Call Me (A Very Short Story)
This short of mine was written for a project at my local writing group. The brief was to write a story in no more than a 1000 words. It was one of the hardest tasks I've ever done.
Call Me
"Come again?" said Dylan blurry eyed as he turned to face his alarm clock. It was exactly twelve am. He sat upright as the midnight caller spoke again.
"Call Me."
"What are you talking about?" snapped Dylan. "Who the hell are you?"
The caller sighed. "I'm here looking at your phone number. It says Call Me 07734 909341 For A Good Time."
Dylan was half tempted to end the call but he was more interested to know where the caller had got his number from.
"May I ask how you've come across my number?" enquired Dylan.
The caller let off a dry laugh. "Why its scribbled in blue biro on the back of a cubicle door in a public toilets."
"Which public toilets would those be?" Dylan had no idea how his number had gotten there. He knew fine well he hadn't done it.
"The one on Compton Heath. Do you often forget where you advertise your business, Call Me?"
"My names not Call Me," growled Dylan.
"Really," chuckled the caller. "Then you should have made that pretty clear."
Then something went off inside Dylan's mind. It was as if his memory had sent off a firework display of realisation.
"How old does the writing look?" said Dylan.
The midnight caller took a moment of judgement. "It's not recent if that's what you mean."
Dylan grinned and shook his head. A vidid memory of a fourteen year old Dylan and his two best friends Chalky and Spenny came flooding back to him. It was the last week of school holidays and the month of August had been kind. The sun had shone consistently and the skies had been a tranquil blue. Even now Dylan realised he hadn't seen a summer like it since.
The memory was the one where they all shared their first bottle of White Lighting Cider. It topped off a great day of playing football an getting up to minor mischief.Just as the sun was dipping beyond the horizon they found a large oak tree on the Heath and then drank the bottle of strong cider between them.
Dylan laughed to himself as he could see the three of them stumbling into the men's toilets on Compton Heath in drunken stupidity, before they scrawled derogatory remarks about on another on the several cubicle doors. It seems after the prevailing years it was Chalky's remark about young Dylan giving you a good time that had outlasted them all.
"I understand now," assured Dylan. "It was some stupid stuff I got up to when I was kid. Thanks for the call but I really need to catch up on some beauty sleep."
"That's not how it works," said the caller. "You have to give me a good time."
"Go screw yourself!" hollered Dylan as he ended the call.
Dylan lay back down and drew the bedcovers around his shoulders. He closed his eyes and as the motions of slumber was about to consume him the phone in the hallway began to ring. Dylan let the phone ring for a few moments before he tossed aside the covers and hurriedly made his way down stairs in pitch darkness.
Dylan knew that phone calls as this time of night weren't good. The last time he got called at this time of night was by his mum informing him that his Grandad Farlan had died.
"Hello," said Dylan as his voice croaked with tiredness.
"Now that wasn't very nice was it?" replied the midnight caller.
"What the hell! How did you get this number?"
"I find it quite empowering what you can do with social media these days." The caller then took a deep sharp breath. "Don't you think,Dylan?"
Dylan felt his throat tighten as his eyes dilated with fear. As his stomach ached with dread he knew this caller wasn't playing a prank.
"Tell me what you want?" said Dylan
"I want you to show me a good time?"
"That was just a silly thing that James wrote when we were drunk nearly ten years ago."
"James Chalkson," laughed the caller. "Now he was a screamer. Are you a screamer Call Me?"
Dylan's stomach dropped like a lead ballon. "What do you mean Chalky was a screamer?"
"Now,now," tutted the caller. "You have a masters degree in Psychology. Surely your not that stupid. Are you?"
Dylan's attention was quickly drawn towards the hallway front door as the porch light flicked on. It only ever came on when someday was walking up the path. Dylan's heart raced as he expected a silhouetted to appear at the door. But the light soon went off and no knocking came.
"Aren't you going to ask about Danny Spencer or Spenny 'sucks dick' as I believe you wrote." Dylan's blood ran cold as the caller continued to talk. "I tell you something Call Me it took him some persuading to do."
Dylan was left speechless and all he could do was breath heavily down the phone. He then lashed out and slammed the phone down on its hook. He took a step back from the phone and began to walk backwards towards the stairs. He placed one foot on the first step when the hallway phone began ringing again. Dylan wasn't going to answer it and as he foot landed on the second step he heard his mobile ringing in his bedroom. The porch light then began to flick on and off repeatedly. Before long the ringing and the lights were in perfect unison.
Then after a few pulsating moments the mobile in bedroom seized ringing and then seconds later so did the hallway phone. The porch light finished its spectacle and the hallway was plunged back into darkness. Dylan's heart thundered against his chest and his palms were drenched with sweat as his hands shook. Then his entire body went rigid when he felt someone place their lips against his ear.
