Forgotten Communications Read online

Page 2


  “Sam, this is Mrs. Seyfried, she can't use the stairs.” Deidre looked to her suitcase, then to Samuel and the old woman.

  “I can do this, Ms. Uhland”, Mrs. Seyfried tried to assure both of them, but it was clear, that her chances were low, looking at how hard she rested on the rollator in front of her.

  “Carry her, Sam. Please. Ignore the suitcase”, Deidre decided. Samuel admired her. He wasn't sure if he had chosen the old woman. This thought felt wrong to Samuel. Of course he would have chosen the person over the stuff, at least that's what his grandma thought him, hadn't she?

  “Is it okay for you, if I carry you?”, Samuel asked and Mrs. Seyfried nodded unhappy.

  He put the suitcase out-of-the-way, then closed the door, behind Mrs. Seyfried and raised her on his arms.

  “Go on, Deidre. It's starting to smell after smoke. Hurry.” Samuel took a moment to watch Deidre run down the stairs then started to carefully climb down the stairs, too. His feet felt sick. After a few stairs his stomach protested against the pressure of the woman in his arms. Other people were running down, woman carrying little, crying children, teenagers with a backpack. No men. Seems being a woman and children only house, Samuel thought, walking down slowly step by step. The smoke became denser and with each breath he inhaled not only the smoke but also the scent of the Cologne water Mrs. Seyfried used. His grandma had used the same and as always it made him feel sick. This time it fed his already sick feelings even more. Two floors later, Samuel gave up. He couldn't carry the woman any more, his stomach was twisting back and forth and he was afraid he would fall with her together down the stairs while vomiting over her the same time. Deidre was out of sight and hopefully already out of the house. The smoke was thicker here and seemed to come from the home at the left of the second floor where they sat.

  “Are you alright?”, Mrs. Seyfried asked Samuel.

  “No, sorry, I vomited half an hour ago. Your perfume makes me sick again.” Samuel dropped all politeness. He had no energy left to play polite. And what for, he thought, this woman was a stranger to him.

  “Then, let's walk. Can I rest on your shoulder at least?”, she asked. “I know, my perfume. I am grateful you brought me down here already. Just another floor and we are below the fire and can go slower”, she argumented and seemed friendlier than before to Samuel. He nodded.

  Samuel snatched himself up as much as possible and get back on his feet, lending his shoulder to her and holding her around her waist.

  One more step. One more step. Just one more step, he continued to repeat to himself silently and sat down again only half a floor later.

  “How about sliding down the stairs like children”, he suggested, already showing it to Mrs. Seyfried. Feet down, bottom down one stair and again.

  “Much better idea”, she agreed and did the same. She wasn't as fast as he was, but she managed to imitate him and he had to only help her put her bottom down the next step which allowed him a bit more distance.

  With each step the air got better and finally Samuel saw the front door where other people stood and came to help him and the old woman out of the house.

  Deidre looked to the door and watched how her neighbors ran out of the house. She saw the children she loved to read stories to on weekends and the mothers. As usual all the fathers were still at work. Most of them only returned on weekends. But Sam and Mrs. Seyfried was still missing. She started to walk up and down in front of the door. Should she go back? Find out if they were okay? Sure, Sam was slower with his burden and he surely felt sick. Maybe she could convince someone else to go back again?

  She looked at the house and the yellow and orange flames behind the windows in the second floor. Waiting for the firefighters.

  “Has anyone called the emergency line already?”, Deidre asked around.

  “Yes, did it when the fire alarm went off”, a neighbor answered, and Deidre was back to her thoughts and the waiting. There was nothing she could do with only one arm. She tried to stay back and wait with the others, remembering, that she had probably lost less than they had because she only had to look after herself and not after children of her own. The cold night started to crawl into the coat from Sam, she had thrown over and wasn't able to close on her own. So she held it closed with one hand. The coat smelled after him. Clean man and soap and cold air mixed with the scent of the fast food they brought with them in his car. At least he hadn't lost his clothes, Deidre thought.

  In the distance she heard the first sounds of the sirens when she saw two persons slide down the stairs inside the house. Sam had made it with Mrs. Seyfried. She felt happy and stepped back another step to let the other women help them come out the last steps. Then waited. Why were they sliding down? Were they hurt? She searched for the car keys in Sams coat to go get the first aid box from the car to help. With the key in her hand, both arrived next to her.

  “Thank you, Ms. Uhland for lending me your guest. I don't know how I would be here otherwise”, Mrs. Seyfried started.

  “Are you alright?”, Deidre asked back looking back and forth between the two. “Why were you sliding down instead of walking?” Her voice get a higher tone and she felt Sams hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her down.

  “We are alright, Deidre. Just couldn't carry her any longer, so we decided to go this way. Better to not inhale too much smoke”, Samuel added.

  Deidre took a deep breath.

  “I thought you had an accident”, she confessed. “Shall I get the first aid box from your car? Are you sure you are fine?” Now she looked only at Samuel.

  “I am fine. Feeling sick, wishing for a bed and a glass of water, but fine.”

  A glass burst and the flames lightened the path in front of the house. They ducked trying to protect themselves against the splinter of glass raining down.

  “Better get down to the street. I'll close the front door”, Samuel said and walked back.

