I really hate the fact that most times...My guts are always right. ..A Short Story...

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Sweetest Sorrow X
Member

since 2004-01-19

Posts 146
From a cradle to a casket

0 posted 2004-10-17 01:27 AM

He watched his watch patiently. It would be 3:50 soon and he knew the teacher always let the class out on time. Timothy was never one to be too interested in World History, and this afternoon was no different.

Timmy sat with his legs crossed, his eyes and mind peered down at his watch, the seconds replacing each other, the digital blink almost made the numbers seem to mutate from one another. Scanning his desk, anxiously waiting for the cluttered sound of classmates as desperate as him, packing up his belongings, he noticed his textbook.

"History: An Overview" was printed in bold uppercase along the top. Timmy placed his hands over the book and felt its cool gloss. In the flouresent light the book glowed brightly. He manuevered the book from left to right, reflecting the light on every inch of the cover. Suddenly without warning his eye caught an odd impression in the books finish. "Dear Emily" it began.

--"Alright class, for Wednesday I want you to finish the readings listed on your handouts."

The sudden tremor of fourty five classmates scooting and shoving their way out the front door reverberated across the room.

--"And don't forget, your term paper topics are due..."

His voice was lost in the eruption of voices beginning as children reached the door.

Timothy sat silently, eyes broad, darting left and right across the tilted cover of his textbook. His mouth slighty open, breath fogging the bottom of the cover.

--"Are you alright....Mr. Lackers?"

Suddenly startled by a voice loud and directed at him, Timothy looked up.

--"Huh?"

A look of almost pain hit the teacher's face.

--"I said" sounding angered by his pupils disrespect, "are you alright, you are sitting there like you've seen a ghost."

Timothy's mind was anywhere but on answering questions.

--"Yeah, I'm...fine...yeah...bye"

He said it in a hurried manner, stuffing all of his belongings into his bag. He rushed out of the door and bolted for his car. He couldn't believe what he had just read.

Looking down at the mess that was the driver seat of his car, he slumped heavily inside. It was the middle of August and everything was set on broil. He clumbsy forced his car key into the ignition and cranked the car on. The sudden rush of hot air made him flinch, a gust like a hot breath came flooding over his already boiling face. Squinting his eyes, he put the car in gear and stepped on the gas.

An hour later Timothy was laying flat on his stomach on his apartment floor. He'd fumbled with a mess of art supplies in his closet until he found them. His charcoal stained hands finally produced the right paper for rubbings. Carefully he pressed the paper down and began to rub.

Timothy was certain he'd read it wrong, some words messed in the transfer from paper to stiff cardboard. He was sure the message was far less cryptic or maybe even something totally different.

With each stroke of the charcoal over the paper, he realized that couldn't be further from the truth. Each line became more and more visible. His darting hand left out no detail. The letter was final, its transfer from book cover to paper had made the words even more startling.

Timothy sat with his back to the couch scanning the lines.

"Dear Emily," it began. "Get out. 8-20-02 is the date they gave me. If you aren't out of the country by then, I'm sure you won't be seeing too many more sunsets. I love you, and if I ever find you after it is over, We'll finish all those promises we made each other. Remember be out of the country by..."

It trailed off after that. Timothy sat back against the couch, the wooden plank that held the cushions in place dug into his back.

--"That's tomorrow"

Timothy thought outloud.

--"But how can I believe anything I just rubbed off of my history book."

Picking up the book again, he flipped it over and over. Standing up, he walked towards his room.

In the hallway that led to his bedroom Timothy's whole body was washed in light. The one window he loved the most sat in the hallway, the window stuck out into the sky, it was his favorite place in the apartment. It looked nothing like the rest of his place. His low rent place was conviently located on campus, but not so well designed.

Timothy paused. The light had caught something he missed before. At the bottom of the book was a phone number. The first three digits were some he'd seen a hundred times before. He rushed to his room and placed the book on the table, bearing down, he started rubbing the charcoal against the smooth white paper again.

