The record skips as it did that night. The man sits upright, but falls into a slouch as it all comes back. What was supposed to be a sweet tune, is now a heartbroken memory. He is not upset with the person, for it’s not their fault. It’s not like they asked for it to happen.

 

“You fall on your dreams,

rip apart its seams.

You touch your fallen star,

don’t know what you are.

 

Those complicated words you say,

are meant to hurt you so you fray,

you pain yourself and don’t shed tears,

you brush away your shame and fears.

 

To you you’re just a broken vase

forever lost but never changed,

I see you in a different view,

apart from what you’ve been used to.”

 

         He turns his head to look out the window at all the dark crevices between the trees. The forest is silent as it always is, always was. He reaches over towards the matches placed on the end table beside him. With a swift motion, it lights and is instantly dropped on the ground. Flickering like the lit wick of a candle, it took awhile to light the carpet and then the surrounding furniture. There were candles that night too, he recalled. The man closes his eyes and leans back into his chair. He remembers the night that has led him to all of this. All this work, all this effort, all this pain, suffering, and regret.

 

“Your sound is like a light that burns,

that fire is unlearned.

Your touch is like a gentle breeze,

that passion is unseen.”

 

         Candles: not one, but many, all lit. The woods weren’t quiet on this particular night. There was laughter, music, joy. Harold danced along with Elaine to their favorite tune, “Lifetime”. It was a slower song, but they still danced at their own tempo. It didn’t matter to them. They were happy, in love, and no one was around for miles. They couldn’t be judged.

 

“Stand alongside a hot fire,

With a glistening full glass.

Dancing on all the wrong beats,

We don’t have much class.”

 

         Harold had to go to the restroom, so he kindly excused himself. He smiled sweetly as he glanced at Elaine’s dancing figure before walking down the hall to his destination. He finished, but decided to brush his teeth quickly before returning back to his lover for they just finished dinner and he had a few pieces of garlic bread. When he was satisfied, he placed the toothbrush back into its holder. It was then that he heard the record skip.

         Maybe Elaine bumped into it, he thought. “Everything okay in there?” he asked. No answer. He began to get worried. “Elaine is everything alright?! Why is the record still skipping?” he yelled, figuring she couldn’t hear him. Still no response. 

 

“A song that plays for- awhile-,

all that- echoes is- your smile-,

I want you- for all -my time-,

So gi-ve me-,

 

Your lifetime.”

 

         With a slight shake in his hand, he reached for the knob to open the door. It swung open to the sight of raging flames. Why hadn’t he smelled the smoke before? It was so strong that it then overtook the room. The smell of previous garlic and mint toothpaste must have made it difficult to focus on it sooner. Worried for Elaine and himself, he knew that he first had to get out and find a way to get to her. But his exit was blocked.

         He then remembered the window behind him. He took the trash basket and threw it at the window, shattering it. Harold jumped out the now broken frame and rolled onto the cold ground, making grass stains on his clothes. He rose to his feet, almost falling back down in the process. His body shook, but he couldn’t give up hope just yet. His feet started to move, they took him to the front of the house. The living room where he left Elaine was right at the entrance, so he just had to open the door.

 

“Your- sound is like a- light that burns-,

that fire- is unlearned.

Your- touch is like- a gentle breeze-,

that- passion is unseen-.”

 

         It creeped open and to his horror he saw the flames. They replaced the walls, the curtain, the floor, the table. “Elaine!” the man screamed in desperation. He frantically looked around, searching for his beloved. Heart beats, beats, beats, then stops. Eyes blue turned gray, frozen at the sight. He wanted it to be a misplaced piece of furniture, but the layout was clear in his head. It was his house after all, their house. Was.

         It was not a flaming piece of furniture in the center of the living room, it was Elaine. Her lifeless body was now the burning embers in the inferno. There was blood coming from her head, staining the carpet crimson. She must have fallen and hit it on the table while she was dancing. He didn’t hear the thud because of the music. It was very loud, too loud, but there was no one else to tell them to turn it down. He wished there was.

 

“Your sound- is like a light -that burns,

that- fire is unlearned-.

Your touch is like- a gentle breeze-,

that passion- is unseen-.”

 

         His glass of spilt whisky was next to her on the ground along with a candle beside it. He couldn’t move even though he desperately wanted to. That’s what he regretted most. He couldn’t save her, she was already gone. The ceiling crumbled down, making no possible way to get to her even if she was still breathing.

         Harold walked one, two, three steps back. It was then that his legs gave out. He fell to the ground, tears streamed down his face. “Elaine!” he screamed. The droplets of water continued to fall, but it was not enough to stuff out the fire. “Why?” he whispered. Then he stopped. His voice was not the only sound. There was still the skipping record playing.

​

“A song that plays for- awhile-,

All that- echoes is- your smile-,

I want you- for all -my time-,

So gi-ve me-.

 

Your lifetime”

 

         The man rebuilt the log cabin two years after and decided it was time. He decorated it the same as it was previously. The candles were lit and placed in the correct spots. A glass of wine, a glass of spilt whisky, and empty plates with crumbs left over from a dinner were set on the table. He even put that old, damaged record on the turntable. That’s when he lit the match and let it burn. He carried the guilt of living for two years. The only thing that he believed would make it better, was to perish the way his dear Elaine had as if it were the same night.

         That old record skipped as it did that night. It was the only sound that prevailed over the crickets and sobs of a memory. 

 

“A song that plays for- awhile-,

All that- echoes is- your smile-,

I want you- for all -my time-,

So gi-ve me-,”

 

Your lifetime.