#mainly inspired by The Haunted Phonograph by Thoushaltnot

[funkylilomen]

An Elegy on Record

something about love, loss, and the liminal

•┈┈┈••✦{ | }✦••┈┈┈•

He ran a hand along the balusters as he descended the stairs, dust caking his fingertips as he did so. Each step sent the click of heel to wood echoing throughout the mansion, the soft sound magnified by the large, empty space. A pair of white gloves hung limply from his back pocket, swaying as he walked. He let out a sigh as he reached the floor and glanced around at the minimal decor; he hadn't been down here in quite some time.

Thin, towering windows with intricate designs blooming throughout their panes let sunlight spill into the room, painting the vintage furniture and wooden floor in gold and illuminating the dust particles waltzing about with one another in the air. Two chairs sat beside each other against the wall, a small table with a large brass gramophone sitting between them. Off to the side was a large bookshelf filled with nothing but records. There were a few of classical music artists, such as Bach or Chopin, but most bore the name of someone the world had never come to know.

He carefully made his way over to the collection, taking each step as though the entire house might come crashing down on top of him with so much as a single breath. He ever so slightly brushed his fingers along the edges of the sleeves, sending a bit of dust that had been resting there to stir and join the rest in a dance of wind and gravity throughout the room. He stopped on one in particular that caught his eye, his hand suspended out in front of him as he hesitated.

After a moment or two of considering, he slid the sleeve from its place off of the shelf and into his grasp. With a gentle motion, he swept off what had collected on its cover from having gone untouched for so long. It felt heavy and yet so fragile in his palms, a sense of desolation tugging at his heart at the thought of what he would do to it.

But he needed to hear that voice again, even if for just one more time.

Just as gingerly as he had made his way to the bookshelf, similarly did he approach the gramophone. The record was sat down on one of the chairs as he retrieved the gloves from his pocket and slipped them over his hands. He wound up the machine until it gave resistance, then, gently, he slipped the record from its sleeve and placed it upon the turntable. The break was released, and the record started to spin round and round, but it didn't play quite yet. At last, he moved the needle and meticulously lined it up with the grooves in the shellac.

He backed up as the machine crackled before starting to play a familiar tune. He held one hand behind his back and another out toward the air, as if offering a dance to the empty space.

"We'll meet again... Don't know where, don't know when..."

The voice that started singing was not that of the original singer. Rather, its sound resembled that of a man's, and a talented one at that. The voice was entrancing, like silk. One could only pray to be blessed with such a voice.

"But I know we'll meet again some sunny day..."

He closed his eyes, going through the motions of a dance he had learned some time ago but had long forgotten its name. With the way he danced, it's clear that there was meant to be a partner with him.

"Keep smiling through... Just like you always do..."

He twirled around dust and ducked sunlight as the song continued on and the outside world started to dim. But slowly, he could hear its melody start to deteriorate as a faint laugh started to take over, his dance unfortunately following suit and his eyes beginning to wet. He knew this would happen, and he tried his best to tune it out, but he couldn't take his focus off of it. He started missing beats and tripping over himself. He had to open his eyes once again, and even then, he couldn't go back to the graceful movements he had started out with. It didn't help that his vision was slowly blurring.

The song and the beautiful voice that had sung it hadn't even been able to reach its finish before it was entirely taken over by a woman's laughter. That horrible, horrible laughter...

He fell to the floor, fighting an already lost battle against the uncontrollable sobs. The laughter continued to echo through the now pitch dark mansion.

Another record ruined.