I wrote this last night at like 2:30 3ish...I am entering it into a writing contest.

It was a sound that could make even the strongest of men shudder, a child crying for his dead mother. It makes you wanna reach out and hold them. Tell them it is going to be ok, but you can’t. You’re sitting behind a desk taking the call. You’re not at the scene and the cries just tear at your heart.

It was a Tuesday afternoon when I took the call. We’ve had calls with this couple before, but it was in the slums. It always seemed liked those people meant nothing. I guarantee if they had been rich, the police would have looked into the situation further, but they never did. Now it is too late.

When the child called, the fight was still going on. The parents were really into it. You could hear the sounds of his fist hitting her face. The child was sobbing into the phone for help, begging them to stop. I was able to calm him just enough to get his address.

I tried to keep him on the phone and out of the fight. Then a gun went off. The phone clattered loudly as it hit the floor. The child’s screams echoed across their small apartment. I had almost taken my headset off when I heard the police sirens finally. One of the officers had picked the phone back up by then and said they would handle it now that they were there.

I left work early that night. I couldn’t concentrate on any of the other calls. I kept hearing the child’s frantic cries for help. I barely slept that night. I was even tempted to call in sick the next day, but I didn’t.

A few of my coworkers had been there that night. They knew about the call. They looked as if they wanted to say something, but they didn’t even try. I guess they were all scared themselves. We were all shaken to the core.

Fortunately the day passed very quickly. There weren’t too many calls that night. The ones that did come through were mostly about rowdy drunks or teens racing cars. At one time, the boss came in and said a few words, although I can’t remember them now. I guess I was still in a state of shock.

The next three days passed the same. It was like I was there, I went through all the motions, but I was never truly there. My mind was elsewhere. People had to call my name 2-3 times to get my attention. Even then I was only half listening.

Later that night we got a routine call about an armed robbery. The detailed description of the suspect sounded so familiar. Nobody at the office could place him though. It took three officers to pin him. It turned out he was the child’s father. Everyone applauded his arrest and the mood in the office lifted.

A week later I quit my job. I never wanted to take another call like that again. I got rid of my gun and sold my house. I found a nice 1-bedroom apartment and moved there. The neighborhood is small and quiet. There are nights that I have nightmares though. They are always the same; they have the child’s mother and others like her. Haunting my dreams, dancing by the light of a blood red moon.