Jodine's Art Space: Short Stories and Micro Stories

Take No Prisoner's

Tue, 23 Oct 2007 10:22:27 GMT

TAKE NO PRISONERS

Jodine Derena Butler

(23/10/2007)

Charlie Hohepa snuck out from behind the Rhododendron with his crowbar grasped firmly in his hand. He wasn’t meant to be working on his own tonight but Muzz hadn’t turned up. He was pissed off. He would have to teach him a lesson. You can’t leave a brother in the lurch like that. It’s all about respect. Charlie pulled his black hoodie up and over his head and surveyed the surrounding neighbourhood before positioning the crowbar under the window. If Muzz didn’t get here soon he was dead meat!

Muzz would have met up with Charlie on time, if it had not been for his Aunt Mavis who had arrived later in the afternoon and insisted he tell her all about his plans for the future. He’s been out for a week and already the whanau were on his case.

‘Keep your big black nose out of trouble, you hear!’

Anyway, he had bigger fists to worry about than Aunt Mavis’ loud mouth and heaving bosom in his face.

‘Psst. Charlie.’ whispered Muzz, cupping his hand around his mouth.

Charlie nearly jumped out of his skin.

‘Jesus fucking Christ! Where have you been? Forget it, just keep an eye out before we both end up inside.’ Charlie was relieved and annoyed at once. It wasn’t that long ago that Muzz and Stoner, a pathetic white P freak with a rope head, had been done for breaking and entering. Stoner had done a runner and Muzz ended up taking the rap for both of them.

‘I tried to get here earlier man, but aaah, I had a visitor at the last minute and, well… I couldn’t exactly leave in a hurry. But hey man, I’m here and I’ve got your back.’

Muzz wanted to avoid a beating if he could possibly help it, making every effort not to offend Charlie any more than he already had. Although he was a fair man, Charlie was well known for his quick temper and lightning fists.

Charlie decided to ignore Muzz. He was now more concerned with getting the job done and getting home to a beer. Maybe he would invite Muzz around home and introduce him to the missus and kids...depending on how it went tonight. He knew Muzz was a bit of a pretty boy with the ladies, but he had the brawn (and the girth). His missus didn’t complain - much.

Charlie leaned his full weight into the crow bar and a loud crack echoed through the night. Both men disappeared behind the Rhododendron.

‘Bloody hell bro! That was louder than a stuck pig.’ said Muzz, looking up and down the street and listening for signs of disturbance. ‘Who’s house is this anyway?’

‘You don’t wanna know…

Charlie paused for a moment as if deciding whether or not to continue. He decided to test the waters.

‘Hey did you ever track down that rope head, Stoner and give him the bash?’

Muzz wondered if this was a trick question.

‘Aaah, not yet mate. I’ve only been out a week. He’ll get his one day…Why is that?’

‘This is his old lady’s house…’

The last thing Muzz needed was retribution. He wanted to keep his nose clean (and not just for Aunt Mavis). Part of his plan was to get out of the scene all together and to do that he had to work off his time and lay low. Petty crime and supporting the crew doing odd jobs for a while would give him time to please the ‘Powers That Be’ and gradually make his way out.

‘Shit!’

Charlie could hear the fear in Muzz’s voice. Muzz was about the same age as Charlie but he was soft. Charlie assumed that jail had hardened him up a bit and the Chief wanted to see how much.

‘Hey, wad-iya mean man?’ said Charlie, eyeing him up. ‘I thought you would be pleased. Rope head’s disappeared but we know where his old lady lives. We just got to ruffle his feather’s a little.’

Muzz felt his shoulders drop. He tried not to show too much yellow as he took in the seriousness of the situation.

‘Aw mate, who put you up to this man? We don’t have to do this, I can take care of it.’

‘We know you can bro, but we just want to help out a member, show respect, you know how it is’

With one more wrench of the crow bar, the old wooden window jerked open with such force, it almost slammed backwards into the house. Charlie placed the crowbar on the ground. Lifting himself up onto the window ledge, he expertly clambered inside.

Muzz had to think quickly. He could not afford to get done for any more charges. He was determined not to go back to jail even if it killed him. He had to play this cool or else he would be in deeper shit than he already was.

‘I can’t go in there, who will keep look out? Anyone could see this window’s fucked or hear something. I’ll wait here, and let you know if someone’s coming’

Charlie wasn’t expecting this. He knew the bitch was asleep in the next room too because he had watched her stagger home from the pub around 11.30pm, and seen the bedroom light go off. He expected bigger balls from Muzz. Rattled, Charlie reached forward and grabbed Muzz by the scruff and yanked him up to his face.

