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Prose

Out Of The Blue

Kaisley Phillips tells a colourful story from Chicago in the summer of 1960.

Louis Armstrong paced the stark wooden floor-boards of his old rehearsal room, South Side Chicago 1960, reminiscing as fragments of his amazing life echoed vibrations and visualisations around the room, bouncing from the ceiling and walls, dancing with the shadows and the specs of dust.

His navy blue pin-striped suit, starched white shirt and bow-tie were covered by his Burberry trench coat as his black snake-skin shoes continued pacing the floor. In a slow, melancholic manner, he took an indigo silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and tenderly polished his old brass trumpet.

His large brown eyes glanced up to the skylight where the sunlight had cast a hazy, smokey blue beam framed by a rainbow from a prism of light. His thoughts were on his departed friend, Billie Holiday.

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