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The Telephone

By Michael Berry All Rights Reserved ©

Other

Chapter 35

2 Weeks Later

The inner chamber of the Town Hall is silent, now. The ghostly figure of the fog slowly seeps its way into the building like a pest burrowing inside a dilapidated structure.
The once incessant ticking of the small clock above the Telephone device now hangs silent and unmoving. The once constant gentle humming of the mass of generators in the cellar is now dead, the fuel long since run dry. The multitude of recording and computer equipment in the small room now lies still without power, the electrical surge that once ran through its veins giving it life now exhausted, the long lengths of recording tape now lies in piles on the cold stone floor slowly gathering dust.
A sudden rush of wind breaks the still silence as it breaths its way through the small stone openings high up in the walls, blowing a large group of dark brown dead leaves across the floor, a thin layer of dust gets caught up in the breeze, the countless tiny grains of dirt wrapping themselves like a mini tornado around the leaves.
The large collection of leaves, with the helping hand of the breeze, slowly began to rise up from the floor and moved up slowly toward the ceiling, briefly brushing against the dead pieces of machinery that made up the Telephone device, the long tube shaped pieces of metal, the countless series of multicoloured wires, the small wave machine and the Telephone machine itself, all dead, the great surge of electricity now extinct from its systems.
Suddenly, without any kind of warning, the small round dial on the Telephone machine slowly began to turn around and mark out certain numbers as though moved by unseen fingers. As each number was chosen, a small ringing sound emanated from the machine indicating that it was on and working.
The numbers constantly and slowly continued to be marked out, slowly creating a huge Telephone number that seemed to go on forever. Then, a sudden strong gust of wind blew across the Telephone device and knocked the receiver from its fixed position, allowing it to hang by its long twisting wire from the device and slowly waver from side to side.
A low sounding crackle of power emanated from the earpiece of the receiver, crackling like a distorted radio transmission. After a few moments, the crackling began to subside, replaced by quiet, almost silent sounding multitude of voices lost in indistinct banter. Then, a much stronger voice began to permeate through the others, as though trying desperately to break through and be heard. Slowly, the voice quickly gathered in strength and audibility until finally it was loud and clear.
‘Father.’ Came the speeded up and high sounding voice of Sarah Gaelock as it bounced around the huge and empty room.
Then, along with Sarah’s, another voice suddenly appeared alongside hers, equal in strength and audibility. It was a male voice, low and deep in sound, but equally speeded up with Sarah’s at the same pitch.
‘We all turn.’ Came William’s unmistakeable voice immediately after Sarah’s. The two voices continued to speak the same things over and over like a broken record.
‘Father.’ . . .’we all turn’ . . .’Father.’ . . .’We all turn.’
The two voices continued to repeat the same statements over and over, joined in the background by the muffled sounds of countless other voices, until both of them slowly began to die down in audibility until finally both fell silent and the tiny crackling sounds from the earpiece stopped altogether and the receiver continued to waver silently from side to side.

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