What I Know Who Gave The Girl My Number

Mr. Raymond’s “liquor” bottle helps conveys the theme of the story because the bottle is actually Coca-Cola but the town believes it to be alcohol just because it is in a brown paper bag. The bottle conveys

Ricky was the oldest of five siblings with a towering frame, clean shaven sideburns, and a neatly kept goatee; he walked with his shoulder perch back and always had a stern look on his face, despite all that he had a smile that could melt any heart. We grew up in the hills of Jamaica, surrounded by beautiful sky blue waters, tall coconut trees and lush green mountains. At night, the millions of stars were a sight to behold. We siblings would play out in the yard all day until it was as late as 6 pm. Ricky would come riding his bike in the driveway and ask if our homework was done. If any of us said no, the play time that we had looked forward would turn into an unwilling study session.

Buffalo Jack’s was the kind of joint Evan hated. It was over crowded, loud, and there were people’s brats running around everywhere. The décor was that of a family fun atmosphere complete with plenty of crap adorned on the walls and a row of video games just off the entry way. Unusually tall tables lined the room’s walls and its core each surrounded by a half a dozen stools. Popcorn and peanut shells littered the floor encouraged by the management’s anything goes at Buffalo Jack’s philosophy. Patrons drank out of bell jars and watched sports on the twenty-five or so television sets that were plastered everywhere.

“I remember it because they got the whole nine yards- fill up, oil check, windshield cleaned- It was the time of the year when the Lovebugs was really bad; they covered the windshield, grill, and hood. They bought a six-pack of RC colas and a bag of Macks assorted cookies. I saw a couple of those Tommy-guns lying on the backseat.” Joshua turned in his seat and gave Tommy his full attention. “They looked like gangsters; suits and ties and such. We didn't have television back then, but I'd seen pictures in the newspapers. One of 'em was short and stocky, the other two was taller. I figured they was hauling moonshine,” Tommy continued. “That thing was weighed way down in the back, setting real low like. They was outta New Orleans, Louisiana – said they was a looking for the Sunset Inn. I told them the place was closed down- You're probably too young to remember, Sheriff, but all the juke joints closed down during prohibition- I told them if'n they still had a mind to go there, it was over on Old Shell Road, and I gave 'em directions. It weren't none of my business what they was

Albert parked the car in a parking spot, then quickly swivelled to his companion. “Go get him out of there.” Laura agreed nervously, shooting her hand through her black hair and down the back of her neck. She shut the door softly and stared at the roadhouse on the other side of the street. Her face glowed from the neon lights at Rick’s dance bar. There was the sound of laughter when she opened the outside door a couple of minutes later and when she opened it again later on. A man was next to her in the lighted doorway. Two pairs of footsteps came along a gravel pathway then, and over to the parking lot.

The highway blurred in front of us as the blistering heat floated from the asphalt and pierced through the surface of my beloved green Buick Roadmaster. Having had to survive the 1100 mile journey to San Antonio under extreme heat and financial limitations, Chuck and I were suffering from hunger, thirst, and fatigue. Driving to his ex-girlfriend Catherine’s funeral, Chuck surprisingly showed a stoical acceptance of her death. However, his peculiarly expressionless face and complete lack of speech made me question his sanity. The last encounter they had was when she came to visit just a week ago, after which Chuck announced their break up. By then he had dated her for almost five years, faithful to her even from a different side of the country.

Kyle was professional enough not to inquire as to his moods and that was the way Bobby liked it. They arrived at his sprawling estate and Bobby slid out of the car without comment or a backward glance. Using his key card and pressing in the access code of his security system, Bobby entered the house. He dropped his briefcase and messenger bag on the red silk upholstered ottoman by the door and slipped his oxfords off , not by pushing the backs down until he could slip his feet out. He padded quietly across the Italian marble floor to his study. The jacket and tie that had been so stifling were removed and tossed onto the arm of the couch. He poured himself another drink from the wet bar in the corner. Emma had heard the car in the drive and greeted him with a warm

