Short Stories

My Radio

I was surrounded by darkness and the muffled sound of a broken radio. The station played nothing but old songs from the forties.

I'd always taken great pleasure in music from that era. No matter whether it was upbeat or ominous, fast or slow, it made me feel detached. That feeling was all I'd ever needed. All I'd ever wanted was to float away into nothingness; to forget what my troubles were, what it was to be alive. Of course, I knew that I'd never truly be released into that state, but whenever all the lights were off and not a sound remained in the air, all I had to do was turn on that radio and I'd get damn close to somewhere. I tried not to do it too often because I didn't want it to lose its charm, to get tired and older.

My radio broke one day.

I'm not sure how, exactly. Maybe I dropped it or bumped against it or-

Something happened to it, I don't know.

This event tied me down back into the place that I dreaded so indefinitely. Not a coin did I have to buy a new one. Even if I had, it wouldn't have been the same. So I gave up. For years now, I hadn't touched the thing.

I looked at it again today. It was well past midnight. I dug it out of my drawer the moment I remembered it and dusted it off before plugging it in. It crackled loudly but behind the curtain of noise remained the music that laughed in return to my cries. It was what had dwelled within me for so long.

And that sleepy lagoon intoxicated me so. It overcame me as I forgot what I'd ever cared for.

Nothing on this earth had ever mattered to me so, nothing had enveloped me and taken me away so quickly and with such vigour and intensity.

Though I was content in the moments where I drifted off, I would in a fraction be taken back and then overcome with the pain of being alive. At some point the crackling stopped and I heard nothing but a smooth melody. I listened to the songs as they passed by me, leaving behind their scents of roses and lilacs. So lovely.

I think it was Amapola that was playing when I stood. I went over to my desk. I started to open all the drawers, hurriedly looking about for it. My fingers curled around the rope finally. I'd gone about tying it a long time ago and leaving it there, waiting for the day.

More songs slipped by as I got everything prepared. I tied the rope onto my railings and moved the radio. More songs had passed by the time all was ready. I hummed about to each one of them, familiar with every single note.

My mother had loved this kind of music.

Before I managed to put my neck in the rope's grasp I sang the last line of the song that she loved the most.

"There Are Such Things", that's what it was called. My feet left the chair, the voices that haunted me pressing on.

I heard the footsteps of my girl come in as I did so, heard her screams. I wished to tell her to hush, that I was trying to listen to my music.

How peculiar, that events should repeat themselves so.

I remember screaming too, when I saw her.

Oh well.

I remember how I broke my radio now.