Ms. Cellophane

March 18, 2013 at 3:56 am 2 comments

Three Minute Fiction – Round 10

Challenge: Leave A Message After The Beep

It’s Round 10 of Three-Minute Fiction, the short story contest from weekends on All Things Considered. Here’s the premise: Write a piece of original fiction that can be read in about three minutes (no more than 600 words).Our judge for this round is author Mona Simpson, whose most recent book is My Hollywood. She most recently won a Literature Award from the American Academy of Arts and Letters, among other prizes. Here’s her twist for Round 10:Write a story in the form of a voice-mail message.”It doesn’t have to be crazy, but it could be crazy. By nature, first person — basically, a soliloquy or a monologue,” she tells Guy Raz, contest curator and host of NPR’s TED Radio Hour.

“It could start out, ‘Hey, it’s me, I’m glad you didn’t pick up,’ or it could start out, ‘You don’t know me, but …” It could be any number of dramatic scenarios which will unwind in the three minutes,” she says.

My submission:

Hey it’s me – you, I should say. Anywhoooo… I just met this guy. Well I don’t know if I could say met him so much as run into him. Or him into me, to be more exact. I was smoking outside, u know, “the building”. And he was going to the recycling-bin, I think, had too many card-board boxes in his arm. He almost hesitated before stopping. Like he wasn’t sure if he should be doing it or let it go, I don’t know. He’s this tall—white guy—I thought he was gonne ask me to bum him. Then he said “you are too beautiful and too young to be smoking”. Just like that! I mean I know he is white so he probably doesn’t have a clue what women from my part of the world look like. Or what is considered “beautiful”. He would have no clue why I was smoking out there, on a Saturday night, and not go partying like everybody else. He wouldn’t know why I crave for a phone call, or a text.. and how I feel cheated for signing that contract with my phone company. And why I call you—myself—right now. But it felt good, you know? It felt —. Anywho, I said–I was quick too—I said “I’m not as young as I look, but thank you”. He said something like “well then, you should try to hold on to it”. Or something. Didn’t come back this way, for some reason. I know! I know it’s pathetic, being all flushed because a guy told me I was pretty. But it felt so good! So good!! Having actually somebody to stop and talk to me; and not to ask for the “wares” section or to point out the price on a shoe is missing so can I have it re-priced – regardless of our “no tag no sale” policy. Would you have believed that the loneliness you craved for, the freedom to be your own person.. all that stifling non-privacy was something you’d miss? That you, of all people, would go through anxiety attacks from going through days and days of not talking to anybody save for—work stuff?! Didn’t you think when you came to America.. land of the free blah blah.. you’d get to live your dream?!Be your own person? Sing in the rain—etcetera?! Not this—–scardy cat who has become afraid of her own shadow?! Who is suddenly somebody with an accent and whose education or skills are not transferrable?! An immigrant whose sole purpose in life is letting know someone where she is so they could send her body to her mother in case she died?! Anywho.. thought I’d tell you that somebody out there thinks you are pretty! Alright? No tears, ok?! And whether he was being kind or not, it took courage to stop and say it. Remember—you dorky-dork—that someday .. maybe.. you don’t have to call yourself to hear a friendly voice. Maybe you’d meet somebody who would wanna know how your day was. Take you out walking, maybe, on Saturday evenings. Pick you and drop you off outside Goodwill’s building, the way Karissa’s husband does for her. Maybe you don’t need cigarettes to keep you company. Or—or—shit!!—battery low. Ok… before I hung up.. you hung up… I want you to remember—whatever happens: Try to be there for you, ok? Be there– for me.. please. I can’t—can’t—do it alone. I really.. need you sane on this. Please…

Advertisements

Entry filed under: Latest Posts.

iTuned Miss Saigon, she so horny

2 Comments Add your own

  • 1. sistu  |  March 19, 2013 at 4:12 am

    Slipping(reading comprehension+attention span)=3min+ reading time for me but obviously worth every minute. If this was an actual voicemail, I would have speculated about a severe case of unlimited evening and weekend minutes. Having neither, I have become bitter.

    Anyway, or anywhoo :), Abesheetiye, anchi tsafi bicha enji, I for one want to know all about your days. Besides, in the future when current humans become extinct and geologists dig through the internet to reconstruct history, your blog maybe what it will take to prove that Ethiopians did walk the earth. With swagger.

  • 2. abesheet  |  March 20, 2013 at 6:09 pm

    Lol Sistu. I know it sounds very self-indulgent sometimes, but it’s all part of the narrative – as they say.

    In re phone expenses: Here is what my email signature reads “Sent From A Phone I Can’t Afford”. 89-230 dollars a month, girl; despite the unlimited call and text. Poke talk giving me too much of a head-ache when i need to call home. *note to self “take down the little girl at bottom of page and replace it with something as cute”*

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Trackback this post  |  Subscribe to the comments via RSS Feed


Warning!

The blogger tries to think outside the box, or wonder why she sometimes can't.

Recent Posts

Previous Posts

Flickr Ethiopia

ሙዚቃ [Ethiopian Music]

Some classic Some modernish And some Yirdaw... When I need a ringtone When I feel nostalgic When I need poetry

Have your say

DaNegus on A work of fiction
A_Nutter on A work of fiction
Dianoprincess on A work of fiction
Scooby on A work of fiction
Chuchu on Seattle smells of ‘አሪቲ…

Member of The Internet Defense League


%d bloggers like this: