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Rated: E · Fiction · Mystery · #1748354
One of my first attempts at flash fiction based on a prompt of finding a cellphone.
A Phone Call is Worth a Thousand Words

by Halli Gomez


Armed with her vacuum, Margaret was determined to clean the den. Clothes and food were everywhere, especially on the couch.  She couldn’t remember the last time it was cleaned, cushions off, getting to the bottom clean.

She took a deep breath and grabbed a pillow.  As expected, she found a lone sock, smelly and black on the heal and toes.  Under other cushions were chips, grapes, and cereal.  Margaret turned on the vacuum and began sucking up food lost in her thoughts until the vacuum hit something hard.

“A cell phone? That’s strange,” Margaret said aloud. “I wonder whose it is.”

As if in response to her question, the phone rang.  She was so startled by the noise that she dropped the vacuum and phone.  It wasn’t just the phone ringing, but the tone was unusual. It was eerie, disturbing; it gave her chills that made the hair on her arms stand up. 

“How long has it been here? I would remember that ring.” she thought, and shuddered, feeling cold deep in her bones and thinking of death.

It continued to ring.  Margaret looked around the room and out the windows.  It felt like someone was watching her and suddenly she was scared.  She was not sure what to do, but after five rings it stopped.  The number was blocked so she couldn’t call back.  Instead she put the phone down deciding to ask her husband.

As she reached for the vacuum, the phone started ringing again.  It made her afraid, as if something ghostly was near.

“What’s the problem?” Margaret said to herself. “It is just a cell phone and it’s not even mine.  One of our friends must have dropped it.”  She tried, but couldn’t remember the last time anyone had been over. 

She was so deep in thought that at first she didn’t hear the house phone ring.  Seeing it was her husband, she grabbed it frantically questioning him before he could say hello.

“It was in the couch, under the cushions.”  she began.  “I’ve never seen it before, did someone drop it?  Did someone visit?  It rang the second I picked it up. It’s very creepy.”

“Calm down.  What cell phone?  Mine is here.” he explained.

At that moment, the cell phone rang again. 

“I’ll call you back.”  she said as she hung up on him.

Margaret decided she had to know who was calling.  She picked up the phone timidly saying  “Hello?”

“Margaret?” the caller asked.  “Margaret I have something to tell you.”

The voice was not what she expected.  It wasn’t scary or sinister, but did sound familiar. Like her father, but of course that wasn’t possible because he’s been dead for twelve years.

“Margaret are you there?  It’s Dad.  I have something to tell you.”

“Who is this?” she screamed into the phone. “Is this a joke?  If you call back I will call the police!”

Margaret slammed the phone down and began shaking. 

The cell phone rang again. Margaret couldn’t do anything but stare at it.  She wanted to run away from the music but something unexplainable was preventing her. She listened to the ringing and tried to think of a reasonable explanation. Dead people don’t call on the phone. Or do they?  Deep down Margaret knew what she had to do.  She reached for the phone.

“Hello?” she said again.

“Margaret, it’s Dad.  Please don’t hang up, I have something to tell you.” he pleaded.

“Who is this?” she said.

“It’s Daddy.  I know this is strange, but I have something to tell you.”

“How can this be?”

“I can’t explain, but you need to get a pen and paper to write something down.”

“I’m ready.”

“Six, twelve, thirty-four, eight, twenty-six, fourteen.” he said. “Did you get that?”

“Six, twelve, thirty-four, eight, twenty-six, fourteen.”  she repeated.

“Yes, you got it.  I love you Margaret.”

Margaret stood there for several minutes trying to understand what just happened.  Again she said to herself that dead people don’t call on the phone.  But in her bones, she knew that was her daddy and would do what he asked.  She grabbed her keys and got into the car.

That night she sat by the television waiting impatiently until a well-dressed woman pulled numbered balls from a bin and called them out.
 
“Six, twelve, thirty-four, eight, twenty-six, fourteen.”  Margaret repeated as she stared at same numbers on her lottery ticket.

This time when the cell phone rang, she was eager to answer it!
© Copyright 2011 Halli Gomez (hbgomez at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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