  Deidre waved everyone to follow them. “Come on. We wait on the roadside for the firefighters. Better to not wait for more windows to burst”, Deidre explained to some. Everyone followed.

  Standing on the roadside, watching the blue light come nearer, Deidre leaned against Samuel.

  “Here, have your coat back. You are shivering.”

  “Thanks.” Samuel put it on and Deidre felt colder than only by the night. Then she felt the warm arms and the edges of the coat around her and his chest against her back and leaned back again. Much warmer now, and smiled.

  “Thank you for letting the mothers with their babies wait in your car. You're fuel tank will probably be empty until they find another warm place.”

  Samuel shrugged.

  “Doesn't matter. Babies become hypothermic too quick and suffer gravely from it. My fuel tank can be refilled again without problems. Where will you sleep tonight?”, he asked.

  Deidre had asked herself the same question and was on the verge of laughing out loud. Was it only a few minutes back, when she had asked herself the same question, only about him? Hadn't she tried to persuade herself that he could stay on her couch overnight until he felt better? Now, well, the couch wasn't an option any more and she had only her handbag with her purse and some stuff. Maybe she could find a hotel room for herself.

  “Don't know yet.”

  “Do you want to sleep in my hotel room? It's a double room with separate beds”, Samuel offered.

  “You're joking, aren't you?” Deidre turned around in his arms, trying to look into his face, but the light was flickering from the fire behind him and the blue light coming closer from behind her. She couldn't read in his eyes. Taking his offer was the easiest option and her hand started to hurt more and more from the cold outside.

  “Yes, thank you”, Deidre accepted his offer.

  Maybe I can learn something new about him and understand him better, she thought. Then the firefighters arrived and she had other things to think about first.

  THE END

  Extract from: Postcard from a warmer Placer />
  Karola Schmidt turned the postcard between her cold fingers. On the image side there was a beautiful, star shaped island with pink flowering cherry trees. They encircled the tips of the star. On the back, her sister Laura wrote, that the image showed the first international port of Japan: Hokkaido.

  Surely it was warmer in Hokkaido during spring than in her office today.

  Karola leaned the postcard against the foot of her computer screen, standing at the back side of her wooden brown desk at work. She had to stretch her arms a bit to reach the screen. The arms of her pullover slipped upwards as she stretched her arms some more to make the postcard stand perfectly upright. Goosebumps formed on her lower arms. The heater was malfunctioning after a trainee had turned it down to let in fresh air. One didn't touch the heater in this office building from the nineteen-sixties! Turning the heater back on hadn't worked.

  She pulled her sleeves back down. The janitor hadn't been available the whole day to even look at their heater issue. The ice on the window side of the office already filled half of the glass.

  Karola let her sight roam through the room. Bare white walls, four pairs of desks opposite each other. Five of the other seven chairs were covered by colleagues who wore their jackets to stay warm. The last one was standing, his table lifted, Thomas. They all had tables that could easily be changed in height to accommodate to modern aspects of different sitting and standing positions during their workdays.

  Modern mumbo-jumbo in her opinion. She always sat behind her desk. Besides, her feet wouldn't make it through a day of standing. With eight centimeter heels, thin as her pencil, this wasn't possible. Despite that, she adored her black shoes with the red heart on their tips. They gave her something courageous, something different in the gray-white-black office world dominated by men.

  End of the extract "Postcard from a warmer Place" by Topaz Hauyn

  More Titles of Topaz Hauyn

  Fantasy

  Beaten Path in the Mist

  Vampire Hunting with the Tiger Eye

  Marlene's New Monster (Monster Commercial Series)

  Remorse of the Mermaid

  Wipe off the Dust (Talking Sword Series)

  The Book Burning

  Romance

  World Cup and Pink Ropes

  An Invitation to a Wedding

  Corrupted Food Storage

  Dance to your Love

  Fighting the Cinnamon Guy

  Forgotten Communications

  Science Fiction

  Abandonned Time Travel

  Alien Visit

  Coloring an Apple

  Corrupted Food Storage

  Dicovery (Flying Worlds Series)

  Red: #890000

  Served like red Wine

  Shards of her Life

  Contemporary

  The Curses of Operating Systems

  Firefighter Dressed Wrong

  Habits burning in the Solar Eclipse

  Wild Majoram

  The Rags of an Orphan

  Architecture Impress

  An Authors first Success

  Postcard from a warmer Place

  The Meeting Contact

  About the Author

  Topaz Hauyn wrote a multitude of short stories over the years. She tells stories since her childhood. Now she explores the waters of novel writing.

  She writes at the hours between the days. Dragons breath, fight and live in the universe making it livable for stories over all genres. Sailing vessels in science fiction stories, yarns of hidden dreams and a touch of romance are what make her stories fun to read.

  Discover a new reality in the stories and tales of Topaz Hauyn: https://www.topazhauyn.com

  Newsletter

  Read first about the latest books from Topaz.

  Sign up to the newsletter at:

  https://www.topazhauyn.com

  Impressum

  Text @ Topaz Hauyn, c/o Lösche, Lehenbühlstr. 55, 71272 Renningen, Germany, [email protected]

  Images @ Julia_Tim/depositphotos.com

  Cover @ Topaz Hauyn

  All rights reserved.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.