Youngsters’ Forum

The Phone Booth

November 20th, 2009

Here is a fantastic story all the way from America!

Harrison Sinclair needed a phone. His cell phone fell out of his pocket and broke, and all the public phones have been vandalized. The reason he wanted to call was to find out if his daughter was at the hospital or not. There was a big bus pile up at her school. The hospital was ten miles away; he had no money for a taxi, and he would not live with himself if he didn’t find out right away.

Harrison was exploring around the cityscape for ten minutes until he finally found an outdated looking phone booth right near some railroad tracks. The booth looked out of place compared to the steel skyscrapers, and there was an old Victorian look to it. He walked to the phone booth and dialed up the hospital number nearest to the place where the pileup happened. After a few seconds of ringing, a surprisingly clear voice said, “Hello, this is St. Mary Hospital. How may I help You?” “Do you have any recent records of Julie H. Sinclair?” “What does the “H” stand for sir?” “Er, well, its Homonubus.” He heard no snicker. “There is no Homonubus at our hospital, although there is a Homonubus at Green Leaf Hospital.” Harrison’s throat stiffened, “How old is she?” “Five years old sir.” It was his daughter!

Green Leaf Hospital was a mile away. Harrison sprinted down a sidewalk and got there in seven minutes. He signed in as fast as he could and asked what number was his daughter’s room. “490,” came the reply. He rushed to the room and walked in. He saw his daughter wrapped in bandages snd came close to his dear child. Her eyes were closed. When he went to her bedside, Julie’s eyes flew open and she said in a gravelly voice: “Am I going to the place where mommy went.” “I hope not, honey.” “Well I think I am going there.” After those words, she finally closed her eyes. Harrison’s eyes widened, and he sank to the floor weeping. Then he ran out of the hospital.

His wife had died a year before and he was still mourning her. At his daughter’s funeral, she was buried next to her mother. After a week, Harrison started lingering around the phone both. At first he hated it, he kicked the walls and punched the telephone box until his knuckles were bloody. But after a short while, it suddenly occurred to him that if he hadn’t found the phone booth, he would not have seen his daughter when she was still alive and he wouldn’t have heard her last words. After that thought, he started cleaning the glass in the booth. He also polished the telephone box. Every day he cleaned the floor. In a week, the booth glowed in the sun and sparkled in moonlight. As a last touch, he put a bronze plaque on the door that said: “This booth is commemorated to my wife and daughter. I hope you two are happy.” The phone booth was Harrison’s new pride and glory. But the loss of his family left a gaping wound of sorrow in him.

One day, as Harrison was polishing the bronze plaque, the phone rang. It was very peculiar. Nonetheless, Harrison picked it up. He heard a disgusting and gurgling voice saying: “I would rather die than apologize.” Then a sound like a bang followed and the line went dead. After a few minutes of panic, Harrison thought to himself, that must have been a prank caller, and left.

It was already night, and Harrison wanted to get home fast, so he crept through an alley that was a shortcut to his house. He suddenly stopped. He heard the same gurgling voice. It was coming from a side alley. Harrison peeked around the corner and saw twenty people standing in a circle. In the middle of the circle was a man. His face was covered in blood. There was another man in the circle; he had a trench coat and a hat on. He shoved the bloody faced man to the ground and snarled, “Apologize!” The other man replied in the same gurgling voice, ” I would rather die than apologize!” Then the trench coat man pointed a gun at the bloody man and shot it. Harrison gasped and ran the other way. He quickly called the police. The whole gang was arrested. For a week, Harrison didn’t visit the booth. The scene still haunted him. But when the week passed, he started cleaning the booth again. However, he did not have as much enjoyment in cleaning it as before. After a month, the second call came.

Harrison didn’t pick it up. But it kept ringing. After thirty minutes, Harrison finally picked the phone up. He heard the fanfare of a news report. Then he heard a news reporter’s voice say, “We are at the scene of an accident involving a derailed train. Unfortunately, there was one death. It was of a man named Harrison Sinclair. The accident happened at 2:05 p.m..” Harrison’s eyes widened, his throat constricted, he looked at his watch: 2:05 p.m. Then he saw the train. He saw it derailing. And he saw it crashing through the booth. He was killed instantly. After the crash, the only thing that remained intact was the bronze plaque. And the Sinclairs were a whole family once again.

By Mark, Forest Edge Elementary School

Entry Filed under: Forest Edge, Others