THE PHONE CALL
By Mark Slade
Linda was cooking in the kitchen when the phone rang. She was preparing Nick's supper and knew he would be home soon. The phone on the wall next to the microwave rang several times, then stopped. Her hands were full with cans of diced tomatoes, pouring them to mix with the corn in the bowl. Goulash. Not really Nick's favorite, but he'd eat it.
The phone rang again.
“For heavens sake,” Linda slammed the empty cans down on the counter. She went to the phone, noticed the caller I.D. was not registering the call. “That's weird.” The numbers were speeding along on the caller I.D.
But it kept ringing.
And Linda already had a headache. The stupid phone was not helping any. She growled at it, cursed it. Finally, Linda answered.
“Yes! Yes, what is it?” She said.
The line was static, eerie loneliness. Silence. Then the crackle of a distant voice.
“The sky is gray,” A man was on the other end. “I'm feeling blue.”
Linda sighed. “Look, I don't know who you are, and I want you to know this is not funny. I'm going to hang up. If you call again, I will report you for harassment!”
“You...really shouldn't....you don't understand. Pale blue eyes....make you mad. Life is the same in stereo....”
“This is some dumb college prank. I know it is.” Linda told the man.
“Have you ever considered that we aren't the only lifeforms here on earth?” The man said. Still sounding like an old Victrola record.
“No....I...haven't. At all,” Linda's voice faltered. There was panic in her, and the man must have recognized it. He sounded less nervous and more excited now.
“Two thousand years ago my people came here. We built civilizations and cities far superior to yours. But humankind would not tolerate a more efficient being than them. So they destroyed us. Tore down our cities. Turned this world into a wasteland.
“But they didn't destroy us all. I'm still here. Fighting the good fight. I will destroy all humans from the inside out. I will infiltrate them all!”
Linda slammed the receiver down. She fell to the floor of her kitchen and wept.
She heard the front door open and close, footsteps across the living room. She stood, controlling her sobs.
“Honey?” It was Nick.
Linda wiped the tears from her eyes with a hand.
“Hey? It looks like you didn't take your medication like the doctor told you too.”
Linda didn't answer. She waited patiently for him in silence.
“Where are you?” he called out. “Linda?”
Linda took the butcher knife from the counter where she'd been slicing onions. She held it behind her back. “I'm in the kitchen, Nick.” She said. “Come in here for a minute, will ya? I have something to show you.”
- - -
My name is Mark Slade. I live in Williamsburg, Va with my wife and daughter. I have a story published on Burial Day. http://www.burialday.com/short-fiction/
By Mark Slade
Linda was cooking in the kitchen when the phone rang. She was preparing Nick's supper and knew he would be home soon. The phone on the wall next to the microwave rang several times, then stopped. Her hands were full with cans of diced tomatoes, pouring them to mix with the corn in the bowl. Goulash. Not really Nick's favorite, but he'd eat it.
The phone rang again.
“For heavens sake,” Linda slammed the empty cans down on the counter. She went to the phone, noticed the caller I.D. was not registering the call. “That's weird.” The numbers were speeding along on the caller I.D.
But it kept ringing.
And Linda already had a headache. The stupid phone was not helping any. She growled at it, cursed it. Finally, Linda answered.
“Yes! Yes, what is it?” She said.
The line was static, eerie loneliness. Silence. Then the crackle of a distant voice.
“The sky is gray,” A man was on the other end. “I'm feeling blue.”
Linda sighed. “Look, I don't know who you are, and I want you to know this is not funny. I'm going to hang up. If you call again, I will report you for harassment!”
“You...really shouldn't....you don't understand. Pale blue eyes....make you mad. Life is the same in stereo....”
“This is some dumb college prank. I know it is.” Linda told the man.
“Have you ever considered that we aren't the only lifeforms here on earth?” The man said. Still sounding like an old Victrola record.
“No....I...haven't. At all,” Linda's voice faltered. There was panic in her, and the man must have recognized it. He sounded less nervous and more excited now.
“Two thousand years ago my people came here. We built civilizations and cities far superior to yours. But humankind would not tolerate a more efficient being than them. So they destroyed us. Tore down our cities. Turned this world into a wasteland.
“But they didn't destroy us all. I'm still here. Fighting the good fight. I will destroy all humans from the inside out. I will infiltrate them all!”
Linda slammed the receiver down. She fell to the floor of her kitchen and wept.
She heard the front door open and close, footsteps across the living room. She stood, controlling her sobs.
“Honey?” It was Nick.
Linda wiped the tears from her eyes with a hand.
“Hey? It looks like you didn't take your medication like the doctor told you too.”
Linda didn't answer. She waited patiently for him in silence.
“Where are you?” he called out. “Linda?”
Linda took the butcher knife from the counter where she'd been slicing onions. She held it behind her back. “I'm in the kitchen, Nick.” She said. “Come in here for a minute, will ya? I have something to show you.”
- - -
My name is Mark Slade. I live in Williamsburg, Va with my wife and daughter. I have a story published on Burial Day. http://www.burialday.com/short-fiction/
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Love that ending.