Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Diaries of an Old Tape

Sitting there in the sunlight of which ruins me, I ponder and wonder about what I did to deserve this. I think about how nobody loves me anymore.

I never hurt anyone. I was just doing my job. One decade a teen with funny hair is head-banging to me, and then a fancy, shiny round object comes along, and he shaves his hair, cutting away all the fond memories I've had. Nothing will wipe away the memory I had where he fought with his parents to get me because of what I am labeled, but now the new shiny guys are who he possesses over.

Soon after my big friend, the juke box leaves from the yard sale, and I am left here with five others like me.

The stack of the round, arrogant discs pile up continuously around me, and a few decades later, I become slightly saddened because they themselves are slowly being outmoded by files on computers, making them like me. . . .obsolete.

At least my vinyl grandfathers are still listened to. I sang the best I could, but the quality of vinyl beats nothing except the futuristic computer files who mock all of us who sit in the sun, and collect dust, waiting for that one day where we are simply thrown out because of our uselessness.

Sitting there in the sunlight of which ruins me, I ponder and wonder about what I did to deserve this. I think about how nobody loves me anymore.

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