Johnny the Trumpet Player by Kofi Akan Brown

Johnny the Trumpet Player by Kofi Akan Brown

The trumpet blared through the walls nonstop. Will tossed and turned, grinding his teeth together. This was the seventh time in the past two days since Will complained about Johnny and his trumpet playing. Day in and day out he played and played and played and played. But the landlord never did anything about it. Nor did Johnny ever listen to Will’s complaints. He might as well go address Johnny in person once and for all.

Will stood up, grabbed his keys, and rushed out his room. In the long white hallway, his feet dragged across the red carpet beneath the yellow tinged lights. He groaned from the lack of sleep, the veins in his fist and on his temple swelling with anger. His teeth were clenched together, nostrils flaring like a bull ready gore anyone that stood in his way. His neighbors peeked from their rooms, whispering to each other, knowing that another confrontation was about to begin yet again. Some ate snacks in anticipation while others bit their nails and held their children close to their legs and chest.

Will knocked on the door with the palm of his wrinkled brown hand, each hit stinging him like prickling needles. The thundering of his fist drowned out the cacophony of the trumpet. “Johnny! Johnny! Open up! Open up! I need to talk to you!” Red, gold, purple, blue, and neon pink lights flashed beneath the door’s threshold. Men and women laughed inside, their feet tapping Johnny’s hypnotizing tune. “Open up, Johnny! I know you’re having another party in there! I know it!”

The door creaked open, and the chill of the room brushed against Will’s skin like stinging bees. Johnny stepped out, his brown skin slightly ashy and his hair tied in dreadlocks, each one decorated with precious golden beads. Behind him in the dark living room was a chair, a music stand, cobwebs, string lights and a radio playing laughter and tapping feet.

“Alright, Johnny, where are they?”

Johnny kept silent; his dark brown eyes focused on Will.

“I know you’re having a party in here or something. We all know it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Johnny replied in a smooth, gentle voice. “No idea at all, Mr. B.”

“You don’t know-” Will took a deep breath with closed eyes, attempting to rein in his burning anger. “Now, Johnny, we’ve asked for you to keep the music down. But you refuse to listen. How long will you keep this up? How long? We need our sleep. We’ve been telling you this for days. No. Weeks!” Will calmed himself, taking deep breathes through his nose then exhaling through his mouth. “Please. Please just keep everything down tonight.”

Johnny nodded.

“Do you promise? I don’t want to have to make another noise complaint against you. None of us do.”

Johnny nodded and smiled wide, brown eyes glimmering with delight. “I promise, Mr. B. I promise you’ll all get your sleep real soon. “Good. Thank you. That’s all we ask.” Will turned to leave, part of him doubtful of Johnny’s promise. “Have a good night, Johnny.”

“Good night, Mr. B.”

Johnny closed the door and Will walked down the hall, dragging his tired feet across the floor. A few people came out to meet him while others stayed by their doors.

“Do you really think he’ll stop this time, Will?” Susan asked. “I’ve asked him before, and he does the same thing to me: nod and agree. Then he goes right back to it.”

“You’re right, Susan,” Matthew said. “We should file a police report next time or have them come down here. You should do it, Will. You know him best. You’re usually the one to talk to him about the noise he makes, and he likes you best. Best if you handle it so it’ll go easy.”

Will sighed and rubbed his forehead, attempting to relieve his piercing headache. “Ugh…you’re both right. If he doesn’t stop tonight, I’ll call the police. Maybe then he’ll listen. But I seriously doubt it. I don’t want to get him kicked out, but I will if need be.”

Will bid everyone goodnight then returned to his bed to sleep. After what felt like a few minutes of shut eye the trumpet played again. Glasses shook, plates rattled, and the walls and ceiling trembled. Will covered his ears, shut his heavy eyes, and groaned. He screamed into his pillow, his rage burning within him. But there was nothing he could do except try to get some sleep.

& & &

The next night was the same. Johnny had played his trumpet all throughout the day and all throughout the night. Will never thought retirement would go this way. He had heard rumors of it being bad. But he doubted anyone experienced any nonsense like this. In frustration, Will went to Jonny’s door and knocked several times. The door creaked open, revealing no one inside. Out of curiosity and concern for Johnny, Will entered and looked around. On the table in the living room was an old radio playing soft and quiet music.

“Can’t believe he left this thing on,” Will said as he flipped the switch to turn it off. “Maybe that’s what’s been causing all the ruckus when he invites people over.”

Will turned to leave but spotted a man’s shadow in the kitchen. But when he went to investigate there was nothing there. He he must be seeing things again in his tired and old age. Feeling a little more nosy he searched the kitchen, curious to see what types of culinary Johnny kept in his home. But there wasn’t any. The only thing that Will found was a small box with a collection of little shriveled bodies. He picked one up to examine its craftsmanship and felt the coarseness of the skin beneath his fingers. One of the arms broke off and began to bleed onto the floor, the body’s face twisting in anger.

Will dropped the wretched thing and ran back to his apartment then locked the door behind him. He sat down on the couch, attempting to rationalize what he saw. It must’ve been a doll. Or an animatronic. But then what about the blood? Some type of oil. That must be it. Johnny must be some kind of doll collector. One who likes the macabre. Yes. That is what makes sense. Will had an aunt who did the same thing. But her dolls never felt so….life like.

Will got up and grabbed himself a bottle of wine and drank until he watched television. That was the only other way he could see alleviating himself from whatever wicked thing he had witnessed.

& & &

 Music blared throughout the night and Will grabbed his cellphone to make a call.

“Hello? This is 911. What’s your emergency?” the operator asked.

“Hello? Can you hear me? I’d like to make a noise complaint!” Will shouted at the top of his lungs, his free ear plugged by his finger.