‘Get in the fucking house and finish the job or I’ll take you out myself! He wanted to shake some sense into him. Didn’t he know it was out of his control? ‘Where’s your respect bro, are you gonna let this mother fucker walk all over you and do a runner so he can do it to someone else or are you going to teach him a lesson and protect the crew?’

‘I want to keep my head down man!’ said Muzz, standing his ground. ‘I don’t want to go back to fucking jail, I don’t care that Stoner’s gone AWOL, I just want to take it easy for a while.’

Charlie tightened his grip, his knuckles clenched together like his jaw.

‘It won’t take long for that idiot to showup. You know as well as I do he won’t get far.’

‘This isn’t coming from me Muzz.’ said Charlie, the veins in his neck pulsating under his breath. ‘The chief wants to make sure that you follow through and sort out your business. We can’t have this sort of thing going on under our noses. You’ve gone soft boy. Harden up!’

Charlie let go of Muzz’s shirt, as a Taxi came around the corner further up the road. Muzz crouched at the foot of the Rhododendron and Charlie pulled the window shut, hovering just above the window ledge out of sight. Both men looked at each other and at the Taxi cruising past. An unknown passenger was in the back seat, too far away to be seen.

Charlie had had time to think.

‘Muzz, lets talk about it inside bro. The bitch is out cold, she won’t hear a thing. We can sort this out, I don’t want to risk being caught and end up in the watch-house either.’

Muzz agreed, but wasn’t yet convinced about climbing in the window. It was a fool’s game. How the hell had he ended up here? He knew he would have to sort this out and fast. Here we go, he thought.

‘Are you sure she’s the only one in there bro? Does she have any kids?’

Charlie didn’t know if she had kids. He didn’t like to think about his work that much. Get in, get out, end of story. Rope head should have thought about that when he decided to skip town. What the fuck was wrong with this idiot?

‘Nah, just shut the fuck up and get inside.’

Muzz did as he was told. He picked up the crowbar and hoisted himself up, his toes digging in to the inside of his sneakers as they latched onto the side of the wall. He remembered Aunt Mavis giving him a lecture that afternoon. ‘You’ll end up dead! Then I’ll have to say I told you so when I come to visit your grave!’ And she had stood with her arms flaring out from her huge hips, doubling her size. She was right. He would end up dead if he didn’t sort this out. Maybe it was time to get on a plane and cross the ditch. Other’s had done it. Where they ended up, was anyone’s guess. He decided he had nothing to lose, he was going to buy a ticket.

‘Lets get this thing over and done with, so we can go home and crack a beer with the missus.’ said Charlie, playing it down, shutting the window. He had watched Muzz pick up the crowbar and realised his mistake. He began fingering the knife concealed in his jacket pocket, rolling it under his thumb. Charlie wasn’t convinced Muzz was playing the game.

Both men waited for their eye’s to adjust. They could hear the laboured sound of unconsciousness in the next room, as if the house itself was breathing.

‘All we have to do is give her the bash, show rope head who’s boss. She won’t even feel it bro, she’s too fucked up.’ said Charlie, moving toward the door.

‘I’m not doing it bro.’ said Muzz, the crowbar held firmly in both hands. The solid steel, cold in his grasp.

Charlie swung around to face him, flicking the knife from his jacket pocket.

‘Like fuck you aren’t!’ said Charlie, ‘What do you think you’re gonna do, give me the bash instead?’ He laughed. ‘You think you can fuck me? Maybe you got a little bit too much of a good thing while you were inside, eh pretty boy.’ Charlie wasn’t going to let this fuckwit make him look like an egg. Not on his shift. Not ever.

‘You can walk away and forget about this or we can have it out right now. Either way, I’m not touching the bitch, and neither are you.’

Charlie lunged forward, his fingers curled around the knife, his eye’s wide in full warrior facial. ‘You fucking cunt!’ he said. Rage was moving through his body like an electric current, jolting him into a state of frenzy. In an instant, he had visualised cutting his jugular, slashing his face and stabbing him some more for good measure before leaving his body lying in a pool of coagulating blood for the bitch to clean up.

