Dr Corning's soft parade - everything must be this way

Clack!

Clack!

clack!

Dr Corning right hand shuffled around in his trench coat pocket as he walked solemnly down the cobblestone street toward Crecent Road. He whipped out a lighter in a single motion with a metallic click, and brought it up to his face as he struck the flint stone. An orange glow from his cupped hand momentarily light his face. The cigarette sizzled and he let out a large puff.

He stopped for a moment to enjoy his cigarette in the shadows. A group of men sang Maybe it's because I'm a Londoner in the distance. Surely swinging their mugs full of beer in the air and swaying from side to side. It was like traveling through time back to the 19th Harrogate of Humphry Clinker.

Dr Corning closed his eyes and sighed with satisfaction.

The voices of the singing men started to fade away slowly; drowned out as if someone were turning down the volume (or a lowpass EQ filter for any audio engineers out there)

His attention shifted to the muffled beat of his own heart. A healthy 88 beats per minute he thought.

His attention was on the rhythm for a moment, when the sensual beat of a drum kit started to fade in, perfectly in sync with the beat of his own heart.

Dr corning let out an almost unnoticeable grin at the thought of this most unlikely coincidence.

The kick was crisp, and the tom toms had an almost tribal feeling to them. The sound started to grow a little louder.

A clever chord progression of a Hammond organ came in to accompany the drums, and a walking bass line followed suit to lay down the groove.

Dr Corning's head started to sway to the music as if taken over by a spirit. He was slowly slipping into a sort of musical trance. his finger started tapping the beat on his trousers.

The psychedelic effects of the Lysergic acid diethylamide had started, but he hadn't yet taken notice.

250 micrograms; for the sake of science.

He slowly opened his eyes and noticed a street light on the far corner.

The light was slowly picking up the beat of the music. It seemed to have developed a more liquid texture, resembling the graceful movements of a belly dancer.

Dr Corning felt the urge to stretch his arms out and inhale deeply as a soft wave of euphoria passed through his body, from solar plexus to finger tips.

By this time he knew what was going on.

he started to notice very faint hints of fractals that on the square pattern of the cobblestone.

Curious he thought. I hadn't noticed such intricate pattern there before.

The hue of the lights that bounced off the sidewalk and building facades seemed to have changed ever so slightly from orange to a more complex array of soft violets and blues.

A soft breeze blew over. The leaves of the trees had also taken on almost imperceptible variations in color. The movement was almost kaleidoscopic, but very hard to notice. They shimmered like a giant school of bonito fish in slow motion.

Everything must be this way, he thought.

This short story is an original creation of my mind written for the Freewriter's community writing contest, with the prompt A picture is worth a thousand words

image source:
steeg straat nacht avond stad-89197 on pixabay