Writing the Essay Assignment

Writing the Essay Assignment
Progression I, Assignment 2: Scene

The attic door made an unearthly creak and slammed behind me. Immediately the music hit my ears. “He got feet down below his knee, hold you in his armchair you can feel his disease, come together right now over me…”
I was mesmerized by the music and I walked over to the source of the melody. As I walked towards a shadowy figure I could hear the floorboards creek with every step I took. The man was standing next to an old wooden mahogany table. A phonograph sat on the table with the golden funnel-shaped horn pumping music throughout the room. “Maxwell Edison, majoring in medicine, calls her on the phone ‘Can I take you out to the pictures Jo-o-o-oan?’” The mysterious man was right in front of me.
“Hey Dad, what are you up to?” I could tell my father was startled.
“Nothing, I was just going through my old record collection.”
“Record? What’s a record?” I said sarcastically.
“Very funny.”
The room had a musty odor. I guess it’s a universal smell that all attics have, that indescribable, but very familiar unique “attic-y smell”. My father and I were both slightly hunched over, the roof of the house directly over us; a network of wooden boards, aluminum sheets, and insulating fluff. We stood on an old Oriental rug, pigeon blood red with patterns of exotic flowers on it and lush green vines, not to mention a few coffee stains. There were cardboard boxes everywhere, boxes filled with everything imaginable, faded magazines, yellowed newspapers, clothes from the 70s, family photo albums, a Magic 8-ball, my old train set, an artificial Christmas tree, videotapes, old movie posters, love letters from long ago. A solitary light bulb hung from the ceiling by a thin red cable. The light bulb swung ever so slightly, a glowing pendulum, it altered the shadows in the room. Shadows shifted from side to side, almost if they were dancing in time with the music. “I'd like to be under the sea, in an octopus' garden with you…”
“So what are you listening to?”
“The Beatles, they’re probably one of the most influential bands in rock and roll history. They changed music forever.”
I concentrated on the phonograph on the table. The record was slightly misshapen, as old records often are, not perfectly flat, but there were bumps, waves, and curvatures. The record sat on the turntable, as it spun around and around like a hypnotizing merry-go-round. It amazed me how this beautiful music was created from a rotating black disc and a needle. “Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting…”
I stared down at the album sleeve my father was holding in his hands. I could make out the aged and faded album cover. It was a photograph of four men walking across a street; one man dressed in all white, one dressed in all black, another one barefoot, and last man dressed in denim. It was like a miniature parade. “Because the sky is blue, it makes me cry…”
“I really like the cover art. What’s the album called?”
“It’s called Abbey Road. You can borrow it if you want.”
“Thanks Dad.”I stood there, next to my father. We listened to the rest of Abbey Road together as the light bulb continued to gently sway throughout the rest of the night. “Sleep pretty darling do not cry, and I will sing a lullaby...”