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The Little Black Bird

The End of a Thousand Mile Flight

By Jauren RiloskiPublished 3 years ago 10 min read
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All Images commissioned from April Hall found at https://www.instagram.com/theheartofhallart/

2739 Cellar Lane, Wine County New York, August 10th, 2021

Down a flight of six steps to the right, behind a dark mahogany door roosted a rare modern phenomenon. Scented with oak and fine wine, the Little Blackbird made its nest. Tables laden with silver, red tablecloths, and small flamed candles fill its belly with serene musical notes from on-stage performances. Here, is where Jake awaits the arrival of a one-of-a-kind treasure.

Jake is adorned in a deep azure blue polo and black fitted pants that he got specifically for this occasion. Standing by the door, his eyes wandering over the various guests and unique décor. His hands folded in front of him to hide a pair of fidgeting thumbs from curious eyes. Swaying left, then right to the musical splendor, closing his eyes in peace. Only thrice does he allow this peace to be interrupted by the ticking clock. 7:58 P.M. She should be here soon.

Fresh food supported by a silver platter rush past him. The aromas of a freshly baked Shepherd’s pie complemented by the colorful pallet of an Elon Mess allow him a moments distraction. Following behind the platter came two elderly women making their way towards the door to close out their own treasure of an evening. Despite being in their 70s, the lighting and atmosphere made them both look as if their prime had never passed. Jake smiles at them and offers a nod in greeting, prompting them to stop and turn their gaze towards him. One was taller than the other by almost a foot maybe two with the right angle, and it was the smaller of the two that spoke. Her voice matching the soothing music.

Don’t worry young man, you will find that the plunder of the night will far exceed your expectations.” A warm smile adorned her as they turned to depart. Leaving Jake with little opportunity to respond, not that he could in his current state.

An impression? Do they know something I don’t? Plunder? What? Jake thought to himself. His Brows furrowing slightly in confusion. Yet another momentary distraction from the impending event that he has worked so long to achieve.

The ticking of the old grandfather clock once again draws his attention. 7:59. A lone droplet of sweat ventures down the back of his neck. The aged red brick walls of the Little Blackbird have grown accustomed to seeing such things from young men and women alike. Its decision to not draw attention to it was intentional. It knew the pressure that such moments bring and that Jake was no immune to such forces.

Eight times the clock tolls. Each bell coinciding with the beat of the music in a rehearsed fashion that signaled a change in song. Guests swaying with it unconsciously cause Jake to follow. In his mindless swaying, his left ear gets close to the mahogany door. His musically induced peace broken by a new sound. Heels on concrete, spaced out in an even, confident stride.

8:00 P.M. It is time.

A twist of the handle accompanied by a gentle push opened old mahogany. Behind it, a hand whose nails adorned the blackness of night. Matching the form-fitting black dress hugging a healthy woman’s figure. Dangling from her neck was a lone wolf protecting a blue gem with metallic claws and clinging to a chain partially hidden by her raven hair. The first thing Jake noticed was the scent of cherries, followed by the enchanting hue of hazel parted by a proportionate nose. That bead of sweat quickening its pace down his back.

“Jake?” Hearing his name fall from her lips without a camera in between them sent his heart soaring through the moon. That alone made the struggles worth it.

“That would be me.” Both of their hands extended in sync, allowing Jake to curl his fingers with hers, raise both hands up, and place a gentle kiss on the back of her own. “It would seem that I was right again.” He smiled at her, winking at her raised brow that rose in curiosity to his words. “It’s nice to meet you in person, Allison.”

A waitress strode up to them as Allison’s hand retracted to perch on her left hip. “Your table is ready, Mr. and Mrs. Storyteller.” Now both Allison’s brows shoot up in curiosity. A smile growing on her lips from her anticipation of the evening. Jake once again extended his hand, finding Allison’s nested securely in it without hesitation from either of them. Both followed the waitress to their booth secured beneath the dimly light gaze of the Little Blackbird.

“Everything is taken care of, Storyteller Allison.” Jake smiled, answering her question of why the waitress did not grab a menu on the way to the booth before she could even answer it. His gaze shifted to hers, and he noticed her own was looking back, staring into his eyes. A familiar gaze of curiosity that they both share. The gaze of a storyteller.

“What can I say, Storyteller Jake. The dice compelled me to travel here to meet you.” A soft giggle left her lips. Typically, it is the male who travels a great distance for the love of his life. Today, the roles are reversed. Allison ventured over a thousand miles for this moment. The smile on her face told Jake that she has not regretted it in the slightest thus far.

“You know I would have made the trip.” Jake retorts, prompting an immediate "Sush you" from Allison. The only appropriate response Jake could give was an overly dramatic eye-roll. A second giggle drips from Allison’s lips.

The waitress sits them both down, along with two empty wine glasses. “Your food will be ready soon Storytellers.” She did not stick around long enough to see Allison’s response.

