Six Forty

Just read it. I know the cliche of using dreams is kind of lame. BUT this story happened to me. the only thing off was that i woke around 8 20 in the morning. but that dream hurt me so much. I'm still afraid to read this. I don't want to break dow

 I moaned; it's only 6:40 on a Sunday morning, and I was already up. Water from the bathroom faucet plummeted into the sink. My cousin was also awake. Why on Earth would she be up that early? We didn't start work until 7:30, and the diner was only below us.
 

“Whatever,” I told myself, “it doesn't matter.” I rolled out of bed almost literally until my feet caught me. Trudging to the bathroom door, it opened, and my cousin stepped out. I used the toilet, combed my hair, washed my face, and brushed my teeth. Once I was less out of it, I rummaged through my dresser back in out room, and slipped into some clothes.

 

My cousin stood waiting for me. We headed downstairs to the diner. At 7:05, the diner was rightfully deserted. The two of us walked over to the employee bulletin to check out our day's work. Beside her name, my dad scrawled “waitressing”. By mine, he noted “meet me in the office”.

 

Once I arrived in my father's office he handed me a phone. I cautiously accepted it, stepping outside. I opened the back door, and the frigid winter air smacked me in the face. Sucking it up, I started down a dirt path.
 

“Hello,” I quietly asked, “Hello?” I spoke louder in case the person on the other line could not hear me.

 

“Hello, Kathi,” a familiar voice greeted me. Me eyes widened, and my breath escaped me.
 

“Hi, Papaw,” I replied wearily to my grandpa's voice. I stood there stunned as he began talking. Something wasn't right. This just couldn't be him.
 

“Kathi, I'll talk to you again on Wednesday, the seventh [of March],” Papaw prepared to hang up. My lungs shook, bringing a handful of air back into my system; choking me. Words finally came to me (minutes too late), with tears tumbling after.
 

“Papaw,” I whispered, then shouted into the phone, “Papaw! No! Don't leave me.” I felt my body fold; agony nipped at my heart. The dial-tone screamed at me. I cried out, but before I could fully let myself collapse, I hung up, and headed back to my dad's office.

 

  

 

Unfortunately, the diner just opened. People stood at every corner. I had to hide my agony. I spotted my mother out of the corner of my eye, but I kept going. She wouldn't be pleased if she saw me weak like this. I wasn't allowed too long to mourn over the loss.

I beelined to the office, bumping into one of our waitresses. I muttered a quick hello. My father's office was empty. I groaned. I turned my head and noticed a man by empty tables and a flower pot. I quickly ran to him with sudden hatred against my own father. I tossed the phone into the flowerpot-why, I don't know- and confronted him.
 

“What kind of sick joke is this!” I shouted at him. His features tight, he said nothing.

 

I shouted at him again, “Why did you do that? How was it Papaw's voice on the other end of the phone? How?”

 

His face crumbled slightly, a tear sprang from his eyes...

 

Softening my anger, I whispered, “How did that phone conversation work when he's dead?” By then, the question was just sheer curiosity.

 

Without the strength to say a word, he pulled me into a tight bear hug. The embrace made me melt, tears plummeted harder than they ever had before.

 

“How did you do that, Daddy? How did you make that work?
 

“Well...”My heartbroken father started.

 

The sharp buzzes of the alarm clock shattered the nightmare. Tears streamed down my face. This is the third time this month I've woken up with tears meeting my pillow. I gingerly wiped them away, checking to see if I've disturbed my cousin. Luckily, I hadn't. Carefully, I push myself out of bed and into the bathroom. I take a glimpse at the clock.

 

6:40 a.m.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

Tear it to pieces!


[note to self: 8:40]
But, there should be less verb issues than normal. I hand wrote it, then typed it. I noticed like 100 and 2 errors. ><

Reviews

[Clarisse Nanoit]

P.S. You did the dream sequence well. As long as you did justice to the story you have to tell, you have no reason to change it. It didn't make me angry as a reader, because you had the detail about someone who'd passed away talking to you on the phone. If your reader expects this to be a real sequence of events after that, you need new readers. ;)

[Clarisse Nanoit]

our* room
How did you make that work?" (you forgot close quotes)
"Well..." My (you forgot a space)
I really love this. The only thing I would really change is the thing about throwing the phone into the flower pot. While it was a dream, meaning there's no real explanation for why you did it, I think it would be better if you said you dropped the phone and it landed there or something, just because that's the only detail that doesn't seem realistic, even if there is plenty that seems impossible. Does that make sense? I enjoyed reading. Idk how I missed this piece before!

[No one]

I read the story. Here is what I have to say.
1. Any professor will tell you that a story about a dream will make any reader angry. They'll feel like you wasted their time. The dream sequence is the easiest way to add a twist to a story's end and should always be avoided!
2. You must fix this sentence: Trudging to the bathroom door, it opened, and my cousin stepped out. Why? you ask. I'll tell you why. A participial phrase at the beginning of a sentence must refer to the grammatical subject. In this sentence the subject is it, the bathroom door. In the participial phrase (i assume) the main character is the subject- Trudging to the bathroom door... Is the bathroom door (the subject of the sentence doing the trudging?)
3. Maybe this is correct after all. ---> I opened the back door, and the frigid winter air smacked me in the face. Sucking it up, I started down a dirt path.

[Travis Lawrence]

Actually this is really good. You capture dreams so well, their spontaneity, and especially the phone call. Isn't it funny how in our dreams, even, what we thrive for still quickly alludes us? That's how it always seems to happen in mine. Great that you bring that up but so subtly that you don't even have to say it.

And your exposition is nice, at one point I thought: "wait a minute, what kind of phone conversation is that? It was two sentances!" This made me wonder what you were up to, then it all hit me, that she was groggy and it is probably a dream between the snooze button. You really made me think about plot, intent, etc, with the way you organized the story, and that's what good fiction does.

ERROR: "he pulled my into a tight bear hug" -- me, right?

I didn't look through it with a comb, but I'm normally a close reader even the first time, and this was all I saw. Great story, seriously I really like it a lot!

-Travis

[Jamie Fantasy]

That's so sad! I hate dreams that are that real. If they're bad, then you can't forget it all day. If they're good, you wish you hadn't woken up!

Very well written and great concept. I love what you did with this idea.

[.]

WoW!!! Very intense!!! This so reminds me of a true story that happened, I believe, down south in Georgia. It's really a ghost story. It was about a little girl who seen an older man who claimed only to be "Mr. Gordy." This really reminded me of that story hehe. But, really awesome piece. Great job!

Mikey

[Brenda Sue]

Wow, I love this story and the ending is perfect. I couldn't stop reading, it is so great.

This one line is missing something, "She wouldn't be pleased if she was my weak like this." It is the only thing I saw as I read through the first time.

Wonderfully penned. Great job.