Call me, maybe
Title
The Wicked Maker
The black screen shines its light, inciting
irritation from me.
I used to like dark colours, that is, after the colour
green. After reading The Secret Garden however, I was intrigued by black. In a
way, watching the spy cartoon - Kim Possible, made my interest in the colour
black grew back then. I liked Mary’s changes, and Dickon’s brightness.
Nevertheless, when they were bright, they lost their mysteries. That was all I
cared about in the past; mysteries. I was sure that I outgrew them. I was. But
I hate that vibrate accompanied shine from the usual black screen that rests on
the accent table.
When ignoring does not work, I take out the
couch pillow and buries the rectangular shaped purple coloured device under it.
I hope that would take off my mind from its now shining screen. Most people
would have checked the name appeared on the screen before deciding whether to
ignore it, or to answer the call. I know that whoever it is could be someone
important, wanting to tell something important but my mind still refuses to
bother myself with it. In the advance social ease, hermit only have increasing
worries. The whole easier communication due to progressing technology made
people like me, who prefers to be unreachable, reachable.
There’s a reason hermit lives in secluded
area where not many likes to stop by. There’s a reason they don’t have
visitors. There’s a reason why they do not invite others to their home but walk
miles just for a little socialization. If, in any of their rare walks to town,
someone tries to build rapport, they shrink back to their sanctuary, not
leaving it for days or months until they are sure that no one remember them
enough to bother.
In modern world, that sanctuary is my room.
Unfortunately, the device that is essential in today’s world, the portable
small rectangular device called phone, doesn’t share my sentiments. It intrudes
my life like a pestering child, buzzing for every single detail. I like to
think of myself as a readily reachable person. When I was first given a handheld
phone, I made myself available for calls and SMSses. Reality is that when
technology advance so far that communication became cheap, people bother each
other with unnecessary questions every second, it’s a nuisance!
So as I suffer the constant knowledge of
someone trying to reach me and the green acknowledging access button is buried under
the pillow near me, I pace back and forth the room, anxious of my unreasonable
fidgety. The buzzing dies down. Relief washes over me as I sit on the couch,
feeling tired of the mental battle I just had. Time carries me to the land
behind the slumber curtain, an image of frustration and multiple ringing from
devices of varying sizes.
Nightmare!
I wake up to find my phone ringing; a call
from a close friend. My hand reaches to answer the call but my eye catches the
red blinking battery icon and I subconsciously formed a wry smile. The screen
then turn back to its default state; blackness. My dear close friend will visit
me if it was important. The thought made me feel wicked, but it doesn’t lessen
my happiness.
I return to slumber with the faith that
good dreams are being weaved for me.
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