first page- AaronT

            When Mikhael entered his room the phone was ringing. It wasn’t a grand noise, although in truth it wasn’t a grand phone, the whole apartment was on the rundown side. The drapes gave off a scent that most would categorize as hard to describe, all the chairs squeaked as if someone had put an entire family of mice in them, the kitchen never well stocked, and the lights always dim, when they worked. The man who inhabited these rooms matched them well, his threadbare coat a colour that no dye could produce, his shoes showing signs of overwork, even his hat, a flat rag of a thing, looked as if it had seen better days.

            The reason any of this was surprising was who was on the phone.

“Hello”

“Hello” said a voice known throughout the world. A voice that had proudly rallied nations to battle, and instituted a new world order. This was the voice of a man who could have buildings, countries, men built and destroyed.

“Comrade” strangled out Mikhael. Then immediately aghast at his poor response, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Mikhael do you know who this is?” asked the voice.

“Of course comrade, who wouldn’t” and indeed this was a voice known the world over. A voice more familiar to most than “the pledge of allegiance”, this voice so well known, yet so few had ever heard it spoken to them, only over the radio waves, through television, through fervently proclaimed quotes had they heard the words uttered by this voice, and yet Mikhael knew it.

“Do you know why I am calling you comrade?”

“ I must admit sir, that I do not, in fact if I were to guess at the recipient of one of your calls, I believe my name would be among the last” Mikhael stuttered

“Mikhael do not let any one ever say you are not well spoken.” Chuckled the voice

“I’m sorry… I do not understand” Mikhael chocked out after attempting to wrap a severely shock addled mind around this seemingly alien speech pattern which now confronted him”

“your speech comrade, it is very well thought out, you have a way with words, you have a gift Mikhael. Though I suppose that is normal for an author”

“I’m sorry comrade but you have me mistaken, I am no author. The farthest from it in fact” trilled Mikhael as he began to clutch at a familiar concept. “I am the simplest of factory workers, I do one job, a simple job for a simple pay, and at the end of the day I can say that I have worked in benefit of the nation, nay the world”

“Come, come Mikhael, do you think me stupid?” after a long pause the voice continued, “ with my recourses do you honestly think I do not already know who you are? What you have done? What the great Mikhael Katsenbogen had written and accomplished?”