The Sad Saxophone

I always heard the neighbour upstairs play their Saxophone at exactly 11 am, every Sunday.

Never 11.01, or 11:03.

Always 11.

The songs always started with jazz, and upbeat melodies that made you want to tap your feet and kid yourself that everything was okay.

But at exactly 11:30, the joyful cheery music would stop and there would be a pause for exactly 10 seconds.

I counted every time.

Then, low, long soulful notes would break the silence, and I swear the whole of New York City would stop just to hear the melancholic melodies from this one person in their apartment.

The world would stop for the Sad Saxophone.

At least, that’s what I called it.

My room mates told me that no one ever knew which neighbour it was who played the Saxophone, as everyone on that floor never really left their apartment, so it was hard to play the guessing game and rule out each neighbour.

For a while we thought it was the neighbour directly above us, so one day me and my roommate Tracy knocked on the door after the music had stopped playing.

We knocked.

No answer.

We waited.

And knocked again.

No answer.

We eventually got the idea that no one was coming to the door, so we left and never went back.

So the Sad Saxophone continued to play, and I started waking up earlier so I could make myself a coffee, and lie in bed and stare at the ceiling, the music from the Saxophone became the background music to my thoughts.

The melodies were very similar, and it was only after a month of hearing the Saxophone that I could really differentiate the difference between each melody.

It’s Sunday now, and it’s 11.01.


And I hear nothing.




Filed under Short Stories.

4 responses to “The Sad Saxophone

  1. Oh my, Tala, That was absolutely beautiful. When I started to read this, from the very beginning, I knew that this was going to be good. I absolutely adore your style of writing. It touched be in a way that I honestly cannot explain. Though it was short and sweet, it held so much emotion to it. You’re an amazing writer, and I hope you continue to write, no matter what gets in your way.
    Lots of love, Shanzida

    • Oh wow, Shanzida,

      I am smiling from ear to ear! The simple text you have written has honestly made me feel so warm, and happy! I am so touched and honoured by your comment – I am speechless!
      I am so so happy you enjoyed my story and thank you so much for your kind words. I will definitely continue to write and I hope you continue to enjoy my stories!

      Lots of love!

      Tala from twtellstales

  2. Love this one; Of all the tales you’ve written this definitely is the best. You are maturing very nicely as a writer.

    The story also brought to mind the final moments of Francis Ford Coppola’s ‘The Conversation’: Harry Caul in his deserted apartment playing mournful jazz. Exquisite.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s