| Writing Fiction posted May 11, 2015 |
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Short story
A View With a Room
by michaelcahill
James stood by the large picture windows, gazing over the open fields, to the purple tinged mountains beyond. Darkness would be coming soon, and with it a storm. He flinched as a crack of lightning split the murky sky. He turned and threw another log on the open fire, sending a flurry of ash into the air. He refilled his whiskey glass, and took a deep sip. He savoured the taste as it warmed his throat. He was trying to build up the courage to make that phone call he had been putting off all day. He reached for the phone just as it started to ring.
He may as well been hit by lightning. He recoiled from the sound of the phone as though it entered his ear and feasted on his brain. It had not rung in over two years. His morning phone call had become a ritual with great angst, but no purpose. No one ever answered. He doubted there was anyone left to answer.
A nasally, electronic voice greeted him, "There is an important matter our office needs to discuss with … James Donnerfield … please call …. "
He hung up. A machine couldn't penetrate the sense of aloneness permeating his being. But, for God's sake, how is such a call possible if there is no one to push a button or type in a computer command. Electronic voices don't activate themselves … or do they? James laughed at the semi-serious tone of his thought.
"I've been the last man on Earth for too long. I'm going bats. Take me to your power center that I may meld with your electronic essence. Ha!"
He laughed and the stuffed armadillo laughed with him in a high pitched but reserved voice. Well, actually it just sits there, collecting dust staring at an interesting spot on the wall. Hmm, that's presumptuous of me. The truth is, I find the spot interesting. I can't honestly speak for the armadillo, but I have my suspicions.
The music to the old sitcom "Bewitched" rang throughout the room.
Gotta stall for time. It could be anything at the door. God! Maybe a mechanical pizza deliveryman.
Must change that doorbell tone …. "Hold on, I'm coming."
Sure, here's your money "pizza delivery man" and a little something for you. Now I'll eat my poison pizza and conveniently die. Ha! That would play right into your mechanical hands.
"Honey, the pizza's here. Do you have any ones for a tip?"
What's this? Another voice. Honey? I must be "honey". Okay, play along. "Sure … ah … sweetums, my wallet's on the mantle." A hologram perhaps ... but for what purpose?
"Sweetums? I'll settle for Monica, Romeo. You kill me. Ha!"
Monica? Romeo? Death by Shakespearean reference! Gotta stay on my toes. Mercy! Mechanical pizza boys, holographic wife … what next?
Ah, but what a view. Perhaps another log on the fire. Yes, a few more sips of whiskey. Oh … disconnect the phone. There, now I can relax and enjoy the day. I love a room with a view.
Are those mountains really purple? They seem more of a dull grey the more I look at them. I need to change that lightbulb; it keeps flickering. Part of the plan to drive me crazy no doubt.
James once again stood by the large picture window. The view was a never-ending kaleidoscope of scenic wonder. Flurries of snow surrounded fluffy bunnies frolicking in the blossoming meadow. A snowman feverishly puffed on a hand carved pipe melting his lips making him look cross as though the meadow was not to his liking. The bunnies eyed his carrot nose as though considering a cunning plot to purloin it. Hunger was a powerful motivator in the meadow.
But, bunnies have reputations to uphold. Little mechanical girls might go haywire if they were to see bunnies engaged in criminal activity.
"If you steal my nose do I not chase it as though it were running? Monica. Monica! I'll have some of that pizza now."
Wait … wait. There is no Monica. Well, no real Monica. Is my loneliness conjuring mechanical replicas of my wife? That makes sense. But, a mechanical pizza boy, that is a neurotic notion to be sure. How could his Nissan Altima remain on the icy roads? How could he then drive through a field of wildflowers without disturbing a flower petal?
Well, useless speculation. Just enjoy the view.
I've never trusted bunnies. I always thought they were mean spirited. Hiding the eggs … whose idea was that? Theirs no doubt. Oh look at all the children groveling and competing for hidden eggs. What fun to make sport of them. Easy for you when hopping comes naturally.
Lightning without thunder, how can I get my bearings without being able to time the separation between the flash and the roar? For all I know, I'm at lightning central soon to burst into flames. Well, I don't think a bunny would go that far. But, they keep twitching their noses, a sure sign of lying.