Muzz was way ahead of Charlie. He took a swing, and felt the added weight of the crowbar merge into his taut muscles, flexing and stretching outward. If he was going to get out of this hell hole, and he was going to show them ALL what he was made of. Jail had taught him a thing or two alright. Watch your back. If he took Charlie out, it would let them know that he meant business, that he could play hard.

Charlie ducked, hearing the swish of the bar sailing past his head. Throwing up his arm, the rod slammed into it throwing him off balance. He felt his blood vessels burst, pulsating and burning like fire around the damaged muscle before the rod hit the bone. He was lucky his arm had not shattered, but he thought he felt it crack.

His body still moving forward, the sharpened knife found its mark penetrating. He felt the point of the blade meet initial resistance before puncturing what he imagined was Muzz’s sweatshirt, before popping through several layers of skin while being sucked into Muzz’s sinewy body.

‘Aaaaargh!’ said Muzz, as he gathered up his energy again and brought the bar down, smacking into Charlie’s jaw.

Charlie screamed and fell backward onto the floor.

Muzz felt the warm wet spot on his stomach and doubled over instinctively. He heard someone else scream. A woman’s voice, high pitched.

They both heard the back door being flung open and a loud scuffing noise.

‘What the – ‘

Stoner stood in the doorway, sawn-off shotgun pointed squarely at the two men. Shoot first, ask questions later, he’d always’s been taught.

SIGHTLESS

Wed, 19 Sep 2007 02:13:19 GMT

S I G H T L E S S

She tried not to notice her fingernails as they dug into the palm of her hand or her teeth now permanently clenched tight, her jaw aching under the pressure.

Below her was the sea of debt and failure mocking her with gaping jaws on an incoming tide. Her head was buried in the sands of denial.

She could sense the sea rising up to swallow her whole. Part of her wished it would take her now and put her out of her misery. So close yet so far. Where had it all gone wrong?

She heard the despair in his voice. He knew it. His weight falling like a stone. Hers, steadily wrapping its greasy arms around her like a Python, layer upon rolling layer.

She has to watch she doesn’t start to feel that life is getting too hard.

She wondered how much longer she could continue to bare the weight of a thousand dreams knowing that darkness was closing in, all around her, stealing from her.

It had to stop. This pitiful excuse for a job. Nothing was worth the baring of her breasts for nameless, faceless lovers with bottomless pockets and no holes.

The Silver Thread - A Myth

Mon, 10 Sep 2007 05:17:53 GMT

The Silver Thread – A Myth

Jodine Derena Butler

(28/08/2007)

Long ago in the land of Love, King Sydney and Queen Kathleen had a daughter, Princess Gayle. Princess Gayle was abducted by the Dark Lord, Warren, under the enchantment of a lyrical spell. Lord Warren lured the Princess to his castle on the other side of the wood to the barren land of Hate. Derena was out walking in the woods one day, when she heard a beautiful melody that rang in her ears so sweet and dreamy, that she quickly fell under the spell of false joyous promises. The Princess never returned. Princess Gayle’s husband, Prince Malcolm, was distraught and tried to find the Princess, but alas, he quickly became lost and it was presumed he had perished. Many villagers had gone into the wood in search of the pair but none had ever returned.

Princess Gayle left behind a daughter, Princess Derena. The villagers believed that the Dark Lord would return on her sixteenth birthday, and claim her for his eldest son. As a precaution, it was declared that the woods were out of bounds to all. The King and Queen decided not to tell the Princess about the threat, agreeing that their love and her innocence would protect them all.

The land of Love was very rich. Flowing streams, lush pasture and warm weather ensured the best growing conditions almost year round. The local villagers were also wealthy of heart and spirit and all contributed to ensure the land of Love was a happy and thriving Kingdom. Time passed and Princess Derena, was nearly sixteen. As an only child and very loved, she was a happy Princess with beautiful long flowing auburn hair. She loved to wander through the meadows daily, picking wildflowers, gathering large bouquets for the palace. Occasionally she would venture into the woods, just far enough to pick the most fragrant Narcissus and Daffodils, but never further than was necessary.

Princess Derena loved to visit the market place. She was often seen at the markets on Sundays, chatting with the traders and village folk. Sometimes Queen Kathleen would give her a handful of silver penny’s to purchase materials to make crafts or to buy a piece of cloth to sew her pretty embroidered purses for the market. On one such Sunday, Princess Derena was making her way through the stalls, when she came across an old woman she hadn’t met before. The old woman was selling a multitude of different threads, all resembling a tapestry of colour. Approaching the old woman, Princess Derena caught a glimpse of something sparkling in amongst the threads, out of the corner of her eye. The old woman withdrew a thimble of delicate silver thread unlike anything the Princess had ever seen.

