1 views
Morse Code
Click. Click. Click.
“Stop it,” Greta hissed, hearing the annoying repeated click of a pen. And of course, it was her sister, who she was forced to sit next to in history class due to the dreaded alphabetical order.
Patty rolled her eyes, slumped over on her desk, and clicked-clicked-clicked.
“Greta Banks,” the teacher warned. “Check that attitude before you get detention.”
“I’m Greta,” Greta clarified. “That’s Patricia.”
“Whatever, both of you need to be quiet,” the teacher demanded.
“I didn’t do anything,” Greta protested. Meanwhile, Patty still clicked that stupid pen. Greta snatched it from her and stuffed it in her pencil pouch.
“Now then,” the teacher said as she turned to the whiteboard and went on about Alexander the Great.”
Pat. Pat. Pat.
Greta grinded her teeth in the midst of taking notes when she heard Patty beating on her desk. “Knock it off,” Greta moaned.
“Miss Banks,” the teacher snapped. “If you don’t stop disrupting class, I will send you to the office.”
Greta snickered, glad Patricia got recognized.
“Don’t laugh, young lady,” she ranted. “I’ll do it. I’ll do it right now.”
“But it’s not me,” Greta pleaded.
“Office. Now.”
Greta groaned and grabbed her notebook. She marched to the door and Patty tapped on her sister’s desk.
“You go too, little miss tiptap.”
Greta and Patty sat outside the office doors, Greta more mad than Patty, who wasn’t mad at all. After a long awkward silence, Patty tapped her foot on the floor in a peculiar rhythm.
It went: .. / .- -- / … --- .-. .-. -.--
“You should be. You always get me in trouble,” Greta growled.
.. / .--- ..- … - / .-- .- -. - / - --- / - .- .-.. -.-- / - --- / -.-- — .--
“Can’t it wait until after school?” Greta moaned. “You are so weird.”
.. / .- -- / … --- .-. .-. -.--
“Whatever, just stop it.” Greta turned away from her sister, who sat depressingly.
.-- .. .-.. .-.. / -.. .- -.. / -.-. --- -- . / -... .- -.-. -.-
Greta moaned. “I don’t know. Maybe.” Greta sighed. “I’m sorry. I know it’s been tough, especially for you,” she thought. “If you want to talk, I’ll listen.”
- …. .- -. -.- / -.-- --- ..-
Patty and Greta were ushered into the office, where Greta explained everything. There were a few questionable stares, but communication came in a variety of languages. Some you just need to learn.
“Stop it,” Greta hissed, hearing the annoying repeated click of a pen. And of course, it was her sister, who she was forced to sit next to in history class due to the dreaded alphabetical order.
Patty rolled her eyes, slumped over on her desk, and clicked-clicked-clicked.
“Greta Banks,” the teacher warned. “Check that attitude before you get detention.”
“I’m Greta,” Greta clarified. “That’s Patricia.”
“Whatever, both of you need to be quiet,” the teacher demanded.
“I didn’t do anything,” Greta protested. Meanwhile, Patty still clicked that stupid pen. Greta snatched it from her and stuffed it in her pencil pouch.
“Now then,” the teacher said as she turned to the whiteboard and went on about Alexander the Great.”
Pat. Pat. Pat.
Greta grinded her teeth in the midst of taking notes when she heard Patty beating on her desk. “Knock it off,” Greta moaned.
“Miss Banks,” the teacher snapped. “If you don’t stop disrupting class, I will send you to the office.”
Greta snickered, glad Patricia got recognized.
“Don’t laugh, young lady,” she ranted. “I’ll do it. I’ll do it right now.”
“But it’s not me,” Greta pleaded.
“Office. Now.”
Greta groaned and grabbed her notebook. She marched to the door and Patty tapped on her sister’s desk.
“You go too, little miss tiptap.”
Greta and Patty sat outside the office doors, Greta more mad than Patty, who wasn’t mad at all. After a long awkward silence, Patty tapped her foot on the floor in a peculiar rhythm.
It went: .. / .- -- / … --- .-. .-. -.--
“You should be. You always get me in trouble,” Greta growled.
.. / .--- ..- … - / .-- .- -. - / - --- / - .- .-.. -.-- / - --- / -.-- — .--
“Can’t it wait until after school?” Greta moaned. “You are so weird.”
.. / .- -- / … --- .-. .-. -.--
“Whatever, just stop it.” Greta turned away from her sister, who sat depressingly.
.-- .. .-.. .-.. / -.. .- -.. / -.-. --- -- . / -... .- -.-. -.-
Greta moaned. “I don’t know. Maybe.” Greta sighed. “I’m sorry. I know it’s been tough, especially for you,” she thought. “If you want to talk, I’ll listen.”
- …. .- -. -.- / -.-- --- ..-
Patty and Greta were ushered into the office, where Greta explained everything. There were a few questionable stares, but communication came in a variety of languages. Some you just need to learn.
