You’re at a cool pub and you make eye contact with a great looking guy, you scan him from top to bottom from whatever is visible at the distance, he reaches out to his pocket and takes out a shiny black device. Your eyes almost pop out in amazement, it’s huge. The guy has a phone with a large touchscreen, it could either be an iPhone or an Android. You just wish you could spare an eyeball on his sexy hair style when all you can do is stare endlessly at his phone.
He notices your attention and decides to take a chance. As he moves towards you, your heart starts pounding heavily. You’re almost out of breath when he asks if he can buy you a drink. You’re affirmative and the bartender hands you a drink in no time. He sits right next to you while still playing with his phone. Your mind is still busy making sense of those icons flashing on his screen. ‘Is that Angry Birds he’s playing?’, you ask yourself.
You’re yet to engage with him in a conversation, it’s only been a minute so far and yet it feels like an eternity. You move your head closer to make out which phone this guy is carrying and right then he bangs you with a greeting. What a waste. You reply back quickly, without a smile, a continue to hunt for some clue that will help you make out which phone it really is.
A round of conversations and another round of drinks follow. Your head is still spinning, not from the alcohol but the smartphone. Someone is playing games with your head and you’re just too desperate to make out which phone it really is. It looks like a great smartphone. You decide to take up the challenge and let your lips do all the work – ‘What phone are you carrying?’, you ask. He takes a proud look at his phone and brings his hand closer to you. Seconds seem like a decade, you just cannot wait any further. It’s right there in front of you but your eyes are acting up, you resist but the eye lids win over your desire.
Your eyes open and you find yourself in a dingy little room filled with filthy old newspapers and ragged clothes. Your hands are tied to the bed and so are your feet. You have no clothes on you, just a smelly little cover of a really old blanket. You tell yourself you’re in a really bad dream, that you went home after a few drinks at the bar and all this is just not happening.
All of a sudden the guy you saw at the bar appears. He’s holding the same smartphone you saw at the bar. Your mind is tempted but you can’t feel your lips. He takes out his smartphone and points at you while you ask yourself how could you fall into a trap such as this. He smiles. Camera flashes. Flash. Flash. You feel you’ve been hit by a bullet. The blanket covering you is now covered with your own blood, you realize you can’t even feel your stomach. You cannot even cry. Your eyes are slowly closing, you gather enough energy to spit out your last words, ‘Now that’s a killer smartphone, baby!’.
Article by Harry
Harry has written 467 awesome articles on HarryJerry.com.
About: ...an engineering student, a freelancer, a professional blogger, a loving lover, too shy, an Internet freak....and everything I shouldn't be.
|
|
Tags: inspiration, short story, smartphone