Games
Problems
Go Pro!

Writing > Users > joonmymoon > 2010

Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Dial Tone- A Life Story

by joonmymoon

IMPORTANT NOTE: This is a piece of a longer writing project. You can view the entire project here: Dial Tone- A Life Story

The following is a piece of writing submitted by joonmymoon on January 7, 2010

Dial Tone- A Life Story (part 2)

She thought it’s probably best not to look back or even to guess ahead. Maybe we all should stand exactly where we are and watch things from a different height, like one would an aquarium full of fish.

As she sits at the edge of her bed, trying to put some socks on, she remembered the people she used to call home. She remembered the conversations they used to have, and all the times she wished she wasn’t there. It still makes her sick to her stomach, how adults gave their duplicitous remarks. “For someone who claims to have so much experience, and argues that they have it together, grown-ups are such a mess”, she used to tell her father. And her father just laughs.

She lived for her father. He was the love of her life. Well, IS but WAS, technically. She lost him, as she feared since she was a little girl. He picked her up, and dusted her off. He taught her everything he was able to, within his given time.

She recalls him saying “What’s the point of saying sorry anyhow? It will not change anything that has been done with.” And so she stood by this principle all her life.

So here she is, standing in front of Parker‘s desk, about half an hour late.

“The end of the day was half an hour ago.”

“I know…thank you for waiting. Here’s the article. I’ll wait for your email tomorrow, for the next article.”

“Well that was a nice apology. You don’t really say sorry, do you June?”

She didn’t respond. She was too busy looking out his window. There’s something about sunsets that leave her in complete awe.

“June?”

“Oh. Wow.”

“Wow what?”

“There is a great painter up in the heavens. Look at those oranges that turn into pinks that turn into violets. Look how each color cascades on top of each cloud.”

She traced each division of color with the tip of her index and middle fingers against his window. Very delicately, as if she’d mess the mixture up if she pressed any harder. Her eyes flickered in disbelief of a gorgeous setting. His eyes were fixed on hers. His lips didn’t part into smiles. As a matter of fact, he looked completely apathetic of her joy. But in him, deep within him, he was smiling.

“You can leave now June. I’ll let you know what I think of your article tomorrow.”

“Ok.”

She kept standing there. Her feet stapled on the floor she was standing on, her eyes still on the heavens ahead. He shook his head and grabbed his things. Before he walked through the door, he looked at her again- her silhouette against the bright sunset.

“Shut the door before you leave then.”

The door loudly shuts. A door shut in place of a goodbye. As quick as a dial tone; much, much like a dial tone. Again, the story of her life.

More writing by this author


Blogs on This Site

Reviews and book lists - books we love!
The site administrator fields questions from visitors.
Like us on Facebook to get updates about new resources
Home
Pro Membership
About
Privacy