“Ready already?” Allison questioned. Shaking her head in amusement. “You know, a storyteller isn’t supposed to prepare this much. Improv is our secret weapon after all.”

“You assume I did any of this before arriving here ten minutes before you.” Jake teased, playfully poking his tongue out at her. Using his left hand, he reaches for his wine glass and lifts it up, clinking it to Allison’s as she followed his lead. Right on cue, the waitress returned and filled their glasses with the exclusive house Merlot wine. A bottle labeled with nothing more than a small blackbird.

The glasses fill from left to right, starting with hers and spilling over into his. A little trick this establishment is known for. Not a single drop of Merlot was spilled to the table below. Once both were filled equally, the waitress scampered off, and the storytellers share a sip from their own glasses. It takes but a minute longer before their food arrives. For Allison, Toad in the Hole. Sausages baked in an eggy batter with a side of savory onion gravy complemented with a healthy portion of assorted vegetables cooked to perfection. Next, two dinner rolls buttered to perfection found their way between the storytellers. For Jake, a similar dish to Allison’s, though he opted for a less oniony flavored brown gravy.

The table was set, and the music changed with it. A more calming, dreamy sound left the stage to guide the two onto part two of the evening. A feast fit for two that is not too much or too little.

“How did you…?” Allison stammered, unable to finish her statement as her pupils grew at the sight of the food. A few moments of silence follows her question. Her eyes flicking between the food and the man sitting across from her.

“Don’t you remember? You sent me your book.” A piece of sausage finds its way into his mouth. A sly wink followed. Allison for a moment seemed to be speechless, and she attempted to hide the fact by taking a hearty bite of her own food.

“But, it isn’t even published yet. And it’s long and hard to read and…” She gets cut off by a fork full of food raised to her lips. Jake smiled at her and, a few moments later, she accepted the bite. Eyes closing in absolute bliss from the food, the moment, and evening.

“I gave you my word that I would read it, did I not? I could tell out of all 150 food items you wrote about; this one had a special place in your heart. I am a storyteller, after all.” Jake chuckled softly and took another sip of his glass of Merlot.

Allison’s eyes slowly opened from her blissful moment to stare into Jake’s own Hazel hues. She couldn’t hide it anymore that she was speechless. The cherry blush plastered from her cheeks to her neck made that quite evident to the observant eyes that Jake possesses.

Jake didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he chose to observe her. Every bite, every fidget. A soft smile grew on his lips before Allison was able to respond with a mix of nervous confidence. “You know I was joking about you needing to broaden your culinary horizons that day, right?”

“What can I say, your words inspired me.” Jake offered a confident grin, his now empty bowl showed he enjoyed the food just as much as she did. As he spoke those words, Allison raised her glass up for a long sip, attempting to hide the blush that crept ever lower.

“You know, Jake, I should make a confession. I sort of lied to you a while back about something.” She looked down, still flushed. Her hands fidget even more now.

I know.” Jake stood up and offered her hand to her.

“How?” Jake couldn’t help but smile at her question.

“You have a very subtle tick about you, elegant Allison. Whenever the dice roll poorly, your left eye looks in the opposite direction of the right. Trying to unconsciously avoid the fate that comes when luck is not on your side.” He pauses as Allison rose, placing her hand in his.

“Yet here you are. You used your divine power of a storyteller to shape your own path-” Jake was cut off in his explanation by a gentle kiss on his lips. His eyes droop, closing entirely to blacken out the images of the onlookers around them.

Allison pulled back, and the two fell silent for a moment to marvel at each other. It was Jake’s turn to blush from such a gentle kiss. All his dreaming about that moment did not prepare him in the slightest for the true perfection that it was. The waitress slides into their view to interrupt their trance. Both turn and offer her a cheeky grin.

“I trust you both enjoyed your evenings?” The waitress inquired.

“Not quite.” Jake grins wickedly. Allison blushed and shook her head. She knew what was coming. She settled her eyes on the waitress, who was quite confused by the response.

“The evening is still young, so even though we are in the process of enjoying it, saying we enjoyed it in a past tense would imply that the evening is over, now?” Jake chuckles. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to weave the beginning of a tale.

Rather out of character for a professional, the waitress facepalmed at Jake as he turned his attention to Allison. "Well, shall we be off?"

“Yes, let us be off. Oh! I saw something really cool on the way here. Want to see it?” Allison’s gaze was hopeful.

“Absolutely.” Jake led her out through the Mahogany door and up the stairs. They both look up to spot a little raven watching them from atop a light post. Its feathers glistening from the lamplight. Hand in hand, the two storytellers found themselves at the beginning of a new journey riddled with adventures that require two writers to tell.

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About the Creator

Jauren Riloski

Hello Vocal! My name is Jauren, a recent graduate from college who is plagued by the burden of student debt. I have a passion for telling stories, and taking people on adventures that they will remember. Let's all tell stories together!

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