The Body

Many times I’ve dreamed of running into a large sum of money, or finding a suitcase full of cash.

Well now I was lucky enough to find one, and lugged it around with me.

I had my briefcase full of money; twenty thousand, as far as I could tell.

Did I count it? I don’t remember. It was more like I just knew how much was there.

How long had I been in this wasteland, and what happened?

Do I have a family? Friends? A lover?

The wind howled like demons in the sky, the flaps on my long coat buckling and jostling against me. The sky smell of burnt cinder. Ash blew past like dirty snow on the breeze.

I don’t know where I am. The brown sky hides the landmarks from my sight. I could make out a blurry spot in the sky that seemed to be the sun. Its shine only a hazy blur down here where I marched on aimlessly, a barely discernible image in the smoke.

Every since I found this stash it seems I’ve been in this fog, and I can’t seem to remember where I come from... or where I’m going.

Another sound caught my ear. A flapping, like the rustling of leaves. I turned in its direction and hustled toward it.

Fluttering in the breeze like a hummingbird, a little black book weaved back in forth in the wind. Its erratic movements seemed to slow as I approach, the pages resting open in the middle of its binding.

I reach out my hand, the tattered glove exposing my flesh in spots, and clutch the book from the air. I could feel the aged leather against my roughened, dry fingertips.

I flip through its pages, back and forth. I see it only has one entry.

Scrawled on the center of a page, near the middle of the booklet, 'Home. 843-2639.'

Whose home? My home?

I snatched the book and walked on in the storm.

After some time a light caught my eye, and I trudged toward it. As I neared, I recognized the soft white glow and could read the word ‘Telephone’ across its top in white surrounded in a strip of blue.

I entered the booth, pulled out the black book and picked up the phone.

As I lifted it to my ear I heard the pleasant voice of a woman sing in my ear, “Please deposit twenty thousand dollars.”

I scoffed. After a moment, the recording repeated itself.

“Please deposit twenty thousand dollars.”

As I dropped the phone I could still hear her chanting on her ridiculous request. The receiver hung on its cord, swinging back and forth. A briefcase sized slot was situated inside the booth. Above the slot read ‘Insert $20,000.’

I stepped out and sat on the nearby bench to ponder paying my newfound fortune to make a call.

I opened the book again and flipped through it. Only the one page had writing. Home.

I stood up, and heaved the case into the slot. All of this was now beyond me.

There was nowhere to spend this money anyway. What was I going to do; eat it to survive?!

What if I spend this money on a phone call, and no one answers?

What if this isn't my home, but someone else's?

Maybe whoever it is can tell me where I am, and how to get out of here.

Maybe they will know what happened, and where everyone is.

As the case slid into the notch in the phone booth a buzz sound rang, and I was overwhelmed by light and noise.

A rhythmic beeping began to gain volume, and darkness enveloped me.

I felt weightless, or like I was falling, and it scared me.

Shaking and startled, I reopened my eyes to see my family waiting for me as I lay in the hospital bed.

Shouts and tears of joy erupt as I come back to life.