A Sad and Tired Phonograph Melting Music Into the Empty Room

Three dark-haired men cut a swath down the sidewalk. Heel clicks echoed off the brick facades like a howl through a canyon. Strongly they marched. A hint of military service was evident in the urgent and firm tempo of their steps. The taller one suddenly stops and looks up at the streetlight above him. The other two engaged in silent introspection walk a few steps farther before noticing the absence of thier companion. Turning, the one with the moustache glances back at the tall one with a smile. “Why must you always stop at this particular one?” he asks. “Lets hurry, or the Vodka will be gone for us!” Briskly gathering his long wool coat about him, the tall one rushes back into formation, and the three figures move down the street. Shoulder to shoulder, thier march takes them into an old faded doorway. Peeling green paint hides the age of the sagging boards they pass under. One. Two. Three doors on the left, and the voices can already be heard inside. A rusty laugh, that must be Alexei, the third rednosed companion reaches up and knocks at the door. The voices stop in a nervous anticipation, and a small camera in the dark recesses above the door focuses on the trio of faces. The rednose man grips the knob and tries to force the door open. Although locked, the rotten wooden doorframe splinters, and rednose spills into the room with his companions. Confused, he stares around the empty room at broken furniture and cobwebs. There is no bar in this room, and it looks like there never was. Astonished, he runs to the back room looking for the source of those rowdy voices that he longed to join. More dark and more dust in the back. The dust on the floorboards had sat undisturbed for years, and yet he could not find a single footprint. Were these devils? Drinking and cavorting on black greasy bat wings? He returned to the front, nervous, and unsettled. How is this possible? Retracing his steps, he noticed only one single set of footprints in the eddies and dunes of ancient dust. Those miserable friends of his were too scared to come in. Well, he would let them have it later. There was a time, he thought, that they would have always watched my back. We are all getting old I guess. And sloppy. Or if not just lazy then. He stepped out into an unfamiliar hallway. Gone was the fading green paint and brick. In place of the camera above the door, an angry sparrow peered from its nest. Wide eyed, rednose glanced around in search of his comrades. Vanyaaaaaa! Nikolaiiiiiiiiii! No response. Only the echo of his lone voice like a howl through a canyon. Now concerned, he rushes into the street glancing wildly about for any evidence of the two men.

7 thoughts on “A Sad and Tired Phonograph Melting Music Into the Empty Room

  1. I recently came across your blog and have been reading along. I thought I would leave my first comment. I don’t know what to say except that I have enjoyed reading. Nice blog. I will keep visiting this blog very often.

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