Sandy could see out over the city from her perch on top of the Four Winds Communication Telephone pole. Her unobstructed view allowed her to see into the lives of the characters below. "Oh, don't do it, girl," she said, "no, no, no, she did it, Amy. I am watching a seventy-year-old woman's breast floating around the water of her above-ground pool." "I can't believe you get paid to be a creepy peeping Tom," Amy said over the line. "More like a peeping, Tammy," Sandy giggled. "Aren't you supposed to be fixing something? Stop spying on people." Leaning back against her brace, Sandy focused on the task in front of her tucking some wires inside the transformer. "This job isn't doing you any favors," Amy said. "This is the best job I have ever had," Sandy said, closing the box as she brushed her hands together. "Done." Grabbing the water bottle dangling from her waist, she squirted the liquid in her mouth as she went back to watching the mini-movies that played before her. "It doesn't sound like you are climbing down," Amy said. "Nope, I think I'll take my break now." "Seriously, what if you fall or your restraints give out? Do you know how dangerous it is just to hang suspended from the top of a wooden pole?" "You worry too much, Amy; this is not more dangerous than your job," "I write greeting cards." "Exactly," Sandy said, focusing her attention on a small diner not far off in the distance. "I've learned so much about people since I took this job." "No, you haven't." Amy huffed, "You romanticize what you see like it's some movie plot. People are not that great; more often than not, they lie, cheat, steal, and betray one another for personal gain." "You are too cynical." "I'm not cynical; I'm a realist." "Call it what you will," Sandy said, peering into the diner window, "You'll never have your fairy tale ending with that attitude." "Your mother read you too many hopeless stories as a child." "What do we have going on here?" "Sandy, really?" "Oh god, Amy, this isn't good." "What is it?" "They all have guns," Sandy said, "What the hell is going on?" "What are you talking about?" "The Grill Street Diner over on First and Third. Some men just entered the diner with guns and are holding the place up or something." "Or something?" "There are five men, but no one has hit the register." Sandy watched as one man stepped forward from the group and began talking to the customers who cowered in their booths and on their stools. He walked back and forth before taking a seat at the end of the counter. His men spread out around the diner, each taking a calculated position. One man sat in a booth facing the parking lot peering intensely out the window. As if clockwork a red compact pulled in. Alerting the man in charge, one last statement was made to the hostages, and they and the staff went about looking normal. "Sister, it's a trap." "Sandy, what are you talking about?" "She's walking into a trap." "Who?" "I don't know. I need to call the police." Disconnecting her call, Sandy dialed 911. "911 emergency," an operator answered. "There are five men with guns at the Grill Street Diner on First and Third, holding the customers and staff hostage. There is a woman tall, blonde, and very leggy going into the diner, and it looks like they have been waiting for her." "Can you tell me your name Ma'am and where you are?" "Sandy Peters. I'm up on the Four Winds Communication Telephone pole," Sandy gasped suddenly, "He just shot her!" "Ma'am, the police are on their way. Are you safe?" "Oh my god, it's a blood bath. They are shooting the other customers, and there is so much blood." "Can you describe the men, Sandy?" "They are all dead," Sandy said. "Sandy," the operator's voice was calm, "I need you to stay with me. Can you describe them?" Her eyes locked on the horror she witnessed. Her body began to sway. Tears streamed down her face as she lost her footing. Clutching the pole, Sandy struggled to breathe. "Sandy," the operator's voice faded into the background, "Sandy, are you okay?" "I need to get out of here," Sandy said, starting her descent. "Sandy, please just stay where you are." "No, I need to get out of here." Reaching her shaking leg down to the next step, her foot slipped, knocking her into the pole and bouncing her around. Sandy grabbed her harness and undid her clasp, hoping to quicken her retreat. Freeing herself from the restraint, she continued her descent. Unable to regain control over her trembling body, her sweaty palm slipped, causing her to lose footing. Sending her smashing into the hard ground below.
Prompts and Inspiration:
"Sister it's a trap. Go"
365 Creative Fantasy Writing Prompts
Author: C.H. Knyght
Character: Telephone Pole Climber Trait: Realist Location: Diner Counter
Roll-A-Prompt- writing Journal Horror edition
Authors: Melissa Banczak & Lisa Mahoney
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