It was a bright evening with the light shining through the window curtains casting a ray down upon Mr. Johnson’s crude and bitter face. He rose with a grunt, his rump pulling the sheets in a fashion only comparable to that of a maelstrom. As the cover of the bed was yanked towards the mighty roundness of Mr. Johnson’s figure, a large bottle fell to the floor with a slight ting in its landing. “A lousy day for the aftermath of drinking, wouldn’t you say, honey?” he bellowed downstairs. The plump man’s comical roll to his feet was that of an armadillo hiding in fear of predators. With vigor, he yanked his coat off of a nearby coat rack and bolted down the stairs, nearly falling, towards the fresh smell of a homemade meal prepared on the kitchen counter. “I don’t know what you you’re talking about, pal.” A crude voice muttered from behind the counter. It was at this point that Mr. Johnson realized, this house was not his own. In fact, it was not a home at all. A sudden flashback nearly knocked him off his feet. He, in that moment, remembered where he was. This was the hotel he stopped at on his drunken march home from town. “Oh dear, sorry for the confusion. I fear I may have made an improper judgement of the building I slept in last night.” He reached his hand in his pocket. “For your troubles?” He handed the man a small flask of what appeared to be a thick liquor. “Thank ya, kindly stranger, really takes the edge off of a stressful work day.” Said the man with a devilish smile on his face as he slid it in his pocket. “That it does.”, replied Mr. Johnson. “That it does.”

I looked at the caller ID and blinked, not sure I was seeing it right. It wasn’t my sales manager at all. This time, it was my home number. Krista.

She walked around bobby’s house admiring the books on the shelves. He wasn’t here and he didn’t know the girl was coming. They hadn’t seen each other in a little over 2 years, when they had spoken, he gave her advice when she needed it but otherwise she didn’t talk to too many people, except her, but she’s gone now. That’s actually why she was there, she wanted to stay with Bobby for a while, while she got her head on straight. Suddenly she heard a car pulling up and she walked into the devil’s trap she had drawn on the hard wooden floor. She thought he noticed her car because she could hear him open his trunk and grab a shotgun. She just sat down on the chalk not caring that her butt was going to get all white. She heard the front door open

She sat on a plane next to a crying baby, and a mother that prayed her baby would stop crying. She smiled at the baby. She thought about Louis. She thought about what he must be doing. She didn’t want to hurt him. She felt terrible. Her heart physically ached, and she hadn’t stopped crying since that night. She was so terrified. Louis really loved her, and she didn’t know if she could commit to something so permanent. The rain had soaked her to the bone, and now she was a shivering mess. She felt that the rain had cleansed her dirty soul. The soul that she was trying to fix, but nothing could fix her problems. She was doomed to be alone forever. She was never going to go back to Louis. He didn’t need to be with someone like her. She didn’t belong with anyone. She lied to everyone that

I emerged from my room a new man, trading the camouflage uniform I had worn earlier in the day for a pair of American eagle jeans and a button up plaid shirt. “Looking good, feeling good,” I said to myself as I looked at my reflection in the mirror before I left. As I opened my door to step outside I was greeted by the green and grey beauty of the mountains that surrounded the camp. I walked swiftly downhill, letting gravity do the work, to Brett’s room. I stood in front of a solid wood door and could hear conversation and laughter on the other side. I knocked anxiously, ready to get the evening started. As the door swung open I was greeted by Brett’s goofy smile and an ice cold beer. As I peeked further inside the room, I could see Treece and Chambers talking in one of the bedrooms, lining the window sill with empty beer cans. Brett regained my attention when he asked “You ready to get going?” In the most sarcastic way I knew how I exclaimed “Well, I guess I don’t even get to have one

It was a crisp Thursday afternoon. Kevin Miller was sitting at his office as always, Jackie Miller was on her way home from an all night shift in the emergency room. Maggie Miller their daughter was walking through the Booneville Park as she normally does when her parents fought. It was becoming an every morning thing, so Maggie spent a lot of time walking through the park. It was peaceful. As the golden orange and red crispy leaves crunched under her feet, pigeons flew from around her. An old man sitting at a park bench with a hand full of bird feed gave her a scowling look.

I finally get back home late at night with a charged phone now and begin to look at all the text messages I have received from the unknown number and begin to freak out and suddenly…. receive a facetime call from the exact same number from earlier. My natural reaction was to decline but this time I wanted to find out who the person was or at least find out what they looked like so I can figure who has been messing with me this entire night.

It was hot in Oklahoma City. The concert had been terrific. Steven and his dad, Rudy, would never forget being in the same room as one of the greatest blues musicians of all time. They had heard rumours that, if you waited around the artist’s entrance long enough after a show, Isaac Smith would eventually allow you to come in and meet him. Steven and Rudy were in no hurry. So, they decided to wait.