The number 4560252 slowly appeared on the paper. White numbers in a sea of dusty black. Sitting down in his chair, Timothy picked up his phone.

"Well," he thought to himself "If this is a prank, at least I'll know for sure."

The phone rang what seemed like endlessly.

"I'll just count to ten then hang up."

"6..7..8.."

The phone clicked over.

"Emily, if this is you, I left, I couldn't wait any longer. Get out of here now, get out, don't bother warning people, they won't believe you. If all else fails and you can't get out, call this number."

The sound of rustling papers came suprisingly clearly over the reciever.

"I hope you have a pen, it's 435 723 3545, got that? The guy you are looking to talk to is Eddie, he'll know what you need."

The phone beeped and the frantic voice was replaced with a detectable mechanical sound of dead air. Timothy quickly hung up the phone. The numbers were a smeary mess of marker on his forearm.

Timothy sat there dumbfounded. How could this be? How old was the note? Who was Emily? Timothy shook his head from side to side quickly. The number would answer some of this anyway.

Timothy picked up the reciever again slowly. He pressed the numbers with a slow deliberate finger. Checking and rechecking the smeared numbers. The phone only rang three times, not long enough for Timothy to get his head ready.

--"Yeah whatcha need?"

--"Um, hi, I got this number from a friend, he told me you would know what this was about."

--"You don't sound much like a chick. Stanley said a chick would be callin.."

--"Oh, Emily, right? Well, it is sort of a long st..."

--"Forget it kid, you ain't her, but, damn, this is such a messed up time, just. You know where Elory Street is?"

--"Um, yeah, right by The Warehouse."

--"Yeah, building number 345, you better get there quick, we aren't going to stay here forever, and if you do know Emily, you better get her here too, Stanley keeps callin' me, won't leave the line open for the others. Just hurry."

The phone clicked off. Another line had appeared in smeary black ink on his arm. Grabbing his bag, tearing out all the books besides history, he stuffed some clothes in and darted out of the door.

Timothy stopped dead in the center of his hall. A plume of smoke in the shape of a mushroom was forming in the distance. It was held off center in the window. Timothy was frozen. the bag slipped out of his hand and spilled onto the floor. The history book spun into the light. The date pressed into the cover glowed brightly on the floor. August 20, 2002.

The day after.

I believe that lovers should be tied together and thrown into the ocean in the worst of weather and left there to drownin their innocence

Marge Tindal

Member Empyrean

since 1999-11-06

Posts 42384
Florida's Foreverly Shores

1 posted 2004-10-17 01:54 PM

SS~
Young lady ...
This short piece held my interest from first paragraph to closing~

I am not a critiquer ... but I certainly know talent when I read it ... you've got it ~
I hope you do something positive with your writing ... like getting published !
Yeah ... I think you're that good ... there is a market out there for this ... get busy and find it !!!

Again ...
*Huglets*
~*Marge*~

~*When the heart grieves over what it has lost,
the spirit rejoices over what it has left.
- Sufi epigram <))><

Email noles1@totcon.com

*Alli4000*

Member Elite

since 2004-03-21

Posts 3188
The World of Poetry

2 posted 2004-10-17 04:15 PM

I thought I was a big fan of your poems, but guess what? I'm even a bigger fan of your prose.

This story was so interesting, and like Marge said, it held my attention from the beginning to the end. Great job!

~Alli~

*:.AIM = Alli4000.:*
Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened...

Carol123
New Member

since 2004-10-11

Posts 6

3 posted 2004-10-19 01:27 PM

This short story is awesome! Thank you for your gift of words. I was riveted from the first sentence.

Kethry
Member Rara Avis

since 2000-07-29

Posts 9082
Victoria Australia

4 posted 2004-10-27 06:21 PM

Wonderful short story, it held my attention from beginning to end and was complete in every way.

Here in the midst of my lonely abyss, a single joy I find...your presence in my mind. Unknown

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