... silence. Silence and warmth, but only for a second. He was flying, he was soaring, well at least that was what it felt like to him, and then like a bullet, the harsh icy water hit him and then... nothing.