The Phone

Writing prompt from “Writing Basics” magazine for the week of June the 13th. 

This prompt asks the writer to create a story where they hear a pay phone ring outside of a restaurant.  Against your gut, you answer it and it leads to the wildest night of the writer’s life.  Disclaimer:  this story has no bearing in reality and does not necessiarly reflect the views or opinions of deathstalker2, WordPress, Facebook, CrimeCrawlers, or any of it’s owners.   

Ever have one of those nights?  When I think back on it, I’m lucky to be alive.  But at what cost?  You’re gonna think this story is a bunch of bullshit, and that’s fine.  I wouldn’t believe me either.  But let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.  Let me start from the beginning. 

It was a nice enough evening, early fall, the leaves had just started to change color.  It was cool enough to wear a jacket but not cool enough to where I’d be freezing without it.  I had just got done eating a burger and some fries at a local place down town.  Not a nice area to be in, certainly not the best place to eat, but I’ve had worse.  “Have a nice night now, hon”, the well-past her prime waitress said as I left.  I appreciated the gesture, though doubted I would do as she said.  The area was one of the last places in town you’d find a phone booth.  The last place you’d expect your life to change. 

With the advent of cell-phones (of which I was one of the few people on Earth not to have one), phone booths were going extinct.  I could see why this area would need one though.  I walked up too it, for the sake of nostalgia, when it rang.  Startled, I jumped back, and gained my composure.  I had a look around to make sure no one else had seen me so rattled.  No one around.  I thought about answering, then thought better of it.  “Damint, Matsuo get a hold of yourself”, I said silently.  The phone kept ringing.  I drew closer, hoping it’d stop before I picked up.  The last remnants of the daylight were fading as the blood red sky reflected down on the metal paneling of the phone giving it an unearthly hue. 

I answered.


A sultry female voice answered: ” Hello Matsuo.”

“Do I know you?  Who is this?”

“Listen, we don’t have much time.  My name is Anne-Marie.  Meet me at the Bellvue Hotel, room 215.  Now.”

“Who the hell is this bitch?”, I thought to myself while torn between hanging up and forgetting her, or doing as she said.  The hotel she mentioned was only a few blocks down…

“Anne-Marie, huh?  You don’t sound French.”, I said, trying to even the conversation by rattling her as she had rattled me.

“And you don’t sound asian”, she replied evenly.  I couldn’t argue this point, which further upset me. 

“What the fuck do you want?  Why should I meet you?”, I asked.

“Because I’m a gorgeous female who wants to screw your brains out.  I’ve been watching you since you entered the diner.  I’ve been waiting for someone to keep me company.  Don’t you want to keep me company, Matsuo?”  Her voice deepened as she asked the question, drawing me in.  I felt dizzy, confused, aroused. 

“How do I know this isn’t a scam?  You’re probably waiting with a pimp to rob me or something.”

“Matsuo, I am not a whore.  I have no pimp.  You’re special.  Come to me.  Now.”

I hung up.  There was something too needy about her, nevermind how weird this whole situation was.  No way I’m going to a shady motel to meet up with someone I hardly knew.  But what if she was on the up and up?  This could turn out to be a good night after all.  As I was deciding not to go to the Bellvue Hotel (much less room 215, abode of the mysterious Anne-Marie), my feet walked down towards there anyways. 

Five minutes later I stood in front of the Bellvue.  The red sky had gone pitch black. 

It was mostly vacant.  It rarely had any business these days.  What once was a grand place, had now fallen into ruin like most of this part of the city.  A light was on in the second floor and a female form was visible through the curtains.  Not thinking with my right head I entered the building, took the elevator, and knocked at room 215.  Two knocks in, the door flew open and a gorgeous, voluptous, woman with dark curly hair (obviously of french heritage)  and brown eyes that swallowed me whole embraced me in her arms, welcoming me into this room.  I surmised her age to be in her early thirties.  She kissed me, french style, I kissed back.  Her long green dress showed she had an air of class uncommon to this area. 

She closed the door.

“Matsuo, it’s good to meet you”, she breathed in my ear.  “I’ve been waiting for this moment for a while”.  She pulled down her dress to which her creamy breasts looked irresistable in a matching green bra.  He eyes watched mine, tempting me, drawing me in.  I was helpless at this point.  I squeezed and kneaded her breasts, and asked “Why me?”  She said “You’re not like the others here, you can handle this”.  She continued to kiss my neck, making me feel more relaxed that I should be.  Red flags going off in my mind were not being listened to. She slipped my jacket off my shoulders and onto the floor.  My shirt came next.  As she ran her small, nimble hands over my chest I felt a involuntary gasp escape my throat.  “This is too good to be true”, i thought to myself, really wanting to be wrong. 

At this point she undid her bra, and that’s when all hell broke loose. 

As I gazed at what I thought was to be heaven, strange things started to happen.  Her right areola opened little holes around it’s entire circumference, and shiny metal heads poked though.  I stood there paralyzed when suddenly Anne-Marie closed the gap between us at which point tiny metal bugs poured out of her breast and on to my chest.  I screamed as the bugs tore into my flesh, burrowing into my sternum.  I could feel my ribs break in one hundered different places as they did their work.  Anne-Marie held me with her eyes, evenly, as this happened.  All seductiveness was now gone and replaced with what seemed to be sympathy.  Or at least empathy. I tried to get away, but she grabbed me in a steel tight embrace, from which I could not get away from.  I felt ten-thousand metal legs burrow into my chest as I passed out from the pain.  The last thing I saw on her face was a faint smile. 

When I came to, I shot out of the bed yelling, only to realize I was at home in my own bed.  Other than a headache, I was fine. I examined my chest and had what looked to be a rash on it.  No dried blood to be found.  I ran my hands over my ribs, and they looked to be fine as well.  I could feel the the bugs in me though. 

It was then I found the letter.

“Dear Matsuo,

Let me explain.  Last night, I used you as part of an experiment.  I told you the truth, my name is Anne-Marie, and I did want you, though not for sex.  You are going to be used as human weapon.  For years I have been working with the U.S. government on a top secret nano-bot technology that would allow the aging process to be halted, if not outright stopped.  Would it shock you to know I’m 60?  I was injected with the nanobots around 30 years ago.  The technology also affords the user a skeletal upgrade, to keep the human structure in pristine condition.  You could already guess what it does to strength.  Your endocrine system will be very much enhanced, you will feel euporphic, empowered, unstoppable.   This is why I chose you. In order to get upgrades, my original nanobots had to be purged.  We’ve been wanting to try this on an ordinary citizen for a while, to see if the out of date technology will be adequate on a normal subject.  I had reservations about this.  I needed someone who seemed responsible enough for this.   Others in my work have chosen unwisely, and the subjects had to be put down.  I hope you will not be one of the casualties.  In time, you will grow accustumed to the enhanced strength and senses and your life will be beautiful.  You’ll never see me again but know that I will be watching you. 

–Anne Marie”

The fucking bitch!  I laid on the bed and it felt like heaven.  I could feel every fiber of the matteress spread out beneath me.  All anger faded, replaced with a blind sense of euphoria.  I slapped myself in the face to gain some compsure with what I thought to be a love tap  and felt my nose break.  I yelled “SHIT!” as I held a hand to stop the bleeding.  She was not kidding about the strength.  The pain suddenly dimmed down and as I went to the bathroom and wiped the blood away, I found my nose to be perfectly in place.  I also saw it’s fixers briefly wiggle softly under my nose. 

As I washed the rest of the blood off my face, I wished I’d never answered that damn phone.


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