I posted a challenge on the message board at Lara's Den yesterday morning and invited anyone who wished to compose a poem or a few paragraphs of prose. This in the challenge and these are the responses:
Challenge: Twenty-three pairs of eyes watched and the next morning an article, along with a black-and-white photograph, appeared in the newspaper.
It was black as pitch on the country road. Even when the trees thinned and an open meadow appeared on the right, there was no moonlight at all. The Sniders were returning from visiting their daughter and son-in-law thirty miles away. They agreed that they had overstayed their welcome, but a full meal followed by a couple of glasses of wine settled like ships ballast. They could hardly lift themselves from their seats. Finally, after their daughter went upstairs, turned on a hall light, and came back to the dining room, they took the hint.
All at once, the road ahead became brightly lit. Several cars in front of them suddenly flashed brake lights. They had to stop to avoid a chain reaction pile-up. Uncertain what caused these cars to stop, they stared through the windshield into the brightness ahead of them. Marsha turned to Charlie and said, “What is it? Where did the light come from?”
Charlie answered, “Beats me.” He rolled down the window and stuck his head out, trying to see what was going on ahead. The driver’s door of the car immediately in front of him opened and a gray haired fellow got out and stood by the car, peering ahead. Charlie opened his door and got out, too. Marsha got out the passenger side and stood at the top of a grassy ditch.
From their vantage point, they could see about a dozen cars lined up in front of them, with almost twice that number of people standing around, gazing into the illuminated distance. The light nearly blinded them, but they continued to stare. A few braver souls began walking toward the light source a couple of hundred yards ahead.
Charlie and Marsha started moving, as well, at first timidly, then picking up the pace to remain with the pack of people. At a selected point, where the first couple had stopped, everyone came to a halt. Silently, they watched an incredible sight before them, on the hilly side of the road. From what appeared to be a cavern, bathed in unexplainable light, an almost nude man was working strenuously to roll a huge stone aside, as he tried to squeeze out of the cave entrance. Spellbound, the crowd watched in amazement.
Then, from where it had been quietly hovering in the heavens, a massive, saucer-shaped vehicle suddenly, and without noise or warning, dropped to within a foot of the hilltop. Oblivious to the onlookers, the man exited the cave, and in a few short strides, ran to and entered the open door of the craft. In a split second, the saucer vanished into the night sky, and darkness returned.
Twenty-three pairs of eyes watched it all, and the next morning an article, along with a black and white photograph, appeared in the newspaper. Inexplicably, this happened last Easter Sunday.
© By RickMack (Rmrickmack@aol.com)
Twenty-three Pairs Of Eyes
Twenty-three pair of eyes
Watched the parade pass
Engrossed as they were
Watching the pretty lass
She sat upon her throne
Wearing a gown of white
She was the parade's queen
But only for that night
While they watched the fun
A pickpocket came along
Stealing from the pockets
Of the crowds big throng
It wasn't until later that
They discoverd a wrong
That was when they found
All their money was gone
Cries went up quite loud
telling of their sad woe
Wondering who he was
That dastardly fellow
But he was easy to spot
And the cops took him in
He was the only person
In the crowd with a grin
© By Sharon (Sunyskys1943@aol.com)
Twenty-three Pairs Of Eyes
The picture in the paper showed a man in his early fifties with a huge smile, twinkling eyes and a full head of dark hair. The article asked, "Have you seen this man?" It went on to tell the story of the man who had been living in the woods behind the local supermarket.
He had been there for many years and avoided people.
He would come into the supermarket once a month, just before it closed to buy food. No one even knew his name and he never talked to anyone even when they asked things like, "Paper or Plastic?....Hot enough for ya today?...How about those Red Sox?" The most they got was a grunt. Only a few people knew that he lived in a shack in the woods that looked like it was built out of boxes and plastic bags. The young boys used to dare each other to go back there. And then run away when he came out.
After living back there for who knows how long, the supermarket had sold the property. When the bulldozers showed up they saw the shack and proceeded to knock it down. They thought it was something that kids had built for a fort.
As the bulldozers leveled the shack, the men saw an awful lot of papers blowing around. One of them bent over and picked one up. He jumped up and down yelling, "Hold it, hold it! Don't move anything! Look at this!" The other twenty two men ran over to him to see what had him so excited.
He was holding a handful of British pound notes. They had different number values on them and none of them smaller than '500'. One of the dozer drivers reached out and took one. "This is the real deal! I was stationed over in England for a while and this is genuine money! I think we need to look at this shack a little harder before we run it into the landscape."
Several hours went by and they were still finding money.
German Deutschmarks, Japanese Yen, Russian Rubles, Kroners, Rands, Pesos......The odd thing was, no American Dollars. After figuring out how much was there and dividing it between all twenty three of them they decided that they would put some of the money in a bag and take it to the police. Naturally, they wouldn't mention the few souvenirs they had taken. They would wait a while and then take the bus into NYC and deal with the banks there that would change the foreign bills for the good old Yankee Dollar!
When the police showed up and the detectives came along with the yellow crime tape, the newspapers had arrived. The TV trucks were on the way. No sign of the man who lived in the shack. They had found a picture in the debris from the shack and asked the newspaper to publish it asking for information.
Twenty three pairs of eyes were twinkling that night.
One pair of eyes was sitting in the bus station waiting for the Greyhound to Key West. He had a bald head now and he wouldn't have even recognized the picture that ran in the paper. It had been taken when he was only 52, about 40 years ago. That was when he had arrived in New Jersey. He had been an expert forger and had made a lot of cash from his "Hobby". It was much easier to pass off foreign money here than to try to make a U.S. dollar bill. He had enough money on him to live comfortably in the few years he figured he had left. Couldn't take an airplane or even a train these days. Only I.D. he had was a fake Social Security card made out to "Jack Doe". See, the best way to keep a secret? Don't tell ANYBODY!
© By Swampetta (SWAMPETTA@aol.com)
Twenty-three Pairs Of Eyes
With bleary eyes, Chuck lumbered down his sidewalk to pick up the New York Rag. There it was, in black and white: "Have you seen this man?" read the headline.
Chuck's picture with his black-and-white Dalmation, and with a white sack around his neck, were coming out of the Old Pensioner's Bank!
Well, that put his bleary eyes on toothpicks!
The article under the caption read: "This bank robber was seen using his dog to carry $100,000 in marked bills. Cindy Lou, the teller, reported that he had placed a note in her window demanding $100,000 in cash. He didn't seem to have a gun, but had one hand in his pocket. Cindy stepped on the emergency button but gave him the money as he requested, according to her story. He just 'sauntered out the door,' she told detectives. The robber was caught in one of our newest high tech cameras on a street light. Twenty three of these have now been installed on our streets, giving law enforcement officers 23 extra pairs of eyes. [a new project named 'eyes on a stick'] If you recognize the person in this picture, consider him armed and dangerous and call 911. Do not try to capture him yourself."
Screaming and waving the paper, Chuck ran toward the house, Della, the Dalmation, following closely behind. "Cindy Lou," start packing! We're moving to Jamaica!
© By Norma (Twi1ite@sbcglobal.net)
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Oh! To Be In April
Legend Of The Lost
Games Of Love
Thoughts Of Eagles
I Walk In Tulips
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