FICTION FRIDAY The Wind Phone “Hey Mick, I remember all the times at the parties at your place when you’d get out your old motorcycle helmet and you’d jimmied a piece of dowel on top, this small makeshift post, and you’d bung a whole pile of catherine wheels on it, light the sucker up and walk into the middle of the circle while it spat colourful bolts of fire in this kaleidoscopic circle of frenzied chaos. And you’d be there pissing yourself laughing, safe from harm, completely sober; you never touched booze or smokes or anything. We all took refuge behind whatever, or whoever we could. You’d be smiling like the Cheshire cat, usually only wearing your jocks. Once you were naked and we all feared you’d lose your pubes to a stray bolt of firework and from that time we took it in turns to buy you a 7-pack of undies from K-mart for Christmas. Why did you have creases in your jeans like they were old man slacks from Lowes?” He slowly moved the telephone away from his ear, wiped his spit from the mouthpiece and replaced the receiver into the cradle. The cradle accepted the phone as receiving a solemn gift, sinking to a final click. Around him in the telephone booth, the air was still, like a held breath. As he exhaled he opened the door and closed it gently, knowing the end of the door’s trajectory was the end of the conversation.
The wind phone (風の電話, kaze no denwa) is an unconnected telephone booth in Ōtsuchi, Iwate Prefecture, Japan, where visitors can hold one-way conversations with deceased loved ones. It was initially created by garden designer Itaru Sasaki in 2010 to help him cope with his cousin’s death.
A Fullness in Brevity - Adam Byatt 