(Author's Note - challenge 14)
It was a hot summer. I was outside in the garden, happily reading a book and drinking my cup of tea, when my phone rang. I was going to let it go to message bank but it kept ringing. Annoyed, I got up and went inside the house.
"Yes?" I answered, rather crossly. I hate the demanding nature of phones, always insisting on your attention, whatever else you might be doing. Which is exactly the reason I don't have a mobile‒much to my daughter's incomprehension and frustration.
"Follow me."
The caller hung up.
What?
Before I could do more than mutter, I heard another ring ring. Which was really weird because it sounded like it was coming from the roof.
All I could think was that someone must have thrown a mobile up there. I went outside to the shed and carefully carried the lightweight ladder around to the front of the house. The phone was still ringing. I climbed up slowly, just a couple of rungs, and peered over the edge of the gutter.
To my amazement, there was an old fashioned black phone sitting near the edge of the roof, complete with a round dial and handset. Ringing. Dazedly I picked up the receiver, studiously ignoring the fact that there was no cord attached.
"Hullo? Who is this?"
"Keep going. Nearly there." The voice sounded cheerful enough, but the caller hung up before I could ask what the hell was going on.
Ring. Ring. The sound came again, but it wasn't the black phone. It was coming from further up the roof.
I looked up and spotted a blue police phone box parked near the chimney. The ringing was coming from inside. A cheerful light issued from a small lamp on the top.
For a moment, my heart leapt joyously in my chest. Adventure - the stars -the universe. Then plummeted, as reality crashed in. Too late. Sadly, I climbed carefully down the ladder, ignoring the phone. If only he had come sixty years ago‒or even forty‒but... tomorrow was my 80th birthday.
Too late.
The phone continued to ring.
