A, B, C ...

Muttering in a distance, the crowd didn’t seem to notice the fret in his eyes, nervousness that creeped from his bleeding heart. Never had he done something of that sort, and the more he thought, the house of cards crumbled to the ground; perhaps eviscerated with an invisible flame that left no trace.

Standing on a makeshift podium, his escaping thoughts of motivation did little before the heat and cold that hit in regular interludes, bringing sweat and goosebumps without a noticeable switch. Beating with assiduity, his heart screamed with hope and glam, dedicating the skipped beats to showing poor Ake that there was indeed glory in patience. Whether it was the clanking sound of diamond dredger beside him or the countless honks from cars around, Ake’s focus remained shifty, and his vision slowly becoming hazy, making him wipe his face several times to reset his thoughts.

Barely thirty hours ago, while sitting on his favorite bench, beside his favorite pool, at his favorite park, Ake thought of what he perceived as a revolutionary idea that would change the course of his life forever. As imagined, he was right at the center, a vantage point that made him visible to anyone who opted to look.

Attention. That’s the key to the empire of castles he fabricated at the park. Cruising through the skies like beacons, his ambition, and anticipated accomplishment only relied on the reaction of the unstaring crowd. Ingrained in his skull was a reality that convinced him to try turning one head from the busier proletariats who would cause a chain reaction towards the audience he yearned for. To Ake, one pair of ears was enough. Just one that he could give his best, and speak up, stacking towards greater success.

Nonetheless, materialization depended on conjuring every drop of emotion from within. All that love. All that hate. He needed to open his heart bare, and let the unknown souls peep through his core. Easy as it may sound, the cold feel on his fingers, the sting in the nostrils; didn’t offer much of a motivation. Trapped in a loop of despond, and a loosened heart, Ake felt utter loneliness, just like most days of his life.

Taking deep, and slow breaths, a temptation to shut his eyes and focus dissipated. Each passing second seemed to insinuate the victory of his heart, but with the increasing worry about what the strangers would think of him; a laughing stalk, a clown on the streets, he couldn’t push through.

Racing against fear, and insecurity, Ake’s mind opened his eyes even wider, exposing the deep brown against his clean eyeballs. Like the past fifteen minutes, self-doubt soared, and regret bound him to a corner. Undecided to continue or bail, Ake posed in a pretentious manner that made him appear to be waiting for someone; constantly looking over his shoulder.

Silently chanting, I need to do this, Ake forced his will, and his rapid blinks, grinding molars, and swallowed gulps forced him to hold the metallic strings with more courage than before. It wasn’t something new. He’d done it several times before and, there was no way he would flop. He was sure of that. Watching the construction workers who worked several feet towards his extreme right, Ake admired their undivided attention. Even in their dirty clothes and even dirtier gloves, the men seemed not to give a dime about the moving bodies around them. One time, long ago, when Ake’s father was part of the workforce, Ake would sit on the same street he was standing, watching his father work as he wondered what the world would offer him when he came of age. Only ten then, his world revolved around his agile and strict father who tried everything he could to put a loaf on the plate. ‘Always believe in yourself,’ he would tell, and years on, Ake took that piece of advice a notch higher, long after the man made peace with the living. It was his time to use his father’s playbook. But could he? Did he have in him what his father sow years ago? A tree of courage and wit?

Ten in the morning and dwellers of the city had one thing in common; tirelessly pursue dreams. Everyone seemed anchored, knowledgeable of what they wanted. Dog to a bone, or cat to milk, souls sped off to what seemed important to them. How could he divert all those people’s minds? How would he make them listen to what he had to say? He wasn’t giving money, or job opportunities that the city starved for. Besides, he was jobless himself, and all he could offer was hope (at least as he envisioned). It was all he got. The uncertainty of his conundrum and reception made Ake stare blankly, self-destructing the city he built at the park.

Then, as if possessed, an act of complete unconsciousness, Ake released all the pressure from within in a single yelp that lasted not more than a few seconds. Forcing air through his estranged throat, his voice box croaked under the deep bass, and unexpectedly, a few heads turned to the weird noise coming from the man in a black trench coat, grey beanie hat, and dark leather half-gloves gracing his softer hands. What he held on his hands was a clear indication of what Ake was going to do. His tool of persuasion was firmly gripped closer to his chest, and despite the numbing cold in the atmosphere, Ake’s shock turned to be what he needed to accomplish his desires of the heart.

Acting quickly, he then removed the worn-out expression, interchanging it with a smile and a mild wave at the few eyes that watched his every move. Grabbing the guitar more firmly, Ake then softly plucked the strings in a gentle manner that brought a melody irresistible to the ears around. Farmers throw seeds to attract poultry. Ake had musical notes that he’d been practicing since his father passed away. Recalling his father’s words on the same spot, it was time to be what he wanted. It was time to draw in an audience, and erect an empire.

Deeply believing in his intuition, Ake brought awareness where it deserved, memorizing the song he’d written on that park. Trusting his gut feeling, he reasoned, you never know unless you try.