Creative Writing

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“When someone prizes us just as we are, he or she confirms our existence” There I was, just lying in bed reading my book. I was so tired that I was considering going to sleep. As I turned the reading light off. I borrowed into the sheets to get comfortable and without even knowing I closed my eyes. As I was falling asleep, the phone suddenly rang. I considered leaving it to ring out, but the noise it made was so deafening. I picked up the phone and with I harsh tone said “who is it?” there was silence which frustrated me. I repeated myself “who is it?” In a very silent voice “it’s me”, I couldn’t quite make out who it was. Listening intently I heard “it’s me, John”. Everything froze; it was as if the world had stopped. I wanted to say something but the words would not come out. I panicked and hung up the phone. Creeping back underneath the sheets, I told myself that it was just a joke. I tried to go to sleep but I was too consumed in my own thoughts for sleep. As the sun rose the next morning, I was still so puzzled about the events of last night, I just couldn’t understand. John had been gone for eight years, killed in an avalanche, or so I had been told. As I was getting ready for work the phone rang. The thought of even picking it up frightened me. I planned on leaving it this time, but it just kept ringing. In my attempt to stop this I accidently answered. It was a police officer asking me to come down to the station, no information on what it was about, just specific instructions to come as soon as possible. As I pulled up to the station I had a strange feeling. When I walked in there was a man waiting for me, “Mrs. Abraham?” he said. I nodded my head, “come with me please”. We walked to a room where I sat down. “My name is Sergeant Walker”, he went on to explain that John was alive and that he would be returning home. I couldn’t fathom the words coming out of his mouth as I had been thinking that my husband had been dead for the past eight years. Shocked...
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