-CHAPTER 2-

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-CHAPTER 2-

Gold, fiery orange, brown and fading green leaves flowed down softly all around him. Brilliant colors burst throughout the entire Independence Park. It was breath taking in these early morning hours. David sat on the damp dew filled grass letting the leaves rain down around him. In the city of Charlotte, North Carolina it was hard to find a peaceful place where he wouldn't get escorted out. Nobody liked a dirty beggar loitering about, ruining the scenery. But here he was welcome; he even knew some of the early joggers and mothers who frequented the park. It was his safe haven.

He leaned against the tree breathing in fresh air and began his morning routine. The small box labeled TIPS was set before him. It was time to earn his breakfast, maybe even lunch, who knew? From within his tattered, soiled, jean jacket, he took out his only prized possession-a pan flute made of bamboo. This was his only treasure he hadn't lost. Gently he began to blow into each small delicate pipe, producing mournful flute-like notes. The notes floated into the air, the wind carrying it throughout the entire park. Leaves danced tenderly all around him, swaying to the music it seemed, and David's thoughts took flight along with them.

These melodies in the early morning were his only remaining gift to the world, but it was a gift not easily given, a gift filled with pain, morning after morning-for with this gift the memories also came. It always began with the worst, the most gruesome. He could still see Marla, his sister, laying in a pool of her own blood. Her life long gone. Cold. Rage filled him when he thought of her pain, and along with the rage his melody would pick up in intensity and pace, the rage became palpable. Ultimately his mind would take him to the day they found her killer. Ironically he had been one of his disgruntled fans, one of the stalkers. Everything exploded on that day. David was there when they took him into custody from the house next door. Yes, that day he had almost killed a man. Then began the endless imprisonment. Followed by so-called freedom-based on good behavior. Oh, but freedom was worthless. For no one would hire a man with a record, a man with anger problems, a man with a past he couldn't bury. No, the world would never forgive him of his moment of righteous anger.

Still, those passing him each morning appreciated his talent, even if they forgot his fame. His melodies stirred yearning in their hearts, and sometimes rejuvenated them enough to drop a few quarters into his box.

"Unchained Melody?" The voice startled him, and his music stopped abruptly.

"Excuse me?"

"That's Unchained Melody by Gheorghe Zamfir, right?"

David took a moment to catch his breath; none of the park goers ever recognized this song, or any of his songs for that matter. The woman was dressed in a happy yellow jogging suit, and stood with her arms crossed, carefully studying him.

"Yes, it is."

"You look familiar." She said as she pulled her luxurious brown hair into a tight pony tail.

Anger flared in him. Of course, she recognized the criminal face that had flooded the news channels and paper, even the magazines. Before he could respond she spoke, her voice filled with the excitement of a little girl.

"You're David Francoise! The famous pan flute-nai- player!"

His anger abated.

"I was."

"I'm sorry about your sister," she continued her tone dropping, "I would have done worse to that man."

He sat speechless, mouth agape looking up at her-she hadn't accused him, nor condemned him.

"I'm sorry that your music stopped."

David harrumphed, "Well, you're the only one who's sorry, miss."

For a few endless moments she just looked up at the swaying of the trees, then she spoke so softly that he could barely hear her.

"I prayed for you David."

"Much good that did!" he snapped, regretting it right away.

Once more silence surrounded them.

"I'm Alessa." She said extending her hand.

He took it and gently shook it, afraid to speak, lest he explode again.

"Listen, I work for a recording studio," she began while taking out a business card from her pocket, "please come by, I have a project in mind that would be perfect with your music."

Her blue eyes twinkled, her excitement had returned.

"You're offering me a job?" He asked incredulously.

She nodded.

Speechless he nodded, almost choking out the next word.

"When?"

"Tomorrow morning, nine."

Without waiting for a response she jogged away, fading out of sight along the winding trail.

Just like that fortune's tide changed, within the span of only a few minutes. Raziel's words echoed somewhere in his mind.

"You won't always be this way, I promise."

Indeed, the tide had changed-hope had re-emerged.

*-*-*-*-*

Raziel looked at David from afar and smiled. One man blessed. But David's test had only just begun.

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