"Show me a good time," whispered the caller.
Call Me
"Come again?" said Dylan blurry eyed as he turned to face his alarm clock. It was exactly twelve am. He sat upright as the midnight caller spoke again.
"Call Me."
"What are you talking about?" snapped Dylan. "Who the hell are you?"
The caller sighed. "I'm here looking at your phone number. It says Call Me 07734 909341 For A Good Time."
Dylan was half tempted to end the call but he was more interested to know where the caller had got his number from.
"May I ask how you've come across my number?" enquired Dylan.
The caller let off a dry laugh. "Why its scribbled in blue biro on the back of a cubicle door in a public toilets."
"Which public toilets would those be?" Dylan had no idea how his number had gotten there. He knew fine well he hadn't done it.
"The one on Compton Heath. Do you often forget where you advertise your business, Call Me?"
"My names not Call Me," growled Dylan.
"Really," chuckled the caller. "Then you should have made that pretty clear."
Then something went off inside Dylan's mind. It was as if his memory had sent off a firework display of realisation.
"How old does the writing look?" said Dylan.
The midnight caller took a moment of judgement. "It's not recent if that's what you mean."
Dylan grinned and shook his head. A vidid memory of a fourteen year old Dylan and his two best friends Chalky and Spenny came flooding back to him. It was the last week of school holidays and the month of August had been kind. The sun had shone consistently and the skies had been a tranquil blue. Even now Dylan realised he hadn't seen a summer like it since.
The memory was the one where they all shared their first bottle of White Lighting Cider. It topped off a great day of playing football an getting up to minor mischief.Just as the sun was dipping beyond the horizon they found a large oak tree on the Heath and then drank the bottle of strong cider between them.
Dylan laughed to himself as he could see the three of them stumbling into the men's toilets on Compton Heath in drunken stupidity, before they scrawled derogatory remarks about on another on the several cubicle doors. It seems after the prevailing years it was Chalky's remark about young Dylan giving you a good time that had outlasted them all.
"I understand now," assured Dylan. "It was some stupid stuff I got up to when I was kid. Thanks for the call but I really need to catch up on some beauty sleep."
"That's not how it works," said the caller. "You have to give me a good time."
"Go screw yourself!" hollered Dylan as he ended the call.
Dylan lay back down and drew the bedcovers around his shoulders. He closed his eyes and as the motions of slumber was about to consume him the phone in the hallway began to ring. Dylan let the phone ring for a few moments before he tossed aside the covers and hurriedly made his way down stairs in pitch darkness.
Dylan knew that phone calls as this time of night weren't good. The last time he got called at this time of night was by his mum informing him that his Grandad Farlan had died.
"Hello," said Dylan as his voice croaked with tiredness.
"Now that wasn't very nice was it?" replied the midnight caller.
"What the hell! How did you get this number?"
"I find it quite empowering what you can do with social media these days." The caller then took a deep sharp breath. "Don't you think,Dylan?"
Dylan felt his throat tighten as his eyes dilated with fear. As his stomach ached with dread he knew this caller wasn't playing a prank.
"Tell me what you want?" said Dylan
"I want you to show me a good time?"
"That was just a silly thing that James wrote when we were drunk nearly ten years ago."
"James Chalkson," laughed the caller. "Now he was a screamer. Are you a screamer Call Me?"
Dylan's stomach dropped like a lead ballon. "What do you mean Chalky was a screamer?"
"Now,now," tutted the caller. "You have a masters degree in Psychology. Surely your not that stupid. Are you?"
Dylan's attention was quickly drawn towards the hallway front door as the porch light flicked on. It only ever came on when someday was walking up the path. Dylan's heart raced as he expected a silhouetted to appear at the door. But the light soon went off and no knocking came.
"Aren't you going to ask about Danny Spencer or Spenny 'sucks dick' as I believe you wrote." Dylan's blood ran cold as the caller continued to talk. "I tell you something Call Me it took him some persuading to do."
Dylan was left speechless and all he could do was breath heavily down the phone. He then lashed out and slammed the phone down on its hook. He took a step back from the phone and began to walk backwards towards the stairs. He placed one foot on the first step when the hallway phone began ringing again. Dylan wasn't going to answer it and as he foot landed on the second step he heard his mobile ringing in his bedroom. The porch light then began to flick on and off repeatedly. Before long the ringing and the lights were in perfect unison.
Then after a few pulsating moments the mobile in bedroom seized ringing and then seconds later so did the hallway phone. The porch light finished its spectacle and the hallway was plunged back into darkness. Dylan's heart thundered against his chest and his palms were drenched with sweat as his hands shook. Then his entire body went rigid when he felt someone place their lips against his ear.
"Show me a good time," whispered the caller.
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