It’s 2AM and your phone has just buzzed you awake, filling the room in white-blue LED light. You have a message. It’s a photo. No words, no explanation. Just a photo. Tell us all about it. And what happens next. Creative Writing Challenge: 2AM Photo
Bling, bling! Bling, bling! Whenever I receive a text, my phone makes this awesome noise that my daughters call “Barbie Sparkles”. I like the sound because it’s loud and annoying enough to wake me up. But they are right, that’s what it sounds like.
Groggily, I roll over to pick up the glowing, vibrating phone from the nightstand. Even though I’m still mostly asleep I notice the time is 2AM. My brain knows it’s either the bank telling me that a deposit has cleared my account (I hate that sometimes I get those texts at 2AM!) or it’s my sexy Loverman sending me a sweet dream (I really enjoy those texts at 2AM).
I flip the phone open and open up the awaiting Multimedia Message. There are no words, just a picture message from Loverman of the driver’s side of the inside of my truck. The steering wheel looks like something smashed it into the dashboard, the airbag is deployed and deflated. Below I can see two legs sprawled out, mangled, jeans torn and bloody. I know exactly what happened. Loverman was in a car accident!
The grog immediately clears and I start to panic: Oh! My! God! Do I call the police? I don’t know where he is! Who am I going to call for help? He is the one I always call for help! I have to go out and find him! SSSSHHHHIIIITTTT!!!!
I frantically grab the clothes laying on the top of the dresser and spend 5 minutes falling all over myself because, seemingly, I cannot remember how to get dressed. It’s taking too much time and I am becoming more and more tangled with myself. “ARGH! This isn’t helping!!!” I think. But, I can’t think straight — what should I do? keeps screaming through my head over and over like a manic mantra. I am blinding myself with my fear, emotionally paralyzing myself in a state of utter panic.
It’s not until I get to my left shoe and I start putting it on when I start to realize how frantic I’m being. I need to slow down and be careful. I think about Loverman again and how disappointed he will be with me if I re-break that darn ankle so close to being deemed “healed”. Methodically, I concentrate on putting my left shoe on my healing foot and then I walk over to check myself out in the mirror because I don’t want to look like a crazy-meth-head-on-the-loose (even though I kind of felt like one).
I look acceptable. Freaked out! But, acceptable. I shake my body all over, take one more deep breath (inhale… exhale…) and I am on my way down the stairs to retrieve my jacket and my keys. Kitty was sitting at the top of the staircase watching me and he decides that he wants to go downstairs at the exact time that I do. And in the exact same footfalls, too. I avoid his elusive furriness for the first couple of stairs, but his fuzzy body lands on the third stair at the same time as my left foot.
“Fuck this!”, I hear myself say. I feel my body rolling down the last several steps and see my head hit the wall at the bottom. It’s strange how it all seems like an out-of-body experience. Am I unconscious? Am I dead? Did anyone hear and are they coming to help me? What have I done?
… … …
My eyes open with a start! I am laying back in my bed. There’s no pain. That’s strange. I move my head back and forth slowly. My neck’s not sore. Hmmmmm… I move my left leg around underneath the covers. Hmmmmm, again. The ankle is fine. It doesn’t even feel sore…
Remembering what woke me up so abruptly, I look over at my phone and see that there is a new message. Hoping that it’s Loverman with a sweet and sexy bedtime message for me, I open it. I could use something to take my mind off that crazy dream! I notice, as I open up my phone, that it’s 2AM…