Creative Writing (from 2008) – Part Two

When the World Awakens

When the world wakes at 6:30, the sun slips over the city buildings and the few people who are awake can hear the song that swims through the concrete buildings, past the graffiti and into the bedrooms and into the ears of those who are still dreaming, which they perceive as a small buzz. It’s the baseline to the morning song, and each person builds on it with the rhythmic alarm clock, the running shower, and the droning whine of the microwave.

The few who can hear the song are among an elite group of individuals who can see and hear a multitude of things which most of us cannot. They hear a symphony in the morning hours which builds until it mellows into an afternoon waltz, which develops into a drive-time frenzy of horns and trumpets and saxophones which slows into piano rags and then sonatas around 2:00 or 3:00 a.m. And although even the trained ear could swear that the music stops at 4:00 for several quiet hours, a quiet hum, a single voice can be heard until daybreak as a steady reminder that life has a pattern, a rhythm, and most importantly, a plan.

When Julie awoke at seven, she silenced the big band with one withering look at the Conductor. "Really," she thought. "It’s Wednesday; could you ease me into the workday?"