The Princess gazed at the silver thread and enquired on the price. The old woman began to explain that the silver thread was enchanted and was made for the daughter of Princess Gayle as a talisman to protect her from the Dark Lord Warren. Princess Derena stared open mouthed in surprise at the old woman and told her that she was the Princess.

The old woman grasped the Princess and pulled her to one side, hidden from the prying eye’s of the other villagers, and warned her about the peril of going into the wood. She began telling the Princess the tale of the abduction of Princess Gayle and the prophecy that the Dark Lord would return. The Princess gasped in astonishment at the revelation and pleaded with the old woman to give her the enchanted thread. The old woman pointed her finger and with a stern eye, and warned the Princess that the thread was so delicate that one tiny drop of water would disintegrate the thread and she would be lost to the Dark Lord forever. The Princess promised to keep the silver thread safe.

The old woman explained that the enchanted thread had to be wound around her waist three times, standing in the place that she wished to return, and the thread would bind to her middle. Whenever the Princess wished to return home, all she had to do was say ‘I ask and pray with all my heart, please return me to the start.’ The Princess thanked the old woman and gave her three silver pennies out of her purse. But all she could think about, was wandering further into the woods in search of her parents.

The very next day, Princess Derena packed a flask of apple juice, and a bag full of bread and fruit and made her way to the edge of the wood. A warm breeze wisped through her hair and the tall grass swayed. Wildflowers danced invitingly, drawing her in. Tying the silver thread around her waist three times, the Princess waited. A bright white light began to grow and grew bigger and bigger until it completely surrounded the Princess like a shroud. Spinning into a vortex, the light began to transform into a funnel at her navel and began to be absorbed deep into her belly. Princess Derena looked as the last of the vortex disappeared. All that was left was a faint line, resembling the silver thread, running about three inches from her naval.

The Princess grinned with delight and made her way into the woods. Princess Derena lost all sense of time, wandering this way and that. After a while, she heard the faint sound of music that filled her heart with sorrow and yearning. Her compassion rising, she followed the sound, weaving her way in amongst the tree’s, and after many hours, she eventually came to the end of the wood. The Princess dreamily sat down, feeling dizzy and overwhelmed with the music swimming in her ears and filling her body. She gazed out onto a foreign land. The land before her was a dark and desolate place.

The Princess feared she had succumbed to the Dark Lord’s lyrical spell. She began to panic and she struggled to recall the exact words that would release the silver thread and return her safely home. Hastily, she tried several incantations. ‘I pray and hope, I will not float’, ‘I hope and pray, I will not stay’… The sun had set and the moon was high in the sky. Stars flickered and seemed to wax and wane, as though that they were all talking to her at once, warning her about wandering too long in the woods. In the distance, she could see a faint light.

Making her way toward it, she came across a run down old cottage. A faint glow of a lantern could be seen through a single dirty window. The Princess shivered, afraid. She crept up to the window and looked inside. She could see a table set for four to one side. To the left she could see a woman seated by a fire. She was dressed in black and playing a sad melody on her harp, the source of the music that coursed through the Princess’s own body. There was a younger man, staring blankly into the fire, about the same age as the Princess. He was seated beside an older man, a tall man. The Princess jumped backwards, as if hit by lightning! The man had dark piercing eyes staring straight at her, boring into her like probing psychic antennae, reading her mind. Lord Warren got up from his chair and headed for the door.

The Princess tried to run. She tried to recall the words to the silver thread but the lyrical spell seemed to confuse her. The door of the cottage opened and the Dark Lord stood before her. His mouth curled into a crooked smile, baring his brackish, rotting teeth. His voice echoed around the barren land and bounced off her heart like a stone. Princess Derena felt her body tense in fear and knew she had to act fast or be lost in this barren land forever. Picking up a large stone, she threw it as hard as she could and the stone went crashing through the window, shattering it.

The music stopped playing, just enough for the princess to recall the spell. She quickly said the words “I hope and pray with all my heart, please return me to the start”. As before, a bright white light began to twist and twirl around her body, pouring out through her navel. The Princess could see the silver thread ascending upward into the night sky like the tail of a shooting star. Princess Gayle stood beside Lord Warren. Princess Derena reached out her arms in an attempt to rescue her, but Princess Gayle grabbed her arms instead and tried to stop her from leaving.

