"Honestly Ben, I don't think I can take it anymore." Anna Magdalena "Lena" McGaughey sighs and falls onto the stool near Ben. She is getting tired of going to work everyday and having to face the bleak realities of modern day youth. It is becoming increasingly annoying getting asked for Britney Spears CDs by goofy, ridiculous collectives of teenagers; who in Lena's perspective all look alike. Same hair, same clothes, possibly even the same brain.
Lena is twenty-one years old and finishing up her junior year in college. At the moment she is spiritually rotting away at work and twisting her long, blonde hair around her fingers. Lena is her own person. She has friends, but does not have the pack mentality that others her age do. Her mind swims with boredom as she releases her hair and moves her hand upward to brush the straight line of silver hoops that dangle from her ear, she has fourteen total. She then glances at her hands, paled by dark green nail polish and the multitude of rings that rest on her fingers. She has been called many things; weird, hippie, odd, and her personal favorite-eccentric. She likes things that nobody else seems to. Old and art house movies, old books, old clothes, and old music are amongst her many passions. In all actuality, music is more than her passion.
For Lena, music might as well be another appendage and a part of her being. Her CDs brim to over five hundred, her acoustic guitar is well worn, and her job is something that she takes pride in. She considers it an arena to show her knowledge of rock and roll and its history.
Ben looks at her cheerfully, "Well it could be worse. Remember the Spice Girls?"
Lena nods in agreement, then groans, "Oh what I wouldn't have done to live in the sixties! Sit-ins! Flower Children! The Beatles!" Lena usually doesn't complain, but for some reason she can't stop what she is feeling. People have told her that she wasn't meant for these times, and she tends to agree. She feels old. She certainly doesn't feel twenty-one.
Ben laughs, "Well, you certainly dress the part, Sunshine." Lena looks down to her clothes. Sterling bracelets jangle nearly to her elbow, covered only slightly by the flared sleeves of her green shirt. She wears a filmy brown skirt that grazes the top of her ankle and the brown sandals on her feet expose her toes. Lena has to laugh in spite of herself, "Yeah, I know. I have taken the whole vintage-thrift store shopping to another level."
Lena stops laughing and looks intently at Ben with her deep green eyes, "Seriously Ben, haven't you ever believed that sometime, somehow you were, I don't know-misdropped?"
Ben looks thoughtful. "You mean like paratroopers?"
Lena rolls her eyes. Leave it to Ben to go off on a tangent. He scratches his ear and answers, "Yeah, actually. I have always wanted to live during Beethoven's era, or maybe Chopin's. Hey, I could meet Bach and his wife for you!"
Lena smiles broadly, hoping that it doesn't look too fake. Her mother gave her name to her after reading a book about Johann Sebastian Bach, whose second wife was named Anna Magdalena. Quite frankly, this name has given her problems since day one. Nobody knows how to spell it or they call her "Annie," "Maggie," or "Mags."
"You see Ben, I want to live in the Sixties. Visit London, San Francisco, and all of the other hot spots. It would be absolutely fabulous." Just then, a petite adolescent girl approached Lena, she twists her hair and says, "Um, I was like wondering if you like carry any older albums?" Lena looks hopefully at the girl and thinks, a teenager interested in the past!
Lena smiles and asks, "Sure, what are you looking for? The Beatles? Janis Joplin?"
The girl's face contorts in disbelief and says, "I said older not ancient! I am looking for Celine Dion's album Falling Into You..." The smile drops from Lena's face and she sighs, "Right this way."
After work, Lena goes home and takes off her sandals. She falls on her bed and rubs her temples of her forehead, "Stupid, oblivious kids." She rises again to push "play" on the CD player. The room fills with the sounds of The Beatles' Revolver album. The song "Tomorrow Never Knows" echoes within the narrow walls of her room. Lena looks around her room, the place where she goes to take sanctuary from the travails of life. Beatles posters adorn the off-white walls, records, music boxes and various paraphernalia is littered across the furniture. Above her closet door is a street sign that says ABBEY ROAD.
Lena dreams of the day that she can go to England and see all the fabled places she has heard about; the Cavern Club, Penny Lane, Strawberry Field, and EMI Abbey Road Studios. She changes into her pajamas and falls into bed, exhausted from the day's events. She drifts off to the recesses of her mind as The Beatles play softly on the stereo...
Lena wakes with a jump from her deep sleep. She sits silently for a moment and listens with bated breath. She heard something; birds, car horns, and people talking. She quietly lifts herself from the warmth of her bed only to see a light radiating beneath her closet door.
Lena creeps forward, "I left the dumb
light on again!" That's when she heard it, a blaring
car horn coming from her closet. Lena cautiously
touches the doorknob. "What the hell am I afraid of?
It's only my closet!" She yanks open the door and a
bright purple light envelops her.
Written by Cinder Whittier. May not be reproduced in any form, by any means, without the permission of the author. Permission may be obtained by e-mail.
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