The Call

Hands tremble as she puts coins in the payphone and dials her childhood number.

“It’ll work,” she gulps, waiting for a ring. “Caller I.D. isn’t invented yet.”

“Hello?” her mother answers.

“Mrs. Pryor?” she asks, heart in her throat.

“This is she.”

“I-I’m Mrs. Weymouth, your daughter’s teacher. You need to get to the school right away!”

“What?”

“There’s been a terrible accident!”

“Oh God! Is Amy okay?!”

Her hand begins to vanish. “Please hurry—”

“What’s happened?!”

The handset falls and swings.

“Hello?!”

The woman now made paradox disappears from the booth.

She opens her eyes, a child hugging her mother’s waist.

“It’s alright, Amy,” her mother comforts.

“I missed you,” Amy says between sobs.

“Missed me?”

A memory of a future no longer to be, fades to nothing.

“I, would have, missed you.” Amy corrects.

Their home burns as firemen fight the gas explosion. “Oh Sweetie, Mummy’s fine. We’ll be okay. But if it weren’t for that prank call, I… I’d…”

“If you’d died,” Amy vows with tearful eyes returned to innocence, “I would’ve built a time machine to save you.”

 

Copyright © 2019 by Jason H. Abbott, All Rights Reserved.