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May 23, 2007


They were the very last person I wanted to hear on the other end of the phone ...

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"Mickey's got the explosives and I got the blueprints, boss. First Federal won't know what hit 'em."

I remain silent, listening to the faint buzzing on the line and mentally curse Bobby. "You still there boss?"

I search my memory for what I've said during this call. Bobby's eager: a quick study but sloppy. In two minutes he had given specifics and names to the suit listening in. I hate to toss him to the sharks like this, but I won't let him bring down my empire.

"You have the wrong number young man," I say, then I hang up.

Posted by: Virginia: Damn Patriot Act! at May 23, 2007 7:33 AM · Permalink

He had picked on me, cheated me, stolen from me, emotionally abused me, caused me physical pain – for years.

Yet, even before the phone rang, I felt his mind bending presence. My wife checked the callerID, she shook her head as I took the phone, and she walked away.

Ring 3 – how was I to speak to him? What tone should I use?

Ring 4 – why would he call? We haven’t spoken…

Ring 5 – must I answer...?


“Hello brother, I know you’re still upset, but I want you to know, I forgive you for that.”

“You’re a jackass!”


Posted by: kipp at May 23, 2007 6:32 PM · Permalink

It was pitch-black, curtains drawn against the sun's glare when the phone rang.

He ignored it.

A few minutes more after 10 years gone.

In the darkness, his guitar sat atop the table, a place of honor.

The phone fell silent and he sat up. Had it been someone else?

It rang again. This time, he answered.

"Was afraid you were ducking me, Robert."

"I'm here, Crossroads Motel."

"Ten years."


"They what you wanted? Fame, wealth, women?"

"They were. I'll miss the guitar."

"Bring it, son."

A knock at the door.

He got up and let the Devil inside.

Posted by: Beau at May 23, 2007 7:20 PM · Permalink

When we were kids, he stole my ten dollar haircut money after it fell from my pocket. He said, "Finders Keepers!" and bought candy. He’d been stealing from me ever since.

I'd seen the LOST posters. I found what he was looking for. I left a message and waited by the phone.

I let the phone ring. I hated the idea of talking to him. I had to find the courage. I answered and said the words as fast as I could.

"I found your daughter. But you can't have her back. Finders Keepers."

I hung up, and left town.

Posted by: f. chong rutherford at May 23, 2007 7:58 PM · Permalink

There had been too much. Too much, pain too much sadness, all too much

“Jane” he said
“No “
“NO ‘
“Janey, baby ... “
“No … “I said but smaller this time.
“I’m sorry “
“I don’t care “
“I never meant to hurt you, “
“Good Job, “I said and hoped that it hurt.
What’s next I wonder …?
“She means nothing to me,” He says . How Original .
“Good, I’m glad I’m worth that. “ I say and try to laugh. It sounds broken. Jagged.
“Janey,” He says
“No “
Then nothing
Just breathing
I think that it's over

“I love you “

“Come over, I’ll be downstairs. “

Posted by: Brie at May 23, 2007 8:40 PM · Permalink

Gods, people, it's good to see you all!

Posted by: Stacy at May 23, 2007 9:55 PM · Permalink

Check before you post!