PHOTO PROMPT © Björn Rudberg
Alison slid the record from its sleeve and rubbed it carefully on her sleeve. Balancing it between thumb and middle finger, she delicately placed it on the turntable.
She moved the arm across; there was a crunch as the stylus hit the opening groove.
The room filled for several revolutions with regular clicks and crackles until the opening bars of Elgar’s cello concerto stole in.
Her hand shot out, wrenching the arm back. There was an excruciating screech as the stylus skidded across the vinyl.
Through her tears, she smiled apologetically at the photograph on the mantelshelf.
“Sorry. Maybe one day.”
Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.
Michael Wynn 
I enjoyed the sensuous detail of the vinyl. It took me back
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Thanks, I wasn’t thinking how old fashioned they are because I still play mine 🙂
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I believe they’re fashionable again
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The excruciating screech across the vinyl when she wrenched the arm back set my teeth on edge. The emotion at the end is beautiful. 🙂
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Thanks, I like to try to make the physical relate to the emotional if I can
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That took me back! Good one.
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Thanks Sandra
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Ah vinyl – making something of a comeback apparently – seems odd seeing the records in the shops again. You couldn’t write the same story with an mp3 player! Lovely details in a powerful story.
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I hadn’t thought about it like that as I still play my records, but you’re right, you couldn’t
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Enjoyed this one. One small crit, the use of “sleeve” twice in the first sentence jarred. Repetition can be powerful, but here it just grates. Cheers!
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You’re dead right. That’s what comes with changing a phrase and neglecting to look at what effect it has on the surrounding sentences. Thanks for pointing it out, I’ll edit it properly now.
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I’m guessing that was “their song”? I can hear the screech as the needle slips across the vinyl.
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Yes, happens to be a favourite of mine too though
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Dear Michael,
So much story in a few words. Great descriptions. Bravo!
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Thanks Rochelle.
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Funny how a song can just transport us somewhere else entirely. Very beautifully done.
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Thank-you. Music always brings up memories for me and sometimes people
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I would call them sounds of anguish, revealed so aptly by the clicks and screechings…
Well done!
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Yes, she’s still mourning the loss and can’t listen to the music without being reminded of him
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Loved all the details of playing the real vinyl albums, and the hint at the end about why this is all so significant for her. On a side note, I still have most of my old albums from the 1970s and 1980s and still play them sometimes. I have no idea why they’re making a comeback; it’s a clearly inferior way to store music. So many scratches and skips, it’s heartbreaking!
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I love my albums and still play them. The reaction to them being an old thing has taken me by surprise a bit because of that, but everyone’s right, whilst the’re making a comeback they re from another age
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It’s true, they really are an old thing now. Well, guess there’s nothing to do but shake my (imaginary) cane in the general direction of our detractors and grumble, “Kids these days!”
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Unfortunately, I’ll have to go with the other comments about the record player. I have no memories of using a record player, aside from it having a diamond stylus and it was too precious for me to touch as a kid. My parents’ record player was sacred and up alongside the crystal glasses.
xx Rowena
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I still love playing my old records, shows my age, I suppose. 🙂
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Still love my vinyl and this really captures the loss and beauty of the artists. Nice job, Michael.
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Thanks Dawn
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A very touching story. The details in setting the record and needle were exquisite. What will the younger people write about – hitting the play button – their loss.
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Thank you. Glad you liked it. I suppose the young people will just have to find their equivalents but, I’m with you on that, I haven’t clue what they will be
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You caught the placement of the needle on the record just right – the sounds, the way one has to hold the record so it won’t get scratched. Immediately I knew you still played records (or vinyls as they’re now called.) A great story that leads to another . . .
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Thanks. It’s quite fun trying to describe everyday actions in a different way to try to give them pertinence.
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Wonderful job of getting us to cringe at that familiar screech.
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Thanks Dawn
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Sometimes the smallest things can hit us like a speeding train. You captured that emotion so well.
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Thank you. Silly as it may seem when I was a child I couldn’t sing the hymn, “There is a green hill far away”, without crying because when we returned from church one day, having sung that, my budgie had died.
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Wonderfully described
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Thank-you very much
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Ahh … those scratchy sounds, I remember them well.
A visual in each of your words sprinkled with the beauty of emotion.
I enjoyed your story very much. Thanks for the memories.
Isadora 😎
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Thank you Isadora
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I almost flinched when i read about the screech of the needle on the vinyl. She won’t have a playable record left in her mental state. Good writing, Mick. 🙂 — Suzanne
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Thanks. Yes she takes all care but the unbearable hurt of the memory means she just has to stop it as quicklyas possible
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I think analog recording, like vinyl, is deeper, fuller, (not that I would hear the difference) where the digital signal is flattening the signal a bit. I’d take the digital anyway, it’s surprising how favourite songs from my old records really sound without the scratches, screeches and jumps, LOL. The emotion and description in this story is fabulous. Beautiful, sad nostalgia.
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Sad, melancholic tale, Michael. Feels very real – that wnating to listen and being unable to. The only thing that pulled me up was the two ‘sleeves’ in the opening sentence. A great tale though
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Thanks. Yeah the sleeves have been commented on, I meant to change it. It comes as a result of editing one line without then referring back to those round it. Sloppy work really.
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