Well my armadillo will protect me … or … perhaps all that armor should give me pause as to his true intentions. No armor for me. Hmmm, interesting.
Finish the chapter contest entry
James stood by the large picture windows, gazing over the open fields, to the purple tinged mountains beyond. Darkness would be coming soon, and with it a storm. He flinched as a crack of lightning split the murky sky. He turned and threw another log on the open fire, sending a flurry of ash into the air. He refilled his whiskey glass, and took a deep sip. He savoured the taste as it warmed his throat. He was trying to build up the courage to make that phone call he had been putting off all day. He reached for the phone just as it started to ring.
He may as well been hit by lightning. He recoiled from the sound of the phone as though it entered his ear and feasted on his brain. It had not rung in over two years. His morning phone call had become a ritual with great angst, but no purpose. No one ever answered. He doubted there was anyone left to answer.
A nasally, electronic voice greeted him, "There is an important matter our office needs to discuss with … James Donnerfield … please call …. "
He hung up. A machine couldn't penetrate the sense of aloneness permeating his being. But, for God's sake, how is such a call possible if there is no one to push a button or type in a computer command. Electronic voices don't activate themselves … or do they? James laughed at the semi-serious tone of his thought.
"I've been the last man on Earth for too long. I'm going bats. Take me to your power center that I may meld with your electronic essence. Ha!"
He laughed and the stuffed armadillo laughed with him in a high pitched but reserved voice. Well, actually it just sits there, collecting dust staring at an interesting spot on the wall. Hmm, that's presumptuous of me. The truth is, I find the spot interesting. I can't honestly speak for the armadillo, but I have my suspicions.
The music to the old sitcom "Bewitched" rang throughout the room.
Gotta stall for time. It could be anything at the door. God! Maybe a mechanical pizza deliveryman.
Must change that doorbell tone …. "Hold on, I'm coming."
Sure, here's your money "pizza delivery man" and a little something for you. Now I'll eat my poison pizza and conveniently die. Ha! That would play right into your mechanical hands.
"Honey, the pizza's here. Do you have any ones for a tip?"
What's this? Another voice. Honey? I must be "honey". Okay, play along. "Sure … ah … sweetums, my wallet's on the mantle." A hologram perhaps ... but for what purpose?
"Sweetums? I'll settle for Monica, Romeo. You kill me. Ha!"
Monica? Romeo? Death by Shakespearean reference! Gotta stay on my toes. Mercy! Mechanical pizza boys, holographic wife … what next?
Ah, but what a view. Perhaps another log on the fire. Yes, a few more sips of whiskey. Oh … disconnect the phone. There, now I can relax and enjoy the day. I love a room with a view.
Are those mountains really purple? They seem more of a dull grey the more I look at them. I need to change that lightbulb; it keeps flickering. Part of the plan to drive me crazy no doubt.
James once again stood by the large picture window. The view was a never-ending kaleidoscope of scenic wonder. Flurries of snow surrounded fluffy bunnies frolicking in the blossoming meadow. A snowman feverishly puffed on a hand carved pipe melting his lips making him look cross as though the meadow was not to his liking. The bunnies eyed his carrot nose as though considering a cunning plot to purloin it. Hunger was a powerful motivator in the meadow.
But, bunnies have reputations to uphold. Little mechanical girls might go haywire if they were to see bunnies engaged in criminal activity.
"If you steal my nose do I not chase it as though it were running? Monica. Monica! I'll have some of that pizza now."
Wait … wait. There is no Monica. Well, no real Monica. Is my loneliness conjuring mechanical replicas of my wife? That makes sense. But, a mechanical pizza boy, that is a neurotic notion to be sure. How could his Nissan Altima remain on the icy roads? How could he then drive through a field of wildflowers without disturbing a flower petal?
Well, useless speculation. Just enjoy the view.
I've never trusted bunnies. I always thought they were mean spirited. Hiding the eggs … whose idea was that? Theirs no doubt. Oh look at all the children groveling and competing for hidden eggs. What fun to make sport of them. Easy for you when hopping comes naturally.