“What’s that, sir? I can’t hear you?”

“I said I would like to make a noise complaint!”

“A noise complaint?”

“Yes!”

“Go ahead.”

“I would like to make a noise complaint about a resident! A resident I’m living with in my apartment complex refuses to turn down his music and throwing parties late at night! It’s been a few days now and we’ve tried asking him to stop!”

“What’s your address? We’ll send two officers down.”

“1975 Wellrose Lane in Hartland, Louisiana. Zip code is 15672!”

“I’ll send two officers over right away. Should be there in a few minutes. Can you please wait outside so they’ll see you?”

“I will! Thank you!”

Will hung up and went back outside to the others who stood there with covered ears, some using their hands and others with noise canceling headphones. Two newborns were crying, and a few children rubbed their darkened eyes. Will sighed, shook his head, and went downstairs

using the elevator. He took a sigh of relief, glad to be rid of the music at least temporarily and hopefully forever after tonight.

He took the elevator down to the first floor and waited, his breath visible in the freezing night. The sound of ambulance sirens, wailing police cars, and revving motorcycles filled his ear; sounds far more peaceful than that trumpet. What he would give to listen to every night in a busy New York City instead of Johnny.

After a few minutes a police car pulled up and two women stepped out. On the left side of their chest were body cameras and strapped to their hips were pistols and batons.

“I’m Officer Hooks and this is Officer Xing. We received a noise complaint,” the one on the right said. “Did you make the call?”

“I did.” Will pointed to Johnny’s window flashing with multiple lights while shadows of men and women danced back and forth in suits and dresses. “He’s been playing his trumpet late into the night every night. We’ve made several complaints before, but nothing’s been done.”

“Alright, we’ll have a talk with him.”

The three went upstairs and walked down the hall while the neighbors watched. They reached the door as the lights beneath the threshold flashed their colors till one by one, they disappeared and only red remained. Officer Xing knocked on the door several times, the doorknob rattling with each hit. But the trumpet continued to blare and rattle door.

“Open up!” Officer Xing shouted. “This is the police! We’re here because of a noise complaint!”

There was no answer. The final light switched off, the threshold was dark, and the music stopped.

“Open up or we’ll have to use force!”

No answer.

“Alright, sir, we’re going need you to step back,” Officer Bell said to Will. She turned to the door and yelled, “We’re coming in! Stand clear!” She gently guided Will to the side and gave him a pat on the shoulder with a smile. She returned to Officer Xing and together they kicked the door off its hinges. They turned on their flashlights and held their pistols. “We’re coming in!” she repeated. They stepped inside while Will and his neighbors watched with bated breath.

 There were two loud snaps, like two twigs crushed beneath someone’s heel, followed silence. Neither officer returned.

The lights lit back up in Johnny’s room as he floated out his door, the tips of his toes barely touching the floor. In his right hand was his trumpet, playing its blaring music as if it had a mind of its own; in his left the shriveled corpses Will had found, each facing Johnny like children longing for their father. Surrounding his body was a halo of rainbow-colored light as his cheap suit sparkled. Behind him was a host of transparent humans dancing, singing, shouting, screaming, and convulsing violently.

Will’s eyes widened and he screamed, sweat pouring down his face as his muscles began to twitch to Johnny’s song. Children wailed and screamed with their parents, dogs barked, cats hissed, sirens wailed, alarms blared, birds screeched, and even the people outside screamed. It wasn’t long before everyone began dancing and convulse to the tune, even the newborns on their chubby little legs.

Will rushed down the hall and pressed the elevator button to go down but it caved in on itself. He blitzed to his room and struggled to turn the doorknob as his feet began to move on their own and his arms swung to Johnny’s rhythm.

Johnny floated down the hall while his neighbors continued their possessed dancing and as their bodies shriveled into flaking husk of their former selves and hit the floor. Johnny reached Will, planted his feet on the ground then spoke in a soft tone. “You are the only one who continuously visited me during my little stay here, William,” Johnny said with joy. “Even after I said there was no party you kept coming to see if there was. Even to the point of breaking into my home and turning off my spirit radio. That’s dedication!”

“N-now Johnny, I think there….I think there is a misunderstanding here.”

Johnny put the shrived corpses away then placed his hand on Will’s shoulder and smiled, continuing his words of praise and ignoring Will’s. “Because of your dedication, William Brown, will be my right hand at the next party! You’ve seen but a glimpse of what I can do. I will show you it all!”

“J-Johnny, please.” Will said, body failing and shriveling. “I-I only want to spend my retirement well. Please. I didn’t mean any trouble. Please spare me.”

“It’s alright, Mr. B,” Johnny said, placing his hand on Will’s head. “You’ll be safe with me and I’ll give you a retirement to remember for all eternity! You’ll love the party and the party will love you!”

& & &

Sasha walked down the hall, rubbing her eyes as she coughed. She knocked on the door in the middle of the hall, her ears filled with the sound of a trumpet and an elderly man laughing and joking as lights flashed beneath the door’s threshold.

The door swung open, and Sasha found only darkness, two music stands, two chairs, two trumpets, but only one man; the same elderly gentleman who had opened the door for her once again.

“Mr. William, please, it’s late. I’m sick have midterms tomorrow. Can you keep it down?”

Mr. William turned around and with a hand motion signaled someone inside. “Johnny, she’s asking us to quiet down.”

 Johnny said somewhere from behind. “You know how to answer her, Mr. B. You’re hosting.”

Mr. William smiled at her. “I promise, Miss. Sasha. I promise you’ll get your sleep real soon.”

* * * * THE END * * * *
Copyright Kofi Akan Brown 2025