Writing Prompt: Note Found at a
Construction Site: “You're a construction worker and, while in the middle of a
dig to build a new building, you stumble upon a box with contents in it. There
are five very specific items in it along with a note: "When you find this,
call me. This is only phase one." The is a phone number...”
**
After reading the note, I take a
better look at the items in the box. What in the world?! I glance again at the
note.
"Phase one of what?" I ask the open air.
The first item I notice is a cork. It appears to have come from a wine bottle, based on the dark stains on the narrow end. The top of the cork is imprinted with an elaborate script letter "B."
The next item is a playing card. The back is showing, and is black with a gold foil line just in from the outer edfe, all the way around. I slip my fingertip under the edge of the card, and flip it over. It's a seven of diamonds. My confusion increases.
The third item was partly covered by the card, but is now exposed. It's a grainy photograph of a face, but the person is back-lit, at the features are almost impossible to see. Only the three-quarter outline of the right side of the forehead and cheek are clear, and the glint of a left eye, but it's not even clear whether it's a man or a woman. Much clearer is the fire behind the subject, which is obviously consuming a beautifully Victorian mansion, complete with a round tower.
The fourth item is even more perplexing. What's that doing in this boox?! It's a large metal ring with three heavy, old-fashioned keys attached to it. Someone has painted a cross on the shaft of the middle key, with what looks like red nail polish.
The fifth item catches my attention. This looks promising. It's a Visa gift card -- the shiny, silver kind. I tentatively pick it up, then look at the back. The scratch-strip is intact, so it may not have been used. There's no clue to how much might be on in.
I take out the note again, tuck it into my pocket, grateful for large cargo pockets, and then close the box. I type the number into my phone. My finger is about to press "Call," when I hear a step behind me.
"Everything okay over here, Sugar?" drawls a deep, rich, velvet voice.
"Hey, Josh," I manage.
I look up at the tall, broad-shouldered man. My boss's voice suits him, and I'm grateful that he's always a big teddybear.
"Everything's great," I assure him, tucking the phone into another pocket. "Just havin' a look at what needs done over here."
The call will wait.
"Phase one of what?" I ask the open air.
The first item I notice is a cork. It appears to have come from a wine bottle, based on the dark stains on the narrow end. The top of the cork is imprinted with an elaborate script letter "B."
The next item is a playing card. The back is showing, and is black with a gold foil line just in from the outer edfe, all the way around. I slip my fingertip under the edge of the card, and flip it over. It's a seven of diamonds. My confusion increases.
The third item was partly covered by the card, but is now exposed. It's a grainy photograph of a face, but the person is back-lit, at the features are almost impossible to see. Only the three-quarter outline of the right side of the forehead and cheek are clear, and the glint of a left eye, but it's not even clear whether it's a man or a woman. Much clearer is the fire behind the subject, which is obviously consuming a beautifully Victorian mansion, complete with a round tower.
The fourth item is even more perplexing. What's that doing in this boox?! It's a large metal ring with three heavy, old-fashioned keys attached to it. Someone has painted a cross on the shaft of the middle key, with what looks like red nail polish.
The fifth item catches my attention. This looks promising. It's a Visa gift card -- the shiny, silver kind. I tentatively pick it up, then look at the back. The scratch-strip is intact, so it may not have been used. There's no clue to how much might be on in.
I take out the note again, tuck it into my pocket, grateful for large cargo pockets, and then close the box. I type the number into my phone. My finger is about to press "Call," when I hear a step behind me.
"Everything okay over here, Sugar?" drawls a deep, rich, velvet voice.
"Hey, Josh," I manage.
I look up at the tall, broad-shouldered man. My boss's voice suits him, and I'm grateful that he's always a big teddybear.
"Everything's great," I assure him, tucking the phone into another pocket. "Just havin' a look at what needs done over here."
The call will wait.
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