Lightning without thunder, how can I get my bearings without being able to time the separation between the flash and the roar? For all I know, I'm at lightning central soon to burst into flames. Well, I don't think a bunny would go that far. But, they keep twitching their noses, a sure sign of lying.
Well my armadillo will protect me … or … perhaps all that armor should give me pause as to his true intentions. No armor for me. Hmmm, interesting.
He may as well been hit by lightning. He recoiled from the sound of the phone as though it entered his ear and feasted on his brain. It had not rung in over two years. His morning phone call had become a ritual with great angst, but no purpose. No one ever answered. He doubted there was anyone left to answer.
A nasally, electronic voice greeted him, "There is an important matter our office needs to discuss with … James Donnerfield … please call …. "
He hung up. A machine couldn't penetrate the sense of aloneness permeating his being. But, for God's sake, how is such a call possible if there is no one to push a button or type in a computer command. Electronic voices don't activate themselves … or do they? James laughed at the semi-serious tone of his thought.
"I've been the last man on Earth for too long. I'm going bats. Take me to your power center that I may meld with your electronic essence. Ha!"
He laughed and the stuffed armadillo laughed with him in a high pitched but reserved voice. Well, actually it just sits there, collecting dust staring at an interesting spot on the wall. Hmm, that's presumptuous of me. The truth is, I find the spot interesting. I can't honestly speak for the armadillo, but I have my suspicions.
The music to the old sitcom "Bewitched" rang throughout the room.
Gotta stall for time. It could be anything at the door. God! Maybe a mechanical pizza deliveryman.
Must change that doorbell tone …. "Hold on, I'm coming."
Sure, here's your money "pizza delivery man" and a little something for you. Now I'll eat my poison pizza and conveniently die. Ha! That would play right into your mechanical hands.
"Honey, the pizza's here. Do you have any ones for a tip?"
What's this? Another voice. Honey? I must be "honey". Okay, play along. "Sure … ah … sweetums, my wallet's on the mantle." A hologram perhaps ... but for what purpose?
"Sweetums? I'll settle for Monica, Romeo. You kill me. Ha!"
Monica? Romeo? Death by Shakespearean reference! Gotta stay on my toes. Mercy! Mechanical pizza boys, holographic wife … what next?
Ah, but what a view. Perhaps another log on the fire. Yes, a few more sips of whiskey. Oh … disconnect the phone. There, now I can relax and enjoy the day. I love a room with a view.
Are those mountains really purple? They seem more of a dull grey the more I look at them. I need to change that lightbulb; it keeps flickering. Part of the plan to drive me crazy no doubt.
James once again stood by the large picture window. The view was a never-ending kaleidoscope of scenic wonder. Flurries of snow surrounded fluffy bunnies frolicking in the blossoming meadow. A snowman feverishly puffed on a hand carved pipe melting his lips making him look cross as though the meadow was not to his liking. The bunnies eyed his carrot nose as though considering a cunning plot to purloin it. Hunger was a powerful motivator in the meadow.
But, bunnies have reputations to uphold. Little mechanical girls might go haywire if they were to see bunnies engaged in criminal activity.
"If you steal my nose do I not chase it as though it were running? Monica. Monica! I'll have some of that pizza now."
Wait … wait. There is no Monica. Well, no real Monica. Is my loneliness conjuring mechanical replicas of my wife? That makes sense. But, a mechanical pizza boy, that is a neurotic notion to be sure. How could his Nissan Altima remain on the icy roads? How could he then drive through a field of wildflowers without disturbing a flower petal?
Well, useless speculation. Just enjoy the view.
I've never trusted bunnies. I always thought they were mean spirited. Hiding the eggs … whose idea was that? Theirs no doubt. Oh look at all the children groveling and competing for hidden eggs. What fun to make sport of them. Easy for you when hopping comes naturally.
Lightning without thunder, how can I get my bearings without being able to time the separation between the flash and the roar? For all I know, I'm at lightning central soon to burst into flames. Well, I don't think a bunny would go that far. But, they keep twitching their noses, a sure sign of lying.
Well my armadillo will protect me … or … perhaps all that armor should give me pause as to his true intentions. No armor for me. Hmmm, interesting.
 Recognized |
"Bewitched" was a popular television comedy from the sixties. It had memorable theme music.
879 words
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