telephone - a short story written by my 7th grade daughter
TRANSCRIPT
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Telephone
I don’t think they know what I truly am. Crazy? No. A threat? Of course not. Judge me not I
am nothing but a simplistic man with a love for simplistic things. But I will tell you why they judge
me.
The sky, as I recall, matched my feelings, curious. All of the stars seemed to shine brighter, as
if in an effort to know more about the earth. The minuscule but cozy room I was working in, was
illuminated by a light. That light always gave me an ocean sea blue inspiration. It was the rich,
chocolate brown wood table I was working on. On top of the table was my sweet mint telephone
and a vast sea if tools.
Again and again I turned the rotary dial on the phone, listening for the clicks it always made.
My curiosity began to transform into anger, for the phones clicks had lost it’s edge. No longer did
they have the passion and pop of fireworks, but the dull pitter-‐patter of mournful rain. Like a
shaken bottle of soda pop I held my frustration in and decided to sleep on it.
My daily walk started my day. And I couldn’t help but admire the gracious morning,
especially the sky. Tiered blues, golden yellows, and ripe oranges, surrounded the sun as if on a
leash. A soul-‐awakening orange caught my eye. That was the color I longed for, wanted to hunt for.
So I did.
Every day I walked to a few houses and, ever so carefully, peer into every window. My eyes
would quickly spot a rotary telephone. One phone, I remember, was a hideous1 green. The whole
phone was revolting1. My senses forced me to move on.
Night rolled around and I found myself returning to an eerie2 home, even the driveway had
a strange2 essence to it. My nimble fingers picked the door’s lock easily. As I entered the spooky2 home a grotesque3 figure approached me, it’s silhouette misshapen3. I disregarded it. Swiftly,
almost gracefully, I stole the phone, making it my own. The figure blocked me from escaping. Its
shape finally became clear as the dim light from the door opening seeped into the scene like oil. My
heart slowed when I realized the figure was only a cat. Relief fully washed over me when I made it
back into the security of the streetlights.
I hope this phone is great, I thought as I walked home. Well perfection takes time to find, I
debated, what if I never find it? Oh yes I will! But what if I only get a fraction of my life with it? “I’m
just being paranoid.” I muttered.
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After many other steals in the silent and still night I was in bed again. Another night of
corked frustration for I didn’t find the perfect telephone.
I had gone on my daily pursuit through my neighborhood but found nothing. And the sunset
was as angered as me. Intense reds were dominant in the sky, so the trees seemed to dance in it.
The neighborhood was almost like a ballroom, but I was too mad to dance. I checked one more
house and there it was, a phone that made my senses tingle. Making my cha-‐cha with the trees. With
amazing patience I waited for night to roll around.
Tumblers ticking, gentle feet tiptoeing I had entered the home in darkness. The stopping of a
stream of electricity you can only hear in utter silence; a slip off the foot and… Bam! Someone was
woken. I bolted for where I thought the door was, but I was confused where in the house I was. He
saw me, ran after me, then blocked my exit. “This is preposterous4!” The man shouted about the
matter. Like a composite volcano I blew, I hit him with the phone. Bam! How dare he think this is
laughable4! I ask myself. His body falls and lay motionless. My tremulous5 body sprints away from
his frightening6, macabre6 body. Every part of me was quivering6 as I ran, the shakiness6 caused
me stumble often. I glanced over to the telephone as I sprint home, my soul became mesmerized by
it and so did my body. My pace slowed then stopped. From above I was only a black and soul-‐
awakening orange dot. The rest of it was a blur, crazy, murder, the bronze taste of fear and
confusion, all clouded my mind. This sensory overload caused my mind to go blank.
A mad house is what they say I am in. Me? Mad? Ha! I am just a simplistic man with a love for
simplistic things.