Phone for you!
This is based on a true story that not only did happen, but to me; I have altered this story in little to no way, this being my story I claim all rights to it.(for once)
A young boy by the name of Alex stood in the funeral home in his black suit, admiring the the photos, newspaper clipings, and items on the memorial of his Grandfather who was now one week dead, he walked over to his family as his various relatives comforted eachother, an occassional wail, an Aunt bursting to tears, his mother weeping into his father's shoulder. He walked up to the coffin an knelt down say whatever prayers he could praying for his Grandfather's soul, he knelt there in the numb shock of the depression he felt, someone nudged him and he looked up to see a line had formed he quickly rose and walked away, not before he had said how much he didn't get to talk to him, or hear of his stories of World war two in the Pacific, or in Korea. He wished that he had more time mabe just a day to talk with him, he sat down in a chair and watched the procession, eventual everyone had left and prepared for his move to the Church; he was the last one in the room, his mother came in and said it was time to leave. He got up and she left the roomas he walked to the door he stopped in front of the casket he bent over and his his inhumanly cold forehead. He wiped away atear as he went through the the doors to the car, it was a short ride to the church were he then served in the mass as he had been for five years; still silently weeping for the man in the box, they sang the last song, and he lead the proccesion out of the Church. He went back in with his brothers and took off his roobes, and joined his family in the car as they followed his forefather to the cementary. He watched as the military bauried the casket with the the red, white and blue banner shrouding it. He walked away went home cried himeself to sleep at six in the afternoon.
Three Long Monthes Later
Alex was living that day over again for the seventy-eighth time since that dreadful day, he was currently expirencing for the seventy-ninth time except when he came home he ran to the bed room and cried as he always had, suddenly the telephone beside him rang, his mother picked it up and yelled to him from the kitchen.
She yelled," Alex, phone for you!"
Still deep in the dream he picked it up and said a greeting,
"Alex," the voice said, a voice he wished he could still hear, " I was just calling to talk to you, we rarly talk anymore. I know how much you want to hear my stories," the dream started to fall apart, he was waking up and he knew it was because he knew it was a dream, his concious mind was waking and tearing apar the dream.
"I remember a time when I was climing a tree to setup telephone lines," his grandfather said, he voice still quite strong eventhough the phone had been desintigrated by his mind," I'd done the job and climbed back down when I felt a burning, I looked down to see that I was covered in fire ants, my friend and I tried to get them off when a fire truck passed by and hosed them off for us when they saw my rolling in the road. We had had a great laugh over it, and then there was the....in Kore....whe....our planes accid.... got sh...in the stom...
He awoke, he sighed; sitting up, he captured the remaining whisps of the dream, he later asked his Mom about the stories, she stared at him for a long time untill she said,
" Where'd you hear theose stories from? I'd almost forgotten about them, especially the time he had been shot by our own airplanes in Korea. Nono(Italian for Granfather)never told you those stories.
Suddenly he realized how mystical adream really could be Now to this vary day whenever he falls asleep he hopes to the Hevenly Lord to hear his mother say theose words again.
"Phone for you!"
He would smile, say hello, and never stop talking to the person he knew would be on the other side.