The Stranger On The Phone Part 9 (Short Story)

 

It was about 3° Celsius outside but she headed to her destination unruffled, although concerned about the passersby in a hurry for their destination and the cars speeding past her.

“Hello Tricia, what’re you doing in Istanbul?” the young man right in front of her said.

She hesitated before she stopped. “I don’t know you,” she said.

“Yes, you don’t know me but I’m one of your fans. My mother wears only the clothes that bear your label.”

“Wow, really?”

“Yes, really.”

“I’m flattered.”

“It’s a fact.”

She smiled, gazing at him. He was handsome, but that was the least on her mind.

He secretly clicked two of his fingers, and a moving Mazda Rx-7 lost control and headed towards them. He pushed her to safety and calculatively jumped against the bonnet of the car, hitting the windscreen and rolling over to the ground.

The car came to an abrupt stop without hurting anyone. So many people besieged the scene. Tricia rushed in tears to meet him; her body was shaking.

 

Copyright © 2016 by Love Talk

  All rights reserved.

The Stranger On The Phone Part 4 (Short Story)

Istanbul had become a business hub 1990. Tricia was among the many Americans that frequent the city for business. She was a beginner in the fashion trade, and she always dreamed of the day her company would become a household name in the world. She had a humble beginning, had had her own share of suffering, and now was determined to grow her business.

She checked into Tilton hotel, hoping to have a quiet night where she could sleep like a baby in spite of her troubled state of mind. The executive room had a stunning decor. She took a fast shower, donned an attractive flowery nightgown, and reclined on the plush bed. The song “If I Give My Heart To You” by Doris Day was playing in the background from the sound system in a corner, and before long she dozed off.

She stood still as she met two men on the doorway at the facade of the hotel on her way out. The two men looked exactly like Jack, the man she met on the plane. She gazed at them in bewilderment unable to move, but within a minute she noticed the head of the one at her left-hand side melt away, and she rushed into the arms of the one at her right-hand. He stabbed her three times on her back. She screamed herself out of the horrible nightmare, held her face in despair afraid that her encounter with the two men had dented her subconscious.

            Who’s jack? Who’s he?

Those statements repeatedly took the place of the lyrics of the song in the background. She dashed towards the sound system and turned it off, breathing helplessly. The well decorated room seemed untidy in her eyes. Her face was everywhere on the wall, and at that point she realized that she might run mad if she didn’t do something about her predicament. She took her phone from her handbag and dialed the number of her mother Jane, sitting down on the bed.

“Hello Tricia.”

“Hi mum.”

 

 

 

Copyright © 2016 by Love Talk

        All rights reserved.

 

 

 

 

The stranger on the phone Part 1 (Short Story)

Tricia met Jack on the plane she boarded to Turkey. She sat next to him, and she didn’t hesitate to give him her telephone number at his request. She enjoyed talking to him and wanted to see him again.

“Can we talk today at 9 pm your time?”

She received the message two days after she arrived in Turkey.

She looked at the name with smiles on her face. She replied instantly in a message, consenting to his request. “I like you, Jack,” she whispered to herself. She could hear the pounding of her heart and the blood flowing in her veins. Why 9 pm? she thought, itching to hear his voice, that voice that almost made her grow wings if only she could fly, soar high in his presence. She had never felt for any man what she had felt for him when she first saw him, and she hoped to see him again before the date she had scheduled for her return to the States. She liked handsome men, and Jack was the perfect definition of whatever that meant to her.

Her phone rang at exactly 9 pm. She was lying tirelessly in bed, waiting to speak with him, itching to know why he wanted to speak with her, or why he had even asked for her number. Her hands were shaking as she held the phone close to her right ear.

“Hello Tricia,” a soft voice came up.

“Hi Jack.”

“Can you see me?”

“It’s not a video call.”

“I can see you.”

She felt a cold chill run down her spine as she wondered what he was talking about, and in confusion glanced at her phone and sat upright with a tinge of fear.

“Did you mean you could see me on your phone?”

“No, I’m standing next to you.”

