A Writer's 21st Century Memoir.

The Classroom Call

Photo by Pete Prodoehl via Flickr

Photo by Pete Prodoehl via Flickr

“Alright class, let’s settle down and get started,” the Professor said. “We’ve gotten a little behind last time and so we need to get started right away to finish this chapter by the end of today.”

Groans from various members of the class ensued. It was about four o’clock in the afternoon and several of the college kids were cancelling their plans on leaving early from the lecture. Papers were ruffling around and students were still filing into the class room late and making noise as they unpacked their tablets and computers from their bags.

“Today we are going to be cov—“

A light ringing noise was coming from behind the professor.

“What is that?”

The light ringing noise continued and slowly grew louder.

“I think it’s that old phone right there,” a student in the class said as she pointed to an older looking phone with an attached cord.

“You should answer it,” said another student. Some of the students in the classroom began to giggle and whisper about the phone no one knew was even there until the ringing began.

The professor turned around to grab the phone. “Hello?” he asked timidly. A long pause followed after he answered the phone. “Who is this?”

Nothing happened. The professor hung up the phone and shook his head in silence.

“Who was it?” a student asked.

“I’ve been getting these random cold calls, who I believe is from the same person, every day,” the professor said worriedly. “I can hear light breathing from the other side and then the person hangs up. It’s been happening on my house phone, cell phone and now this randomly placed classroom phone.”

“That’s weird,” the student said. “It sounds like a pretty serious situation.”

“I’m sure it’s probably another student from one of my other classes,” the professor said. “It’s not that big of a deal. It’s just a little annoying.”

The class continued on after the strange phone call up until its regular end time later that night. The students quickly filed out of the classroom leaving the professor packing up his laptop and his notes into his brown briefcase. He walked out of the classroom into the hallway, and then exited the school building in the back where the teacher’s parking lot was located. As he walked out toward one of the only cars parked in the lot a streetlight went out as he walked underneath it. The professor picked up his pace a little, stuck his key in the car’s lock, opened the door and threw his briefcase in the car. He then slid his lanky body in right afterward and immediately started the car and took off.

The professor’s breath slowed from its heightened panic after what he assumed was a failed attack on his life. He sped most of the way back to his house only stopping or slowing for red lights and stop signs. Within minutes his gray Toyota Corolla pulled into his driveway and nearly slammed into the garage door. The professor then exited the car and was stopped midway from slamming the car door.

His cell phone began to ring. The professor looked down at the screen to look at the caller ID already knowing that it would be the same blocked caller. He sent the call to voicemail and proceeded to walk toward the front door of his house.

The phone buzzed twice, signifying that the professor had received a text message. He stopped in his track and looked down at the phone’s screen.

We need to talk about Mark. I think he went to a reporter.

Everything You Know Is A Lie

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