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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Drama / Human Interest
- Subject: Flash / Mini / Very Short
- Published: 02/15/2019
A Typewriter’s Journey
Judy was a young teenager when she first bought me. She was trying to become a writer. She used me to type up her stories. Once she finished typing them, she’d read them out loud to see how they sounded.
Eventually, she grew up and got a computer. That’s when she put me on a shelf. It made my ribbon droop as I sat there while she used her computer to create her stories, but at least, I still had the pleasure of hearing her read her stories out loud. They seemed to be getting better and better.
And then one day, to my horror, Judy brought me to a Goodwill store. No! No, Judy! Don’t send me away. But she did anyway!
After she abandoned me, another little girl bought me so she could learn how to type. Once she got good at typing, she talked her mother into buying her a computer, too. Then she returned me once again to the Goodwill store, where next, I was bought by an elderly gentleman. I heard him say he used to teach typing to grownups, but now, instead of using me to type up letters and such, he just placed me on the small table in front of his couch, so he could see me whenever he watched TV. His fingers were too gnarled to type anymore.
After he died, his daughter came and got me along with all the rest of his things, and put me in a garage, where every day, plumes of dust settled all over me. Pretty soon, all my parts were caked with dust and spider webs. Then one day, I was taken to a typewriter repair shop, where I sat around some more. At least I had other typewriters to keep me company.
The owner of the shop would often come into the room where I was, and take one of the other typewriters away with him. Most of the time, I never saw them again. Then one day, he came and got me. My inners trembling, I wondered what was going to happen to me? After removing several of my parts, he put me back on the shelf, leaving me to feel all empty inside.
There I sat, collecting more dust, until a teenage boy came to my rescue. Before taking me home, the boy had the man replace all of the parts he had previously removed.
It turned out the boy also had a computer, but he said he liked the sound my keys made when he typed. That made me very happy, especially when I learned that the boy, whose name was Kevin, was also trying to become a writer—a poet in fact. To practice being a poet, Kevin would often set me on a wooden box in front of the local book store and type poems for people, charging them a dollar each time. Once again, I felt useful.
And then one day a woman and her young daughter came by. While the boy typed, I got a good look at the young girl’s mother. It was Judy—all grown up! I was so happy, I made sure that every letter the boy typed was crisp and clean! And then Judy recognized me. A huge smile spread across her face. She told the boy that his typewriter had been hers at one time.
Now, almost every day, Judy’s daughter comes by the book store to watch the boy type, and learn what she can about becoming a poet.
Just knowing its Judy’s daughter, makes me feel as if I never left home.
A Typewriter's Journey(Tom Di Roma)
A Typewriter’s Journey
Judy was a young teenager when she first bought me. She was trying to become a writer. She used me to type up her stories. Once she finished typing them, she’d read them out loud to see how they sounded.
Eventually, she grew up and got a computer. That’s when she put me on a shelf. It made my ribbon droop as I sat there while she used her computer to create her stories, but at least, I still had the pleasure of hearing her read her stories out loud. They seemed to be getting better and better.
And then one day, to my horror, Judy brought me to a Goodwill store. No! No, Judy! Don’t send me away. But she did anyway!
After she abandoned me, another little girl bought me so she could learn how to type. Once she got good at typing, she talked her mother into buying her a computer, too. Then she returned me once again to the Goodwill store, where next, I was bought by an elderly gentleman. I heard him say he used to teach typing to grownups, but now, instead of using me to type up letters and such, he just placed me on the small table in front of his couch, so he could see me whenever he watched TV. His fingers were too gnarled to type anymore.
After he died, his daughter came and got me along with all the rest of his things, and put me in a garage, where every day, plumes of dust settled all over me. Pretty soon, all my parts were caked with dust and spider webs. Then one day, I was taken to a typewriter repair shop, where I sat around some more. At least I had other typewriters to keep me company.
The owner of the shop would often come into the room where I was, and take one of the other typewriters away with him. Most of the time, I never saw them again. Then one day, he came and got me. My inners trembling, I wondered what was going to happen to me? After removing several of my parts, he put me back on the shelf, leaving me to feel all empty inside.
There I sat, collecting more dust, until a teenage boy came to my rescue. Before taking me home, the boy had the man replace all of the parts he had previously removed.
It turned out the boy also had a computer, but he said he liked the sound my keys made when he typed. That made me very happy, especially when I learned that the boy, whose name was Kevin, was also trying to become a writer—a poet in fact. To practice being a poet, Kevin would often set me on a wooden box in front of the local book store and type poems for people, charging them a dollar each time. Once again, I felt useful.
And then one day a woman and her young daughter came by. While the boy typed, I got a good look at the young girl’s mother. It was Judy—all grown up! I was so happy, I made sure that every letter the boy typed was crisp and clean! And then Judy recognized me. A huge smile spread across her face. She told the boy that his typewriter had been hers at one time.
Now, almost every day, Judy’s daughter comes by the book store to watch the boy type, and learn what she can about becoming a poet.
Just knowing its Judy’s daughter, makes me feel as if I never left home.
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