[J] Sarin's Diary +Illusionist: Ieeko Takeru+

[Ieeko]

Quote:

Nothing is really work unless you would rather be doing something else.

- James M. Barrie.

The kitchen was bustling with activity. The loud clatter of pots and pans rang through the mid-afternoon air like its own choir. A rattle was given by the clanking silverware - a boom by the drums of dishes flopping into the sinks - all melded with chatter and rushing water. It was superb and natural, yes, at the same time, capable of rising anyone into irritation.

Such was the case for one particular employee. He sat within the back of the kitchen, face twisted in vexation and eyes narrowed as he concentrated on a notebook - one all too familiar. It sat beneath the lamp in the dark. It carried napkins with scribbled ideas.

It was his life written. The Narrative of Jamie O'Conner.

Quote:

Note it.

There hasn't been that much to do outside of dishes and a couple of meals. For the most part, we're not short handed at Puccini's anymore. The boss hired a couple more people - some cooks and waiters to help out. I can't say I'm please. It means that there isn't anything for me to do - or that I need to do. I wait on tables for a few hours, then head to the kitchen, do some dishes to get off my feet. I don't think most people like the fact I choose to be the jack-of-all-trades of the place, but, who cares? I wasn't born to be a waiter - and I think things get done faster when I'm doing multiple tasks. I can wait on a table and do some dishes at the same time. If it gets stuff done, it gets stuff done - and it isn't like we have a professional Dish Washer roaming about.

It's really slow today, though. In a way, it's eerie. Business is hardly ever slow at this joint. There's always someone craving the food! That isn't the case, though, so, as I said, there isn't much to do - and if I can manage it, I might go home early. Besides, I could use a rest again. My mind's been in a jamboree. Things keep changing, or happening - all around. Something happened to that light-ball, Sarin, that follows me around. That girl had mentioned a child, and I haven't forgotten that, but I never suspected such strange results from it all. It's a weird sort of birth, but, within the light, I can see a child now. The image is pretty vague, but there is something there. Someone there.

Even now - following me. He's becoming more lively, more active, and he's been hanging around other people. Whether or not they see him now, I don't know. I still think there's a chance I might be crazy. Maybe the girl wasn't real. Maybe Sarin isn't real. Maybe there's some abstract trouble melded with my health? There is no real telling.

Or maybe there is! All knows I have the time to find out! Maybe I could find that girl again. Maybe some more things could be explained. Mayb --- [word is smudged] ---

I'd write more, but it seems like the first wave of business really kicked in. Time to get on my feet.

- Jamie.

 

[Ieeko]

Quote:

Do you believe in rock ’n roll?
Can music save your mortal soul?
And can you teach me how to dance real slow?

- Don McLean; "American Pie"

Quote:

As per usual, the streets had been filled with night life. Their endless walkways and streetlights - their twists, turns, corners, were sparse, yet populated. It was a far cry from the placid vacationing areas of which Jamie often indulged in. Even so, he took pleasure in the crisp air. Night was as fascinating as the day, if not more. It had its own culture. It had its own energy source; it was vibrant and pleasure-filled. Jamie could not deny his infatuation. The night was his occasional escape when vanishing for a time was improbable.

Fortunately, and unexpectedly, he had been granted the rite by a stroke of chance. In a paradoxal sense, his misfortune had proven to be his fortune. Working had lasted for hours, and into far beyond his shift as he had been asked to aid in cleaning before the restaurant closed for the night. It had taken grueling hours! However, when he had finished, he had left Puccini's only to be greeted by the swirling lights of the city night. Buildings rose like towers; billboards were lit up, and everything had its tune. In a way, Jamie felt it resembled a quirky marching band. His feet would shuffle along the sidewalk - his eyes would watch them - and his ears would listen to the scraping noise. At a distance, he could hear clatter - yelling coming from within one of the many row houses - accompanied by whispers on the wind - a scratching record - a clicking tape - the sound of brushes swirling in paint, and of children snuggling in bed after giving a regretful goodnight statement. It was a world. He was loving in it - and just as expected, he found himself not wanting to return home any longer. Such was possibly the only reason he had skipped the bus stop and underground train station. He ignored their very existence and ventured far into winding paths of the urban land. His eyes were bright and happy, mirroring his face with preciseness.

