This is a repost of a story from 2017, the first one I wrote for
The Elephant’s Trunk.
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āImpressive collection you have hereā said Jackson to the owner of the record store.
āFeel free to look aroundā came a voice from somewhere behind a stack of boxes.
Jackson browsed the tiny cubby of a store, appropriately named āThe Inner Sleeveā, looking for nothing in particular.
āPsst. Down here!ā A battered box stashed in the corner called out. Jackson crouched down to wipe the dust off a yellowed label.
āSIDNEY BECHETā
Feeling a jolt shoot straight to his heart, fingers racing through musty LPs, and suddenly there it was- āLes Annees Bechetā, #1: āPetite Fleurā.
āIāll be damnedā, whispered Jackson. No longer was he in “The Inner Sleeve”. It was Paris, 1982 in that enchanting cafĆ© … what was the name?
āCafĆ© de la Paix. Yes, that was it!ā he recalled. And then, in a barely perceptible hush, āLisetteā.
Slumping back against the wall, Jackson clasped the precious vinyl against his chest, caressed it lovingly with the same fingers that raced through the box just seconds before. The same fingers that released Lisetteās raven hair from its āpince Ć cheveaxā and showered it across her porcelain shoulders. The same fingers that traced her face as gently as butterfly wings ā āailes de papillonsā ā from her widows peak to her crystal blue eyes, her nose, her blushed lips. āJust this one timeā thought Jackson. Just once before returning to his insanely mundane existence in Stamford, Connecticut.
Oh, for just one more taste of Lisette.
Slowly Jackson stood, a sadness like none other enveloping him. He suddenly realized he had been crying and wiped at his eyes self-consciously. He wound his way through the maze of boxes overflowing with records that were meaningless to him. He had found what he didnāt know he was looking for.
āAll done, sir?ā the clerk asked.
āYes, thanksā, Jackson replied. āJust this one.”
NAR Ā© 2017
The Elephant's Trunk 
A beautiful story tinged with the tug of old memory.
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They say you never forget your first love. Well, this was the first story I wrote when I took up writing seriously. I’m pretty proud of it. Thanks so much, Bridgette. š«
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That’s awesome! What a beautiful first love.
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Sidney Bechet! Great stuff! Have you heard of The Avalon Jazz Band? They do some of his songs…
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That was superb! Thanks for the turn on, John! š¶
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Tatiana Eva-Marie is a tremendous singer, isn’t she?
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Her voice is perfect for these types of tunes. There’s another group you might like to check out, if you aren’t aware of them already. They’re called Postmodern Jukebox and I think they have a really special sound.
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The first story was also fantabulous! You’re born storyteller šš
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That was truly the first story I wrote when I began writing seriously in 2017. It won first place in an online writing competition group I belonged to at the time and I haven’t stopped writing since. Thank you for your very generous comments, KK. š¹
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Well begun is not half begun, but full begun in your case. Keep writing! All the best šš
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Magnifique!
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Ooh la la!! I’m liking all these French comments this morning. Merci beaucoup, D! š¹
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De rien!
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I know that feeling. Itās like when one of your favourite socks goes missing in the washing machine. Non? C’est bon. š
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Aha! I see you are a hopeless romantic, like moi. Oui, it is exactement as you describe, mon cherie! But only your most treasured chaussette, non? š§¦
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Hopeless, truly. This is the woman who celebrated her wedding anniversary on the wrong date for decades.
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š I bet the back story on that tidbit is fascinating! How the hell does something like that happen? š
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No back story really. Weāre just not terribly attentive about dates. š For a long time, we thought it was the 18th. Turned out it was the 16th. At least we both turned up at the church on the same day.
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Amazing both of you getting the date wrong. Well, at least you were in the right month! š
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We are made for each other. š
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Thereās something about a particular song that will bring back to mind a first loveā¦
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You got that right, Lesley! If you check out the new website I’ve been working on, you may discover some songs that make you feel that way. (Blatant self-promotion, I know) š š¶
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Iām all for blatant self promotion š
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Where is the new site, please, Nancy?
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I’ll post a blurb and link when we’re up and running on Thursday. It’ll be right here on my usual site. Thanks, Lesley!
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great š
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That struck a chord with that Woody Allen movie, I forget its name, somebody flashing back but to 1920s Paris.
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Oh, you mean Midnight in Paris with Owen Wilson and Rachel McAdams where the guy time-travels to 1920s Paris every night at midnight.
Yeah … never heard of it.
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if you say so š¤£
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šš¹
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What a moving story
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Thank you, Sadje, I’m glad it moved you. š
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Youāre welcome Nancy
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