Introducing The Beatles?
Rain did whatever it is rain does. Not pelted but more of a thump. The rain heavy, like that big drum, the tympani, in the orchestra.
Corey held the Beatles album in his hand, staring at the cover. There was a slight shadow to the George Harrison’s right. Or was there?
Lightning flashed. He saw the shadow. Thump. Thump. Thump went his heart and the rain. The first raindrops always toughest, the heavy armor of the thunderstorm, the ones that couldn’t hang in the clouds anymore, opening rips in the vapor for lighter, flightier drops to follow after,
The lightning ended. His eyes unadjusted, left the room dark. He felt the plastic sleeve that held the record album in his hands, protecting it from the sweat. It was the last thing he had from the estate. Selling this would mean that everything was memories.
“It’s not like I’ll never hear a Beatles’ song again,” he said to himself.
Thunder did its thing without lightning ahead of it.
But he wouldn’t hear the Beatles’ songs the way he’d heard them first, not ever again, if he sold this. Coming from the big speakers of the hi-fi, Dad and Mom dancing, him sitting on the edge of the couch watching them laugh.
Handwritten on the cardboard sleeve: First dance, side A, song one.
Corey opened the plastic, took the record out, spun it on his finger. “Well, she was just seventeen…” he whispered.
250=1 is short stories, all of which are exactly 250 words long, including the title. In this case, the story isn't just one of those, but is an entry in Cherie Reich's Second Annual Flash Fiction Blogfest:
Click that link for more details! And click here to read more 250=1 stories.