Short Stories

Witching Hour SOS

I wrote this as an experimental piece for Uni, in which part of it was in Morse code.
I'm going to post this with the morse code and then the writing bellow. (What the reader would have had to do was follow a link to be able to dephicer the Morse code to properly read the story.

It was five to witching hour when David woke from a noise on his desk. If it had been a few weeks earlier he would have been terrified of the noise; it was so fast and consistent it could have been mistaken for an electronic hum. David flicked the covers off himself and slid straight into his chair, rolling it up beside the desk. He fumbled for the desk lamps switch while he grazed his palm against the wood in the dark to find a pen. The light was on. A pen in his hand. The noise, a continuous buzzing, stopping in certain intervals. David had waited for days.

-.. .- ...- .. -.. ·-·-·- -.. .- ...- .. -.. ·-·-·- .- .-. . -.-- --- ..- - .... . .-. . ··--·· .. -- ... --- .-. .-. -.-- ·-·-·- .. ..-. ..- -.-. -.- . -.. ..- .--. ·-·-·- .. -- ... --- ... --- .-. .-. -.-- ·-·-·- -.. .- ...- .. -.. ·-·-·- -.. .- ...- .. -.. ·-·-·- -.. .- ...- .. -.. ·-·-·- .- .-. . -.-- --- ..- - .... . .-. . ··--·· ..-. ..- -.-. -.- ·-·-·- .. -- ... --- .-. .-. -.-- ·-·-·-

Translation: david.????david.????are????you????there?????im????sorry.????i????fucked????up.????im????so????sorry.????david.????david.????david.????are????you????there?????fuck.????im????sorry?

David dropped his pen and his finger hovered over a clicker that sat on the desk. He waited for the noise to come to a halt.

-- .. .-.. .-.. -.-- ·-·-·- .. -- .- .-- .- -.- . ·-·-·-

Translation: milly.????im????awake?

There was a pause.

-.. .- ...- .. -.. ·-·-·- .. -- ... --- .-. .-. -.-- ·-·-·- .. .-- .- ... -. - - .... .. -. -.- .. -. --. ·-·-·- .. -- .. ... ... - .- .-.. -.- .. -. --. - --- -.-- --- ..- ·-·-·-

david.????im????sorry.????i????wasnt????thinking.????i????miss????talking????to????you?

David didn't know how to answer. He was upset in the way he wanted to continue to be upset, but he missed Milly. It had been a week, and he missed her.

-.. .- ...- .. -..

david

-.-- . .- .... ··--··

yeah?

.. -- ... --- ... --- .-. .-. -.-- ·-·-·- .. -- ... ..- -.-. .... .- -. .. -.. .. --- - ·-·-·- .. -.. --- -. - -.- -. --- .-- .-- .... . .-. . - --- -... . --. .. -. ·-·-·- .. .... ..- .-. - -.-- --- ..- ·-·-·- .- -. -.. .. .-. . .- .-.. .. ... . .. -.. --- -. - -.. . ... . .-. ...- . -.-- --- ..- ·-·-·- -.-- --- ..- .... .- ...- . -.. --- -. . ... --- -- ..- -.-. .... ..-. --- .-. -- . ·-·-·- -.-. .- -. -.-- --- ..- ..-. --- .-. --. .. ...- . -- . ··--·· . ...- . .-. ··--·· .. -- .. ... ... -.-- --- ..- ·-·-·-

imsosorry.imsuchanidiot.idontknowwheretobegin.ihurtyou.andirealiseidontdeserveyou.youhavedonesomuchforme.canyouforgiveme?ever?imissyou.

David's hand was nowhere near the clicker, it was grasping his face, becoming a pool for his tears. God, he missed Milly. He dropped his body against the desk, his head wrapped in his arms. He missed her. He missed her. He missed her. He was so upset. He was angry at her. But how could he? How could he be angry at someone like Milly? But she had hurt him, and he wanted to dwell in it. He wanted to feel more pain, to remind himself that he got too close to someone. He wanted to dwell in this sadness, he wanted Milly to pity him. He wanted Milly to feel terrible for how she treated him. David cried against the wooden desk, quietly, his voice making low murmurs of despair. David wished he could jump off a bridge. To not have to deal with these problems anymore. He didn't wipe the tears from his eyes when he looked at the clicker. David missed Milly. There was no denying that. David was so angry at her, but he couldn't admit it was anger, how could it be anger when he cared for her so much. The silence between them was long.

It was 45 minutes into witching hour when David's finger swept over the clicker.

--. . - .-.. --- ... - ·-·-·-

getlost.