What She Said
This is for Raymond G Taylor's "Oh Jeff, I Love You Too But.." Challenge
Introduction
This is for Raymond G Taylor's "Oh Jeff, I Love You Too But.." Challenge based on the detail from the Lichtenstein painting and you can read about it and enter below
The music is Tracey Ullman's cover of the Kirsty McColl song "You Broke My Heart In Seventeen Places (Shepherd's Bush Was Only One)"
This is just a light-hearted piece inspired by the challenge and the song.
What She Said
"Oh, Jeff... I love you too... but..."
Ah, but what? she's got my name wrong again (it is Mike), there's always someone better than me. I just took her for a weekend in Monaco, cost me a fortune, all champagne and caviar and a penthouse suite.
No sex, of course, she always had an excuse, headache, tired, and then stayed up all night watching her favourite soaps.
And now we're back she has something (probably someone) more important than me, but I know she will be back when I have my next weekend in Paris or Berlin, the I will be her true love until we touch down at the airport again.
Maybe I should go back to New York and stay there and delete her from my contacts.
I am sure someone loves me, somewhere.
As Felix Dennis once said (though I may be wrong here),
"When You Become Rich, You Cannot Make New Friends"
Though I will never follow that because I do, rightly or wrongly, trust people
About the Creator
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The Message I Received at 3:17 AM That Changed Everything
It was 3:17 AM when my phone buzzed. I wasnāt expecting any messages at this hour, and yet, there it wasāa notification that made my heart skip a beat. The senderās number was unfamiliar, a string of digits that didnāt seem to exist. At first, I thought it was a prank or a wrong number. But as I stared at the screen, a shiver ran down my spine. The night was silent except for the faint hum of my air conditioner. I had been reading on the couch, a cup of coffee growing cold beside me, when the message arrived. The glow from the phone screen illuminated my face in the otherwise dark room, and the words on it were simple, yet terrifying: āI know what you did.ā My first reaction was disbelief. Who could know? And what exactly did they mean? I quickly checked my call log, my messages, even my social mediaābut nothing seemed out of place. My mind raced through every memory, every small secret I thought I had buried safely. Nothing made sense. I tried to brush it off. Maybe it was just a spam message, or someone trying to scare me. But deep down, I couldnāt shake the unease. Another buzz. Another message. āCheck the drawer under your desk.ā I froze. My desk. The one place I kept my old journals, letters, and random keepsakes. Hesitation gripped me, but curiosity got the better of fear. I walked over to the desk, my steps slow and deliberate, trying to avoid making a sound. The drawers were ordinary, the top one containing my stationery. But the second drawerā¦ it was slightly open. I hadnāt left it that way. My hands trembled as I pulled it fully open. Inside was an envelope, yellowed with age, no name on it, no stamp. Just my initials written in hurried handwriting. I picked it up, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst from my chest. The envelope contained a single sheet of paper. The handwriting was familiarāit was my own. I had no memory of writing this letter, yet reading it sent chills through me. The message inside described events from a week ago, tiny choices I had made, conversations I had forgottenā¦ and ended with a warning: āIf you ignore this, everything will be revealed.ā Panic set in. I checked the room again. Every light, every corner, every shadow seemed alive. The air felt heavier, as if something unseen was watching me. My phone buzzed again, this time with a single word: āNow.ā I didnāt know what to do. Should I call the police? Should I delete everything? My instincts screamed to run, but I couldnāt leave the envelope behind. Something about it demanded attention, a silent command that I couldnāt ignore. Slowly, I unfolded the paper again. The words seemed to shift, almost as if the letter itself were alive. Memories I had blocked came rushing backāthe lie I told my best friend, the small theft at a local store I thought no one noticed, the message I sent to someone I shouldnāt have. All of it documented here, perfectly detailed. How was this possible? How could anyone know so much? Suddenly, the roomās temperature dropped. My breath became visible in the faint light of the phone. I thought I saw a shadow move in the corner of my eye, but when I turned, nothing was there. My phone buzzed once more. Another message: āYou canāt hide anymore.ā Fear turned into a strange clarity. I realized that this was more than a threatāit was a reflection. The envelope, the messages, the unknown senderā¦ it wasnāt about someone else. It was about me. About the parts of myself I had ignored, the secrets I thought I could bury, and the truth I had avoided facing. I spent the rest of the night going through everything I had ever hidden, every journal, every memory, every tiny choice that made me who I was. By morning, I felt exhausted but different. The fear hadnāt disappeared, but it had shifted into understanding. I couldnāt change the past, but I could face itāand maybe, just maybe, write a better future. To this day, I donāt know who sent the first message at 3:17 AM. Some nights, I still feel the chill when my phone buzzes, a reminder that the past never truly leaves us. But I also know this: sometimes, the scariest messages lead to the most important revelations. And every time I think Iāve escaped my past, I check my phoneā¦ just in case.
By Baseer Shaheen about an hour ago in Fiction
Comments (12)
Please forgive the clumsy cut and paste. I would like to publish your entry (or entries) to the Oh-Jeff challenge in an upcoming book and of course need your permission to do so. Details are all here: https://promotion-survey.today/writers/oh-jeff-the-book%3C/span%3E%3C/span%3E%3C/span%3E%3C/a%3E Thanks, Ray
That was great. Poor Mike. Well done.
Awesome humorous microfiction story!!! Fun and entertaining!!!ā¤ļøā¤ļøš
Nope, when rich you make lots of friends, just not true friends, unless you get lucky. Hope u r rich and lucky.
Trust no one, that's my policy. But do I I follow it? Nope š¤£š¤£š¤£š¤£š¤£ Loved your story!
This was a different take on this story. Great work.
first off laughed with the wrong name... then the reality of that poor ( not poor, rich) person being abused was not funny
OMG! That was so funny! What a great spin.....it's Mike! Hahahaha
Outstanding! Go Mike! šŖš¾
I like your unique take on this Challenge by Raymond. I had fun reading these stories.
Great story and with added a/v from the wonderful Tracey Ullman. Sad reminder of Kirsty McColl's tragic young death too. I met Kirsty in Croydon in the 70s when she was playing with a not-very memorable punk group. Good to read a story that sticks up for Jeff (or Mike) too!
From the perspective of the guy! Yes, we probably shouldn't have such types in our address books.