A Strange Request

A strange Request at a Piano Bar

A tiny gasp escapes her lips as the sunlight pierces through the clouds.In a matter of seconds the aged structure is bathed in a bright yellow light, magnifying the deep crevices that mar the faded surface of her grandfather's dream. The, once majestic, Sassafras Lounge.

The sign still hangs, but barely. Beaten by smoke and oxidation. it's remains are a dismal reminder of time's heavy hand and and broken dreams. Now, somber and grey, it looms like a shadow darkening the hollowed windows that mirror the sadness in her soul. 

Juvenile memories flood her mind. Grandpa's twinkling eyes and hearty laughter, his fingers magically flying across the keys of the old mahogany piano. Grandma's enchanting tales of exotic places. Her hands expertly weaving apple red remnants into flowing skirts, and teaching her twirl them to rich ethnic melodies.

She was little then. A child too young to conceive the long term effects prejudice and controversy. But the biting words of the townspeople are still etched in her brain. A carnival, they'd called it. A den of thieves. A den of dirty thieves....
   
"This place, my Mädchen, the music, it was supposed to bring happiness to the people." grandpa whispered, as he watched his world go up in flames. "It was supposed to bring happiness to you..."

The groan of advancing bulldozers jerks her back to reality. The collective buzz of mumbling voices grow as townspeople assemble to witness the curiosity.


Donning a mask of stoicism she grips the walnut butt for balance and continues her daunting trek up the rocky drive. Slow and awkward, she calculates her final steps. Refusing to allow a sprained ankle or broken heart to get in her way, she makes it to the top.

"Get outta the way, lady!" cries a man in a white hard hat. "You crazy or what?" 

She doesn't answer, and doesn't move. But leaning the smooth butt of shotgun beneath her palm, she waits with anticipation. 

The final outcome, she's decides, will be up to them.