The Wandering Bard - Chapter 1

The sun set slowly on the horizon, and as The Bard gazed into the blood red sky, a deep sense of emptiness echoed throughout him. And yet, sitting at this humble café at the corner of First and Ninth Street, he remained surrounded by people. Well, people was too generous of a term, souls would be more accurate. He tried to remember what had brought him here, but blanks kept popping up in his head. After watching the waitresses and staff walk by for a while, The Bard decided that there was no particular reason he had chosen to be at the café this evening. His gaze returned to the slowly falling sun, and a wave of nostalgia struck him this time. There was no such thing as a repeated sunset, however, so it wasn’t the sight that took him back. The empty mug of hot tea in front of him had sat, untouched, for an hour now, so it wasn’t the taste. A simple sniff of the café yielded nothing, leaving touch and noise. Many could claim the situation to be that of déjà vu, but they would be claiming incorrectly, for such a thing did not exist here. After determining that touch was out of the question, The Bard decided to go silent, and calm his mind completely. A zen technique he had learned from some monks long ago served its purpose, and the culprit was finally found. A happy couple were sitting at the counter, making idle chat over hand-holding and passionate gazes. Yes, there was most certainly nostalgia there.

         “Pardon me sir, but will you be leaving soon?” A voice asked. It belonged to a handsome, grey haired man, who had a solid fifty years look to him. Perhaps a business man of some sort? Or a fellow man of the word? Regardless, the desire to know more prompted The Bard’s next words.

         “I wasn’t planning to, but I’d enjoy the company.” He offered. “Unless that would deter any plans you had.” He added as an afterthought.

         “No, not at all. I was thinking of being alone though.”

         “Then, sir, let us be alone, together.” The Bard declared. He waved the waiter over for another mug of tea as his new companion sat down. The older man’s attire was formal, yet not quite business etiquette. It more resembled that which a college professor would wear. A long sleeved, blue plaid shirt complete with a tan vest, accompanied by a matching tan dress pants. The Bard was reminded of a riverbank, but kept the smile to himself. A man of sorrows? Or a deep thinker? What was his story?

         “Might I have your name?” The man asked, after ordering himself a black coffee.

         “I go by many names, but the most common one I use here is Lucifer.”

         The man was silent a few moments, looking over The Bard’s appearance.

         “You sure don’t look like any devil I know of.”

People were always so quick to reference the Bible or religious aspects of the name, but that was only fair. Despite the number of atheists popping up these days, some names still held their old meanings.

“I actually took the name for the literal translation, Morning Star.” The Bard answered.

“My mistake, and apologies.” The man offered. “My own name is Maximillian, but just call me Max.”

Max extended a hand, which The Bard shook. They chatted for a few hours, and in that time The Bard learned quite a bit about Max. He used to be a librarian in a small town, protecting books from the PTA whenever the annual “book burnings”, as he called them, came around. He had married and had two kids, both of which had moved away overseas. Since the man was young he dreamed of adventures and traveling the world, a trait that The Bard also knew well. Max considered his life to have been fulfilling, if sometimes a simple one. After dying of old age, he decided to wait for his wife before entering the afterlife, who also lived a very happy life.

“And you two still live together here?” The Bard asked. “She must really have been someone special.”

“Still is, son. She spends most of her time keeping an eye on the kids, making sure they’re doing well and sending prayers their way.” Max’s eyes were sincere, and they both took a deep drink from their mugs. Other patrons of the café had begun to move out already, and the sun was at last absent. Outside on the streets people walked, talked, and made their way to wherever their hearts desired. Despite the area having taken on the semblance of a city, the absence of air and light pollution meant that the stars could be seen clearly, even from the streets. Maybe not “realistic”, as many scientists would complain, but the effect was nonetheless beautiful. One could not tell, especially in the earliest hours of the day, where the buildings ended, and the stars began.

“Hard to think I’d meet you in a city setting.” The Bard speculated, “Sounds like we should have met in a more rural area.”

“This was just a day long adventure that I didn’t get to have while living.” Max told him. “Seems like fate brought us together.”

“Best be careful with words like that. Next thing you know we’d be spending our next lives together as brothers.” The Bard warned, finishing off his tea. They both laughed, and Max finally departed, leaving The Bard alone once more. It was a simple interaction, but those were often the best kinds. As he reflected on their discussion, The Bard suddenly realized that he no longer felt lonely. With a simple smile, he ordered another mug of tea, and gazed out the window of the café, taking in the lights.