Write the Story ~

I’ve been reading Writer’s Digest Magazine at http://www.WritersDigest.com since its online inception. I particularly enjoy writing the article to their Writing Prompts. If you’ve never heard of Writer’s Digest, you should def check it out; there’s a menagerie of info all related to the Art of Writing. Below is # 28 from August 2010.

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During your weekly housecleaning you find an unfamiliar cell phone in the cushions of your couch–but can’t recall having any recent visitors. It rings.

Just as I was deciding whether to answer it, it stopped.  ‘Huh, I wonder who it belongs to?  Perhaps I should call one of the pre-programmed numbers, explain the situation and return it.’  While deep in thought, I hadn’t noticed the Summer evening skies blacken, nor registered the rumble of thunder in the distance.  The winds kicked up, a flash of light and thunder boomed so close it rattled the windows of my tiny pink trailer.  I quickly ran through the place closing and securing all the windows with the impending rain.  The lights flickered and suddenly I was plunged into darkness.  Damn!  I still had oodles of work to do before my friend’s visit tomorrow. ‘As usual, that’s what you get for waiting till the last possible moment to get something done.’

Stumbling toward the kitchen for the lighter, then back to the living room for one of the Yankee candles which line a shelf in my bookcase for just these occasions, the cell started to ring again; ‘huh, must be important’, then as quickly as it started, it stopped again.  No matter.  ‘Now, what can I do in the dark?  Not much really.  Read, maybe, if I had enough light.’  Back to the living room for the tapered candles, the tall candlesticks, the phone rang again.  With nothing better to do, I answered it; all I heard was heavy breathing.  I said, “Great, typical male.”, then hung up.

Of course at this point I really got to wondering how the phone ended up in my house, in my couch.  What if someone has been watching me, waiting, for just the right moment?  Afterall, I am in the throes of a nasty divorce; I did screw my soon-to-be-ex out of $10K.  He’s definitely got the cash to hire someone to scare the dickens outta’ me and personally, at this point, I wouldn’t put anything past him.  He’s angry, but more importantly, I broke his heart.

In the scantily lit room, the flickering candlelight danced across the paneling casting eerie shadows upon the walls and ceiling as the wildly whipped winds caused the branches of the Rose of Sharon bush to scrape against the windows.  Oh yes, it’s weather like this I am reminded I’ve got to trim those back.  ‘Wait!  Listen . . . . is it really the branches scratching the window, or . . . .’  Nah, am just imagining things, working myself up into a frenzy in the darkness of my tiny abode.  I hate being ground level, but with the divorce and only a part-time position after being forced to close my shoppe, I couldn’t afford much more than this place.  $300 a month; can’t beat that.  Again, the incessant phone rang.  Obviously no one I want to talk to, I let it ring.  Almost reminds me of that old black and white movie, oh what’s the name of it; it’s on the tip of my tongue.

The lights flickered again, on, off, on and then off again.  Darn, the entire evening wouldn’t be a total loss if they’d only come on and stay on.  Then I could finish cleaning and get a good night’s sleep, be totally refreshed for the long weekend ahead.

With thoughts of spending some quality time with the friend I’d lost touch with, the phone rang again.  Totally annoyed, angrily I answered it, “What do you want?”  In a barely audible whisper I heard, “I’ve been watching you.”  I hung up.  It rang again; I picked up, but didn’t say anything.  I waited, then heard, “If I wanted to, I could touch you.”  As what he said registered in my brain, I said,  “Wait, you’re saying you’re inside?  You’re inside my house?  Right now.”  “I could touch you right now, does that frighten you?”  I dropped the phone.  Panic mode!  ‘No, that’s what he’s counting on.  Okay woman, think, fast.  Call 911, but not with this phone; earlier I noticed it’s a Nextel, a walkie-talkie type phone, could be rigged to anywhere.’

Scrambling down the hall in the dark to retrieve my own cell where I left it plugged in I thought it sure would be nice if the lights came back on right about now, but then he’d surely have to kill me because I’d see his face.  Okay, good, I found the cord, I’ve got the phone and just as I was flipping it open something brushed against my arm.  Ah geez!    

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