This was a Language Arts project I did for school, and I thought it wasn't half bad, so I decided to post it here. I wouldn't say it's my best work, as I did most of it within the past three hours, but it's definitely an improvment from the last story I posted.
Telephone Booth
“We shouldn’t be down here Bekka.” Phoebe whispered nervously.
Bekka rolled her eyes, her hand on the cold metal doorknob of her basement.
“Your grandfather told us never to go down here.”
“Stop being such a worrywart Phoebs,” Bryon said, playfully punching Phoebe on the shoulder.
Bekka, Bryon, and Phoebe stood at the entrance to Bekka’s basement, debating whether or not they should disobey her grandfather’s stern command never to go in. Bekka had always wondered why the mysterious room was off limits, but had never had the chance to explore it.
“Well, you can stay here Phoebe, but we’re going in.” Bekka said firmly, and opened the door.
She and Bryon descended the stairs, and after a moment of self debate, Phoebe followed them. The three friends gasped as they reached the bottom stair. The small, wood paneled room was full of machines of all kinds, from small and intricate to enormous contraptions that took up an entire corner of space. Bekka was intrigued by one such machine, which stood in the far right corner and was covered by a black velvet cloth. Bryon walked to a tiny pyramid shaped machine that buzzed loudly every few seconds, his eyes sparkling with childlike wonder. Bekka walked to the covered object, carefully avoiding the various machinery in her path. It was nearly eight feet tall and more than half as wide, and shaped like a huge rectangle. She found a corner of the cloth and tugged on it gently. It slid off with surprising ease, rippling like liquid as it fell.
“Oh,” She breathed, staring in awe at the strange sight before her.
The machine was an old red telephone booth, which had clearly seen better days, but it was anything but ordinary. What seemed like hundreds of tiny electrical boxes and thick ropes of wire covered the sides, and thousands of tiny lights twinkled brilliantly like stars in a night sky. The air around it reverberated with energy, as if it was alive. Bekka snapped out of her trance and ran to where Bryon was still inspecting the miniature pyramid.
“Bryon, you’ve got to see this!” She cried, taking his hand and leading him to the telephone booth.
“Woa,” Was all he could say when he saw it. “Phoebe, get over here!”
Phoebe stepped carefully over a mass of wires and edged her way to where Bekka and Bryon stood.
“What do you think it does?” She asked quietly, after the initial shock of seeing such a thing was over.
Bekka smiled mischievously, “There’s only one way to find out.”
She turned the brass doorknob and opened the door. The pressure inside the machine released with a soft hiss, and the door swung open. Bekka and Bryon stepped inside. Where a payphone would have stood on the wall there was a small silver panel with what looked like a calculator built into it. The rest of the walls, with the acception of the door, which was made of glass, were covered with more minute electrical boxes and lights.
“These things haven’t been used in years.” Bekka said, “And I’ve never seen one like this.”
She pressed a small green button on the panel, and jumped in surprise as the machine came to life. It whirred and buzzed, and its lights began to flash quickly. Press the number buttons to decide which year you would like to travel to, Said a female voice from a box just above the panel. An idea struck Bekka, and in a moment of foolish curiosity, pressed 2-0-0-7. Press enter, Said the voice.
“Bek, you don’t really believe this thing can take us to the past, do you?” Phoebe asked skeptically.
Bekka smirked. “No, but what harm could it do to try? Come on Phoebs, try it with us.”
Bekka pulled her in before she had the chance to protest, closed to door, and pressed the blue flashing “enter” button just below the numbers. The time machine began to shake violently, and the room beyond the door blurred into a swirling mass of colors, like a watercolor painting. Phoebe screamed and grabbed Bryon’s hand. Bekka pounded on the door and tried to open it.
“It’s stuck!” She shouted, fear filling her eyes.
After several terrifying moments, the shaking stopped and the room outside the door solidified once more. Bekka placed a trembling hand on the doorknob, and to their surprise and relief, it opened without a sound. She gasped as she stepped out of the time machine.
“This isn’t my basement.” She whispered.
It was most certainly not. The strange machines had disappeared, and the fine wood paneling replaced with bare cement walls.
“Did we just….” Phoebe began.
“We couldn’t have….” Bryon put in.
“Traveled back in time.” Bekka finished.