She flinched backwards unconsciously, screwing her eyes everywhere in the room. Tensed and shaky, she cut the line.

“Don’t be afraid my princess.”

She ran towards the door, and for a moment she forgot it was locked as she tried to force it open. His voice was soft but clear.

“I don’t mean any harm, Tricia.”

“Who are you?” she asked, utterly terrified.

“I’m Jack, the man you met on the plane.”

She banged the door with her hands, shouting for help. Two men Thomas and Henry swiftly came to her rescue, standing by the door on the long quiet corridor.

“Can you open the door?” Thomas asked.

She clicked the key and wrenched the knob as fast as she could, and she rushed out, taking refuge behind them.

“There’s a ghost in my room,” she panted.

Both men looked speechlessly at each other, and walked in with care. She followed them looking behind.  The men searched everywhere, but they did not find anyone.

“There’s no one here, Madam,” Henry said.

“There was someone. I heard his voice.”

“Well, we didn’t find anyone. Do you want us to do anything else for you, madam?”

“Could you wait for a moment? I have to get my belongings.”

“Go ahead, madam. We’re here.”

 

 

          Copyright © 2016 by Love Talk

            All rights reserved.

Some beautiful ones don’t like stain

Tolu liked to associate with good-looking people. He would never consider friendship with anyone whose looks did not appeal to him. He would move around town with his friends to let everyone know that he had lovely people around him. His definition of ugly was ugly, and that heightened his pomposity and his overzealousness in his inclination to love only those that looked lovely.

One day, he went on a jaunt to the woods, with ten of his friends. He was so drunk that he did not see the small muddy pond, hidden beside a brush, and in the next moment he ended up inside.

“Help me,” he cried out. Only his head and hands were visible, and they were completely soiled with mud.

His friends squirmed backwards in anxiety, confused of what to do.

“Help me, please,” he continued, but none of them was ready to make the first move.

“Try and stay afloat while I go call for help,” one of them said. “It’s a dirty pond and we don’t want to get stained.”

“Help me, I’m dying!”

The young man that responded to the call was dazed as he heard the clamour of the voices of the nine people standing by the pond.

“I thought you needed help,” he said to Tolu, “but now I can see that you don’t. If ten people cannot help you, what can one person do? I’m sorry.” He turned and sauntered away.

Tolu’s eyes widened in pain as it dawned on him that he had substituted inward worth for fine outward appearances.

 

Copyright © 2016 by P. A. Owala

          All rights reserved.

The Nonentity!

In Agbaka village, the villagers considered Ikenna a nonentity. Ikenna was a young man in his early twenties. He was always alone because no one especially adults in his community wanted to talk to him. People would make mockery of him whenever he passed by, but he never got tired of trying to make himself happy.

One day, he decided to play with some of the children in his neighborhood, but he hesitated on getting to the playground, afraid that they might chide him for trying to mingle with them. He played with them that day, but he was surprised that some of the adults that saw him did not interrupt the flow.

For the first time, he saw a loophole in a society that had rejected him, reckoning that he could live life to the full by playing with children. The next day, he went to the playground again, but on getting there he realized that there was no one.

He waited for a while but none of the children showed up. He felt sad and decided to go home. On his way home, he met the children in another playground, and he stood for a while, wondering why they left their usual arena. He shrugged off his doubts and sat beside a tree, watching them. He was happier doing that than sitting all to himself at home. Suddenly, one of the children came to meet him.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“I’m here to watch you all. I enjoy your play.”

“Yesterday my parents asked me to stay away from you. Other children were told the same thing too.”

“Was that why you came to play in this field?”

“Yes, but now we need your help. You’re the only adult here and we need someone to organize us. We want to run.”

“Okay, that will be nice.”

He organized the children and they were all happy. The next day, he introduced more games and they felt at home with him.

The news of what he did spread fast in the village. Most of the adults in the land came to the field the next day to confirm what they heard. They were delighted to see him do what they could not.

His life changed for the better from that day.

Even the nonentity has something to offer!

 

Copyright © 2016 by P. A. Owala

All rights reserved.