For hours, Jamie had strolled. His hands had been tucked carelessly into a cheap, brown jacket - a fabric akin to leather, but not quite. Even so, the thing was comfortable, and he enjoyed it thoroughly. His hands would rest within the pockets and fiddle with loose change, and there would always be a penny or so lodged within. Such a fact was enough to make him smile, were not his delight in the fantastical nature of the night proving effective. Not a moment diminished his interest, and, to make the matter far more interesting, he had been presented with company that hardly proved hectic. Overhead, the Reverie of which he had been saddled with had followed. The vision of a child had been growing stronger, but Jamie had not seemed to dance. Silence ensued. He did not speak. He did not glance at the ball of red light containing the flower and infant. Not until the sound of bell chiming in the distance reached his ears. At that point, Jamie had lifted his head to look upwards at the ball of light. It had mirrored his face - within the imaginary realm, were it imaginary, and had cast a red light upon him, creating the colorful hue. With a veritable grin, Jamie muttered something, then spoke a little louder - oblivious to the idea someone may have been wondering why he were talking to himself.

No one seemed to wonder, and that had raised the question ... Was Sarin truly visible, or...? Jamie did not ponder the idea, though. He simply spoke. "You're brighter at night, aren't you?" He had asked, not really expecting an answer. His hands had been raised from his pockets, one falling to his side, and the other reaching to touch the light over his head. Instead, he had ended up rubbing the back of his neck. "That's fine, though. Better than a street light." A light laugh had escaped as he breathed. The walk had continued. The silence had taken reign once more - lasting only a few moments before the fresh sound of guitar and violin clashed with one another in duet. It was no song familiar to Jamie, but it had certainly captured his attention. Almost instinctively, the man had ceased moving. His head had turned in the direction of the sound, finding a crowd gathered against a wall across the street. With the same pull the other bystanders suffered, Jamie had dashed across the street to take a look. All the while, he had watched Sarin to ensure his following. When they were safely across the way, Jamie had become the child struggling to see through the dense crowd. With skittishness, he had stood on his tip toes. He had peaked through rows of bodies, and, finally, he had settled for walking around the entire thing, standing in the alleyway upon a set of crates left there. His head had twisted around the corner, part of his body as well. There he stood - greatly illuminated by the street light - and there he captured a glimpse of the musicians giving their street performance. A young violinist, and a guitarist who appeared slightly older. Regardless, they both played with the same vigor and strength, the stringed instruments fiercely dueling. Their battle only forced Jamie's smile to grow wider. He looked on; he looked at Saring; he looked once more and followed the instruments. Amazing. The sound was twice as nice as what he heard frequently on the radio - and much nicer than the musical Tabitha had taken him to several nights prior.

Unbeknown to him, Jamie was not the only individual with bright eyes and a sense of wonder. The Reverie titled Sarin, the child within, and all that was, had began to grow more lucid. The glow became bright like a star - like a sun - like something one could only dream of. The climax of the music was approaching, and with it came the red light's own climax. It seemed to break apart like an egg. The flower within had stretched outward, as if it were having a second bloom. It had grown larger, and sprinkles of light had showered the alley and street corner. The music had continued. The violin had taken its solo. On and on it went, and the red light had become utterly fluid in motion as parts of it stretched into spirals, twists - like winding vines. A pulse had seemed to develop. One moment it would shine brighter, then it would dim, and the action would repeat. Jamie was blissfully unaware of such a thing until he turned to look as the guitar took its solo. At that point, his eyes grew wide. The mental sound of an enormous explosion had flooded his imagination. Everything had gone dark - and, for a moment, he had thought he had died. However, he had simply fallen off of the crates and into the dark alley way. There the music had continued to play its storm. The street lights had continued to glow with excessive yellow-white light. However, there was no red light. There was no mist containing a flower or a child.

Jamie's eyes had grown wide - both from the pain in his rear from having fallen off of the crate, and from not finding the red light that followed him. No name was called out. Instead, he had bit down on his lip while fighting back tears - the pain handicapping his concern. Soon he became a tad frantic. The pain had worn off, and still he saw no trace of his terribly young companion. No one. No one.

Just as he was about to rise, Jamie had cast a look towards his feet. There, resting quietly, calmly, not a care in the world, was an infant. It had looked at him with curiosity and affection, a toothless smile flooding the head, which was covered by an unusual amount of hair for an infant. Jamie had stared back. Suddenly, the music had grown to seem distant. The violin had taken lead over the guitar, and the end was drawing near for the song.

However, with its expiration came the dawning of life - new life - on the gaudy streets.

 

[Ieeko]

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