The Tape Recorder

REWIND
I'm not supposed to be alive. Everybody says it, and now I kind of believe them. They said I was lucky, but I knew it was more than that.

Let me take you back to January 20, 1913. The frost was still clearing and everybody rejoiced at the sight of green leaves and the sun high in the sky. Serena was busy making preparations for Homecoming, and everybody was having a blast, except for, of course me.

I could tell you about who I am, what I was like, but then I realize I'm just wasting your time, aren't I? Let's just say I was your average sophomore highschooler, nothing more, nothing less. My mother used to say my dad was a great man, but to me he was just an enigma. He left when I was born and never looked back, and I hated him for that. She said he was where I got my eyes from, but I refused to believe that. In fact, at that time I refused to associate myself with my dad in any way. I often wondered why he left, but then I would quickly brush off the topic. He didn't leave because he had to, I thought to myself. He left because he wanted to. At that point in time, I would have told you how much of a jerk my father was, but that would just waste more of your time.

"Hey, do you have a minute?" I looked up, lost in thought. Serena eyed me strangely, and then gestured to me to come to her. "For you," I said, looking at my pocketwatch, "I have three. What do you need?"

She pointed to the janitor's closet, and gave me a look that I was trained to remember. At first I was clueless, but as I remembered about it all, I realized what she was talking about. What she really was talking about.

We quickly walked over to the janitors closet, and as she made a diversion, I quickly picked the lock with a few bobby pins I had stashed in my back pocket. I was a thief, there was no mistaking it, but I wasn't ready for this. Anything but this.

*           *            *

As we walked into the storage room, we discovered it was a pretty spacious place, considering all the junk stashed away here. Confiscated toys, powertools, and a whole bunch of stuff adorned the dusty shelves, but what interested me and Serena was the big cardboard box in the middle.

It was carefully packaged, and there was travel stamps from almost all the major cities. New York, California... this crate had been travelling all across America. Serena reached into her pocket and pulled out a butterfly knife with a rosewood grip. It had been confiscated multiple times, implying Serena was quite the outlaw. She exposed the blade with a deft and gracefull move, and handed it to me.

I was awkward holding it, for I never really preferred knives, but I knelt down and started to cut the tape. Something about the knife gave it a strange sense of foreboding, like whenever someone used it a terrible event would happen. Well, in my case, I guess you could say that.

When I finally cut open the last few layers of packaging tape, Serena stepped away from the door and went to the crate, signalling me to move to the door as watchman while she opened it.

Serena's expression changed to one of devious happiness, and as I walked over to the crate, I realized what she had been smilling at as she opened the package.

Through the dim light I could see grenades, dynamite, and a bunch of other explosives. Something was terribly wrong.

UNDER CONSTRUCTION