They walked across the plain, barren room and climbed the stairs, which were now made of wood. Bryon opened the basement door, and they stepped into the house. It was of the same general design of Bekka’s, but furnished much differently. They walked down the hall to the living room, which bore some resemblance to Bekka’s basement; at least as far as strange machinery goes. On a plain mahogany coffee table there sat an assortment of wires, cables, and other electrical equipment, all centered around a small rectangular box.
“I know where we are.” Bekka said quietly. “Thirty years ago my grandparents lived in this house, not the one I live in, that was built on top of this one after it burned down.”
“Why did it burn down?” Bryon asked curiously.
“Because of that.” She replied, pointing to the box. “It’s a bomb. The man that used to live here was planning to sell the design to the FBI, hoping to get some cash out of it. But he wired the prototype wrong and it exploded. He and my grandmother, who lived with my grandfather upstairs, both died. My granddad was crushed, that’s why he keeps mostly to himself.”
“But why didn’t your grandfather die too?” Phoebe asked. “And wouldn’t you mom have been born by then?”
“She was ten.” Bekka said, walking over to the coffee table, “She and my grandfather were out buying groceries when it happened.”
“Bek, what are you doing?” Asked Bryon.
“Looking for the blueprints for this thing.” Bekka replied, searching the floor around the coffee table. “From the looks of it this is a few months before the accident, and he’ll never be able to finish the bomb without it, and making another one could take years, with all the wiring and chemical combinations and what not. If he never builds it, it never explodes. If it never explodes, my grandma will have never died.”
A worried expression crossed Bryon’s face. “Bekka, I know that would mean a lot to your family, but messing up a chain of events could change the course of history. People could die, others could have never been born, we have no idea what changing this could lead to.”
“I found it!” Bekka cried triumphantly, “Bryon, I know you’re worried, but I doubt bringing my grandmother back to life will kill anybody.”
Bryon threw up his hands. “It’s your family, I’m not going to stop you.”
Bekka smiled and walked to the back door at the far side of the room. She opened it and tore the paper to shreds, letting the pieces slip from her grasp, carried away by a gust of wind. She closed the door and dusted off her hands.
“Let’s go home guys.” She said pleasantly. “I can’t wait to meet my grandmother!”
Just then, there was a loud bang from the other end of the house, and the jingling of keys being put away. The friends exchanged terrified glances.
“He’s home!” Bryon whispered.
Bekka motioned urgently to the basement, which was at the far side of the hallway, out of sight of the front door. Basement. Go. Now! She mouthed, and they made their way as quietly as possible to the door. Bryon opened the door noiselessly and they crept down the stairs. From the kitchen they could hear whistling, the man hadn’t heard them. Bekka opened the door of the time machine and they filed in without a word. She pressed the green button, and stifled a scream as the automatic voice clicked on and relayed the instructions. Press the number buttons to decide which year you would like to travel to. The whistling stopped abruptly, and heavy footsteps led to the top of the stairs.
“Who’s down there?” He asked gruffly.
Phoebe gasped and Bryon put a hand over her mouth to silence her. The footsteps began to descend the stairs.
“Bek, press 2-0-3-7! Press 2-0-3-7!” He whispered urgently.
Bekka fumbled to find the right numbers, her hands shaking violently. 2-0-2 – No! That’s not right! She thought frantically. The footsteps were halfway down the stairs.
“Bek!”
2-0-3-7! Yes! The time machine began to hum. Press enter, Said the voice. The footsteps had reached the bottom of the stairs now.
“Hey, what are you kids doing down here?” The man asked angrily.
Phoebe screamed. Bryon slammed the door shut. Bekka pressed enter just as the man reached the time machine. He banged on the door, trying to open it, but it was already shaking too hard for him to get a grip on the knob. His face became a distorted mass of colors. Bryon and Phoebe closed their eyes, waiting for the ordeal to be over.
The time machine stopped shaking, and Bekka’s basement was clearly visible beyond the glass door. Bryon turned the knob and he and Phoebe tumbled out. He helped Phoebe to her feet and looked around for Bekka.
“Bek? Bek!” He shouted, confused, “Where are you?”
“Hello?” Shouted a voice from upstairs, “Who’s in the basement?”
Bryon and Phoebe walked to the stairway and saw an old woman standing at the landing, looking just as confused as they were.
“What are you children doing in my basement? Get out now, or I’m calling the police!”
“No!” cried Phoebe, “Don’t call the police! We’re just looking for Bekka, are you her grandmother?”
“Bekka?” replied the old woman, “I don’t know anyone by that name, and I have no grandchildren.”
