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The Little Cellphone


In a bright store with clear plastic tiles lay a little cell-phone. And for its age, it was a very advanced cell-phone. Why, it was the littlest cell phone anyone had ever seen! And all that week people wearing branded shirts, ties and accents stood and welcomed the little cell-phone into the world. Cameras flashed to get a glimpse of this tiny thing, and televisions couldn’t get enough of talking about how great the lil one was. Of course, all this lasted about a week before another cell-phone not quite as little but one that could yell quite loudly and never get tired took the spotlight.

That didn’t bother the littlest cell-phone at all though, cause in the brief days that he was the only colored ad on the last page, someone had come to that store with the bright lights and taken him home. And oh the admiration that was to follow. The young girl and all her young friends wanted to hold him, check out his shiny surface and smooth keys and all the new software in him. He was placed with utmost care in a crystal stand which made the light reflect in crazy angles. He had the sweetest voice which is the first thing the young girl heard as she woke up. He was also the only one she would look at with those eyes full of love and hope. Everytime he beeped, her heart leapt lightly and a slight blush came over a cheek.. and he was the only one she shared her sorrows with as well, like that time after a really long call at 2 AM. In all, they were the best of friends. She took him out everywhere, even in the rain which he liked a lot cause it tickled as it ran into his boards and to the discotheques which he didn’t like as much cause no matter how loudly he’d yell she would never hear him there. But she did listen to him at other times, sometimes very intently. There was this once when she was telling him a story, about a collar that was pretty and white that had many adventures with a garter, an iron and a ballerina scissors, who cut him in spite. He ended up in a bin and later was turned into paper on which that very story was written. It didn’t make any sense to our lil cell-phone, all this talking collar bit. But he listened nevertheless, cause that’s what the best of friends do.

One day, the lil phone fell down from the bed. He kept saying that he had rolled over a lil too far, but the radio that sat beside the night lamp had seen the young girl’s hand push it down. And then the other day, she flung him out of her purse while he was ringing his sweetest tune. Again the cell-phone said that he had been day-dreaming and fell out quite by himself. The falls had done their damage, his sparkling armour was scratched and dull, and of late his hearing was not that good either. And then one day it happened. She came home with another plastic box that had a brand new cell-phone which didn’t even speak the same language as him. He was cast aside on the second shelf above the pile of unopened letters from the Bank, right beside the expired bottle of Nyquil, some broken light bulbs and 24 pens that don’t write anymore.

The bulbs were sympathetic to the lil cell-phone, and even the pens agreed with his plight.. the bottle of Nyquil didn’t offer any words but the phone was too much in sorrow to bother about others. He sat there and watched as his replacement was shown off to her friends. He watched the old TV who had said so many funny things to the family over the years get replaced by a slimmer one with a red, evil eye that was always blinking on. He watched as that black laptop she always typed at was replaced by a smaller, white one. He watched all these things and only shut his eye when the new cell-phone was place beside him on that neglected shelf. He figured it was someone else’s turn to stare at the changing things.

————————————————————————–

A story written in a style as that of the fairy tales of Hans Christian Anderson. If you’ve read these recently, you’ll recognize the style of narration by inanimate things, the abruptness of the events. You’ll also spend some time thinking what the moral of the story was. The fairy tales were written for kids and supposedly held a moral, but I really feel HCA just wrote such stories cause they were fun to read by kids who didn’t care about the philosophical moral in discussion. I suggest you do the same.

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