Glenn’s Opus

Glenn sat on the wooden beach nearest to the water fountain in the park. It’s the perfect view to admire the children at play, he thought.

He sat happily basking in the sun when a man, wearing two pairs of glasses, sat down beside him.

Glenn smiled. “The world is one big symphony,” he said, “Don’t you think?”

The man didn’t respond, just wrung his hands while he watched the children playing on the merry-go-round.

“Take this beautiful autumn day.” Glenn raised his arms. “It’s the fourth movement in an intricate symphony of colors, textures, and patterns, that we call our seasons.”

The man cut his eyes at Glenn.

Glenn moved closer him. “Listen to the tempo of the water fountain, the one, two, three, count of its rhythmic drops. Add the harmony of two birds singing with the laughter of children, even the silent hush of the wind as it stirs the leaves. It’s all one elaborate musical composition.”

The man moved away  from him frowning, but Glenn followed.

“You hear the tune?” Glenn hummed a soft melody. “Feel its rhythm vibrating through the wood; one, two, as if a heartbeat.”

The man, shaking a nervous leg, moved further away. He looked around the almost vacated park as if looking for help.   “What’s wrong with you?” the he asked.

Glenn ignored the question while he continued his rant about some ambiguous sound.”Most can’t grasp its form, but for those like us.” He raised a brow toward his bench mate.  “Who knows that it takes time and patience to achieve one great symphony, it’s magical.”

The man turned toward Glenn so fast that the two sets of glasses jostled against his chest like jewels, while color rushed from his red face. He spoke. “You think you know me?”

Glenn shook his head. “No, not me.” He moved closer, keeping his voice low. “But your four neighbors do.”

“What?” the man gasped.

He began to stand, but Glenn grasped his arm to halt his movement.  “Bad business that, mate.”

“Let me go.”

“And deny the people that paid me to compose a pervert’s scream into today’s symphony, I think not.”

The flash of the blade sparkled in the man’s eyes as two quick jabs ended the deviant’s terror in the neighborhood. His shocked gasp added a beautiful, cantata to the composer’s opus.

The man wheezed his last wet breath as Glenn leaned him against the side of the bench.

Glenn stood with a smile and walked through the colorful fall leaves, humming a lovely tune.

As usual, only he heard the final score of his opus.

Copyright © 2014 Glynis Rankin

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