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Writing > Users > joonmymoon > 2010

Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Dial Tone- A Life Story

by joonmymoon

IMPORTANT NOTE: This is a piece of a longer writing project. You can view the entire project here: Dial Tone- A Life Story

The following is a piece of writing submitted by joonmymoon on February 25, 2010

Dial Tone- A Life Story (part 4)

She was humming that song, the one the goes doo da da da doo da da di da. The one her dad used to sing to her when everything in living color turns black and white. The song she danced to during her first recital. The one she sang for him while he was in the hospital.

The last moments of her father’s life were playing in her head as she hummed his song. Her tears were again falling down her face, in drops though, not in streams.

She barely had any sleep and again, her mother was calling. And again, June just listened as her mother left a message.

“June, I am disappointed. None of your brothers want to move in with me. You don’t want to move in with me. You all only call me when you need something from me…”

“That’s not true.”

“…You all would rather bask in your father’s memory than be with the parent who’s alive and feeding you…”

“You don’t feed any of us.”

“….I expected so much from you. I am telling your grandparents. About you especially. Such a brat, you are daddy’s little girl no more. You have no one else but me. And how you turned out, your father would be very disappointed.”

“No he won’t. No he won’t.”

Tears, well, she ran out of them by now.

Her mother’s message was stuck in her head the whole morning drive to the office. She never wanted to be a disappointment to her father and though she knows her mother is wrong, she can’t help but believe her. So as she walked to Kathy’s desk, she feared maybe her articles weren’t good enough, maybe they sensed her anger yesterday and that Kathy would take her job away.

Kathy pulled out the piece of paper she found in between June’s articles. She looked at June with such a vague expression in her face, possibly out of disbelief that such a seemingly dull person could write what’s in the piece of paper in her hands.

In truth, the paper doesn’t hold much, it doesn’t mean much. It contains barely a thought, very mysteriously written, with an odd combination of words.

“Did you write this June?”

“I have no idea how it got here.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Yes, I wrote it.”

“I found it in between the articles on Parker’s desk. And obviously, you didn’t mean to send it in. Not written in a grocery receipt at least.”

“No. I didn’t.”

Kathy pulled her hand away as June attempted to grab a hold of the paper. June was baffled, distraught, perhaps. She hadn’t had anyone read her work, not her real work.

“What does it mean?”

“Oh. Well, for those who have a restless mind, every little thing has an effect. Much like the simple pull of the moon causes different tides.”

“To be honest with you, I knew what it meant. But I thought if you’d hear yourself say it so simply and put it right next to how you wrote it, you’d realize that you are creative enough to write pieces for us, pieces that you want to write.”

“But Parker…”

“You will follow what I say to you. You will give me the articles I ask of you. Give all of Parker’s tasks before the deadline and come to me for my tasks, understood?”

“Yes Kathy, of course.”

“Good. Now go before he sees you and wonders why you’re here.”

In such a long time, this was the first time June ever felt a real feeling of joy come out of her. It was like the time her Kindergarten teacher told her she had the best drawing of an apple in the whole class and she took home a big golden star sticker that her father put in his work binder. If only her father was still around.

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