Sober Sundays
Sober Sundays
Echoing One Last Time
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Echoing One Last Time

#Prompt 136

Ngozi heard it again. The cowardly but confrontational click. Someone was listening in on her phone calls. Her questions about this unique situation were worse than her fears. Who would be interested enough to listen to her calls?

Maybe it was time to switch to those new handsets everyone was talking about. Tony had one; he always made a whole show of flipping open the case and pulling out the antenna before involving every person within a 5-mile radius in his phone call. That loud and annoying man was her father’s choice for a husband—well, they could both get married for all she cared. She chuckled at her own joke.

It would be easy to blame some of her cousins for the phone clicks, but nobody was home. Her parents had asked her to stay with Nancy until they returned, but she wanted to be here. The house was finally quiet. She’d mentioned the clicks to Nancy, who suggested it might be NITEL crossing wires. Typical. Ngozi decided that next time, she’d say, “Who is there?”—in a deep voice, of course. “When in doubt, go masculine,” Nancy always said.

Two days later someone called to leave a message for her parents. As soon as she was done jotting things down, the caller hung up but she could hear the faint breathing, again. “Okay, you know what, I can hear you breathing - who is this, abeg?”
No response. She waited. Usually, the person would hang up just before she did but they were still there. Just as she was about to give up

It’s Ngozi, why are you changing your voice? Ngozi’s heart raced

She almost dropped the phone in shock. “W-what? Who is this?”

“but I just told you,” the voice replied, maddeningly calm. “Ngozi.”

She wanted to laugh, “You’re lying. Is this Nancy? Or Tony? Who put you up to this? I am Ngozi

Yes, I know but so am I. I’ve been listening to you for a long time, Ngozi. Everything you say, everything you do, it’s so… familiar.

Ngozi shivered. “Okay, I’m done with this. Goodbye.” She moved to hang up, but the voice cut in.

You’ll hang up, but you’ll call again. You always do.

So what do you want?- Why are you looking for my trouble, please?! She was desperate for answers, but the calmness of this “namesake” both frightened and annoyed her.

The voice replied, "I’m the part of you that you have forgotten. And I’m not going anywhere until you remember”

The line went dead.

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Sober Sundays
Sober Sundays
Every Sunday, a new poem or story by Obii