A piercing sound grew louder as I slowly gained consciousness. Realising where it was coming from, I glanced at the stupid phone responsible for awakening me. Who the hell was phoning me at this time in the morning? Picking up the ringing object, I glanced at the clock hanging on the cream wall. 8:40am. Shit, I was late. Work started at 9am. I sighed. Whoever was making me even later better have a damn good reason. I hit the answer button. "Yo." I mumbled into the speaker. I recognised my step-mother's annoyingly highpitched voice screeching through the phone. "Robert James! That is no way to answer the phone! Next time I expect to be hearing a nice, 'hello, Robert speaking', none of this 'ya' nonsense-" By this stage I had placed the phone next to my half-finished bio report on the desk. I had no intention of listening to her lecturing. She could try what she wanted, but she'd never replace my mum like she desperately seemed to be trying to accomplish. I was nineteen anyway, not much she could do. She couldn't even say 'yo' without sounding like a retard. Hell, she didn't even take the time to notice that noone called me by my full name. I was known as Rob to practically everyone apart from her. Fully clothed in my wrinkled uniform, I grabbed the phone, rushing for the door. "Later's Ax!" I called over my shoulder to my roommate Axel, not giving a shit if he heard me or not. I was already running late. "I'll be back after work." I said, slamming the door behind me. As I rushed down the dull dormitry halls of Greenville college, I wearily raised the phone back up to my ear. Not surprisingly, the screech-master was still at it. Before she could continue further on whatever the hell she was on about, I interrupted. "Du... ... middle of paper ... ...es. Realising I had zoned out again, stopped in the middle of the shop, whilst balancing 5 coffees on a tray, I looked over to see some customers glaring impatiently at me. Sheesh, calm your farms, it's only coffee. Not wishing to get any closer to those stuck up looking customers, I swivelled around again and headed straight back to the kitchen. I threw the orders back on the bench and slapped Cade round the shoulder, "Tell the boss I'm sick won't ya? " He looked at me doubtfully. "Cough, cough?" I half heartedly faked illness. "Whatever dude, " He eventually gave in, "But you know, you owe me now, right?" "Anything you want mate." I honestly would have agreed to anything. At that moment I just needed to get out of that place. As soon as I got back to the dorms, I was planning on grabbing Axel and going on one of our not so legal adventures together.
The Chief's face shifted in thought processing my concern, before suddenly coming to a realization, "Oh, right you are my boy!" He said enthusiastically "Wait just a moment !" With that he rushed over to his desk, and began digging around while I and Henry shared an uncomfortable
who was just getting ready to head out with some friends. “Little Red!” her mother called.
Although the only opinion of the narrator in “Telephone Call” is presented by the narrator herself, much can be told about her character from what she says and how she holds her monologue. As a person, she seems to be very high-strung, using repetition like “Please God. Please, please, please,” (15) and other variations of that phrase often throughout the story. Her word choice is very desperate, and repeating the phrase over and over creates a feeling of anxiety that the reader associates with her personality, not necessarily her situation. Overall, the narrator’s concern seems petty, but she makes it out to be a very tense, urgent problem. Saying “[a]nd he said he’d telephone me. He didn’t have to say that. I didn’t ask him to,” (15) paints her as insecure. She overanalyzes every interaction and second guesses
So, I started my own personal fight against her dishonesty. When I answered the phone and it was someone my mother didn't want to talk to, I said, "Louise, mom is here, but she doesn't want to talk to you.
voice till this day say, “Heather, what’s the matter?” I remember feeling upset and not knowing
It was a cold, dark morning when the phone rang. It was boisterously loud and the clock read six o'clock. The deafening noise jolted us again, and there was only one way to make it stop. Chris picked up the phone and in a tired, drowsy voice, answered, "Hello."
order to take attendance. Dread crept over me as I waited for my turn. Soon, a
I woke up to the pungent smell of hospital disinfect, invading my nostrils. The room was silent apart from my heavy breathing and the beep beep sound you often hear in hospitals that indicates you're alive. I slowly opened my eyes, squinting in attempt to sharpen the blurred images before me. I glanced around and took in the deserted, blue and white colour schemed hospital bedroom. How long have I been here? I shut my eyes, trying to remember what had exactly happened. Then it all hits me with a bang. The memory of it all starts to occupy my thoughts.
The voice on the other end he didn’t recognize. "Somethin’ awful happened to Sally. Better git over there quick," and hung up.
For my oral history I decided to interview my mother. My mom’s life is filled with so many interesting stories and they always take me to another place. I chose her because I wanted to more, I wanted to see if my mother was more like me when I was younger. Mother was a straight A student in high school and involved in many clubs. She was born and bred in Cleveland, she grew up in a different and exciting time; it was the eighties. Here is my mom in not so many words :
The shrill cries of my alarm echo across vermilion painted walls, stirring my consciousness into an aware state. It is precisely eight o’clock on a warm summer Monday; the distant cries of mockingbirds can be heard above the soft whirring of cars passing our genteel residential street. My ears scan the house; it is quiet – barely a sound other than the tinkling of tags as our pets navigate the living room. The still morning air brought realization, with no children running around Mother must have already left for work. Never leaving my lax position I stretch and sigh, it is nice to not have to baby-sit my sister’s kids – my nieces and nephew – but I do miss the mornings where my mother would still kiss me goodbye.
The sky, mid-afternoon, a beautiful canvas graced with sky blues and pure milky whites. The blue in the depths beyond and the smooth, rounded, sugary sweet clouds in the foreground; February mornings were made to be like this. Stained white wooden porches, green plastic lawn and garden chairs and a yellow butterfly dancing above the steamy urban pavement with an invisible partner to a made up song.
“Whatever,” I continued “I’m late for class. Forget about the plans going to be library at lunch” getting out of my car and slamming the door so I could hear the bleep noise to lock.
"Thanks, but for the last time," I said, trying not to sound ungrateful. "I honestly do not need to see a therapist."
It was late summer. The weather was gradually changing to autumn, which was noticeably seen on the leaves that were starting to turn orange. The sun was out, but it wasn’t too hot or too cold outside. In fact, it was actually soothing; the cold wind blowing, paired with the warm sun shining above.