The Dark Lord lunged and grabbed hold of the Princess tightly around her feet, as the Princess was lifted into the night sky. The Princess kicked and screamed and the Dark Princess released her grip. Lord Warren hung on tight. Feeling the power of the silver thread increasing, she rose higher and higher into the night sky. The silver thread pulled the Princess while Lord Warren fought to take her back. The battle was so fierce, all trace of time vanished. On the horizon, a faint glow. Reaching the highest point in the ether, she began to spiralling headfirst toward the earth like a comet.

The Princess could only think of her mother. Her decision to choose a life of despair to be with Lord Warren, saddened her to her very core. The remnants of the sorrowful music still ached in her heart and the Princess realised her mother was lost forever. So much pain. So much hurt. So much she did not understand. The Princess wept... onto the precious silver thread. The silver thread began to glow. Violet, indigo, blue and green, yellow and orange and finally a bright deep glowing RED. Lord Warren screamed as the silver thread scolded his hands forcing him to let go. He reeled backward, being drawn up into the dark night forever. As the sun broke the horizon, the Princess lost consciousness __________________________________

Princess Derena lay on the ground, letting the warmth of the sun spread through her body, to her bones. She just lay, day dreaming, letting her mind wander. The clouds meandered across the sky like grazing ghosts. In the distance she could hear the sound of the villagers about their business and a smile crept across her face. Sitting up, she looked around and gathered wildflowers strewn about her feet. As the birds chirped, and chatted amongst themselves, Princess Derena turned and let the warm breeze carry her home.

THE END

On every night from that day forward, the silver thread could be seen across the night sky as the Milky Way. And every time it rained, all seven colours of the rainbow appeared. The Princess never forgot the dreadful land of Hate, her lost mother and the Dark Lord Warren, but she knew she was safe now, and they could never try to capture her again.

Ominous Blue Sky

Fri, 03 Aug 2007 05:03:19 GMT

Ominous Blue Sky

Jodine Derena Butler

(03/08/2007)

Had it not been for the Sky reception fading into the rain, the night would have been like any other. They were indifferent to the thunderstorm raging outside.

“Oh Fuck!” wailed Jane, lying on the couch in her blue Eeyore pyjama’s, thick fleecy socks covering the last of her chilled skin.

“I’m sick of that damn Sky reception going off. It’s not even raining hard.”

Wrestling with the blanket from under the dog, Jane pulled it up to her neck, and stared at the blue TV screen in a child-like sulk.

“It’s pissing down,” John stated in mock disbelief.

“Can’t you hear it?”

At that moment, lightning flashed, stealing snapshots, and two seconds later a loud grumbling resonated in agreement. Doris lifted her head, ears pricked, gauging the atmosphere, before settling back down to sleep at the foot of the blanket.

“It’s alright Doris,” Jane said, stroking her head.

“Shall we go out then?”

Silence enveloped the room like thick, heavy fog, obscuring the view.

It’s fucking RAINING!” John barked.

Paralysed on the adjacent couch, John's eyes darted open, waking from un-consciousness.

“I know but we only need a break in the weather to get to the car, then we could go and see a movie,” Jane reasoned.

“You can go. I’m not going anywhere in this weather.” John declared after a long pause, eyelids heavy, arms folded squarely across his chest.

“Lets go to bed then and snuggle.” Jane crooned, turning her head toward John, a cheeky smile spreading across her face.

“We could have a sleep”

The sounds of silence were ringing in Jane's ears. Dejected, Jane tried one last attempt to engage in conversation.

“Let’s DO something then!” Frustrated, Jane tried to capture his attention.

“It’s pissing down and I’m not going outside.” John’s agitation was clearly evident.

“So what do you want to do then? Jane stated, a familiar resignation, spreading like a disease through her cold body.

“NOTHING! It’s the FUCKING weekend and I want to chill-out for a while. Is that OK? Is that too much to ask!”

“Don’t snap at me! What’s crawled up your arse all of a sudden? Why don’t we chill out in bed then! We could listen to the rain and get warm and what’s wrong with having sex anyway! Jane retorted.

“Because I don’t feel like it”

“That’s what you always say! Can’t you think up a better line?”

Jane softened, realising she may have pushed him a little too hard.

“What’s wrong?” asked Jane, waiting for a response.

“NOTHING! Get off my back! You’ve been on my case for weeks!” John snapped.

