The Story of the Stow Away Phone (Part 1)

Since inception, MyBloogle has advocated walking the fine line between blogging and writing. My first work of “fiction” was a dramatic telling of the story of my first employment, complete with character names for all to read, now let’s try something different.

There come’s a time in every blogger’s life when they wish to do more than just write in the present tense. I fancy myself (it would be very strange if I stopped that sentence right there!) a writer/blogger, and hence came up with the following fictional story a while ago, during Ramadan.

The following tale is entitled The Stow Away Phone. I have broken it down into two parts, each part further broken down so as not to bore readers (3 pages).

The first part of the story sees the tale as lived through the eyes of the man in the story. The second part of the story will be lived through the eyes of the woman, along with the conclusion to the tale (a sort of, his & hers approach if you will).

All criticism is welcome.

So without further ado, let us commence with the story telling:


The Stow away phone

“Pull over here, you know, my neighbors can’t see me in a car with a guy.” She explained as he pulled in to the spot she had pointed to, a block or so from her building.

“Ok. Here we are, was that so bad? Is it something you cannot get used to?” he teased as he killed the engine so they could talk.

“It’s not that it’s just, you know… it’s better this way.” She avoided meeting his eyes as he looked at her.

The effect of her words now was even worse than when he first had heard them, earlier that day when they went out. Reminiscent of a pail of freezing water dropped upon an unsuspecting victim, he arose from his slumber, and dreams of what could have been.

“If you say so. Look, It’s getting late; you best get going before your father wonders where you are.” He spoke in a calm manner, albeit shaking inside.

“Ok, but call me the minute you get home ok?” she asked, a hint of concern evident in her tone.

“You know I am old enough to drive myself home responsibly thank you very much.” He responded jokingly. Why must she torment me and pretend like she cares? He thought.

“Just do it please? For my sake?” she pleaded.

“Ok.” He surrendered.

She got out of his car and he pulled out into the street, waiting until she had walked into her building before leaving.

In his mind, he went over the outing they had just had. He had confessed to her that something had changed in their friendship, and it escalated to the point where it could not be ignored any longer. He asked her if she felt the same way. She told him she did not want to jeopardize what they had, and it was best to remain as friends. He knew arguing would be futile, you either felt something, or you didn’t.

Given that they were not officially a couple; their outings consisted of a few close friends joining them at a restaurant. She always rode with him in his car. The ease with which they both communicated was not lost on him. The banter they shared, how she laughed at his jokes and he finished her sentences, how their orders always seemed to be the very same.

We even shared dessert! He thought to himself. Earlier in the restaurant that day he’d spotted a white haired old couple looking at them and smiling approvingly, which to him was a surefire indication that yes, there was something there, even if she seemed obliviously aloof to it.

What was driving him insane was that on particular outing with friends, he had been very coy in asking how she would tell if a person were interested in her; and what qualities she looks for in a man. Both answers almost screamed his name, as they were direct descriptions of his actions to and around her.


Tune in tomorrow for Part 2.

August 2011 ( View complete archive page )

September 2011 ( View complete archive page )

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