FUCK OFF! Jane shouted her fierce eye’s indignant and inflamed.

“Don’t turn it around on me, you arsehole! You’re the one who’s grumpy and doesn’t want to do anything. YOU don’t even want to touch me!”

The pouring rain decides to settle, stemming the flow of overflowing down-pipes. The TV fades into view.

“Crikey – don’t do this at home kids. It’s dangerous stuff!” Say’s a wide-eyed Steve Irwin handling a Pit Viper by the neck. Jane slides back under the blanket and calls the dog up to be nearer to her. John eyelids finally relent and close, his thoughts escaping into the untouchable world of dreams.

Dib

Mon, 30 Jul 2007 07:04:20 GMT

Dib

Jodine Derena Butler

(30/07/07)

Dib felt the slimy ball of gristle lodge firmly in her throat. All the usual attempts to cough it up had failed. With pleading eye's wide with fright, she looked at each one of them seated around the dinner table. Mother was the first to notice her silent screams and beetroot face, in between mouthfuls of mashed potato.

"Warren, DO something!"

Warren looked up from his plate, his cheeks grotesquely distended, engorged and full to the brim with an unlikely combination of everything on his plate.

"Warren, she's CHOKING!", Gayle stated, her aggitation rising.

His mouthful partially swallowed, Warren lifted his head, his beady eye's stare straight through Dib as if he had misjudged the edge of the table, hitting the oversized wooden spoon and fork on the far wall. Continuing to eat, Warren beligerently glared at his wife Gayle in defiance of some moot point, unspoken and yet understood.

Dib knew this story well. Mother had fallen pregnant in the late 60's, out of wedlock, and an illegitamate daughter was born. Dib lived with her beloved grandparents on the Hibiscus Coast until the age of 4, when a triumphant yet absent mother arrived on the doorstep and announced her engagement to her first cousin Warren and in the second breath, demanded Dib be returned into her care. Gayle's choice of husband flew in the face of family and the percieved socially accepted norms of the times. A scandel eschewed. A rift developed between grandmother and mother. A combination of social isolation, a low income and a daily reminder of the child in question, made Dib an easy scapegoat for the family's misfortune. Warren felt the families shame and rejection like a blow to the head. Mother needed Warren to facilitate the illusion of the nuclear family. He made damn sure she knew it.

"She's your kid" he stated, continuing to consume his plate.

Dib could feel the last remnants of air, trapped in her lungs, burning in a stranglehold on her tiny body. Clasping her throat, her heart began beating louder in her ears, their voices became a whisper.

"WARREN, she's gone blue, don't just sit there!" Gayle yelled putting her knife and fork down, her head darting from side to side between him and her with increasing anger and frustration, and a hint of resignation.

Dib took one last look around the table frantically searching for threads of hope and instinctively threw herself onto the kitchen floor. Hitting the floor with a jolt, Dib felt the thick slimy lump of schnitzel partially dislodge. Siezing the opportunity, she thrust her small fingers down her inflamed, constricted throat and curled a finger around a protruding piece of chewed fat. Tugging persistently, the vile obstruction spewed out in a syrupy mess.

Inhaling deeply into her lungs, filling her self with resolve, Dib slowly came back to reality. Relieved and ashamed at the purging of her stomach, she mechanically scooped up the vomit with her hands and placed it on her plate. Avoiding the stunned eye's now fully focussed upon her, she continued to eat her dinner.

"Are you alright?" Mother asked, Dib nodded, embarrassed and humiliated.

"Mum, can I have some sauce?" said her brother Kerry, three years younger than Dib's six. Warren reached over and hands him the bottle.

The Record Player

Wed, 18 Jul 2007 12:00:08 GMT

The Record Player

Jodine Derena Butler

(18/07/2007)

Oh how I loved my new record player! I was sure no one else had one. A perfect square...a bit like me really. When split apart, it opened up to reveal a beautiful rubber mat with a little silver nub in the middle. A perfect centre. It had a swing arm on one side, and two knobs for speed and volume control. It also came with a small record collection. The Pied Piper of Hamlet, The Three Little Pigs and a collection of nursery rhymes. My favourite story was Jack and the Beanstalk. I would often gaze at the clouds through my window. I would play with it in my bedroom, and be in the stories, completely enamoured by another time and place. My thoughts stopped going round and round.

The Record Player

She was beautiful! Full of life and very loved. Voices and words, stories and songs transported me to another world. It became my time machine and I was happy. It was a record player, and I was loved.