“As a token of my gratitude, I want to give you a gift.” The little man who was speaking was still brushing dirt off his odd sparkly garment and examining the rips and tears caused by the dogs.

Dan shook his head. It all seemed surreal. He had seen the dogs chasing the man. He had watched them biting at his legs as he disappeared through a little hole in the dilapadated door. He yelled and kicked the dogs to drive them away before opening the broken door to check on the man.

And there the man sat, on the floor, studying his hands and legs for injury, tsk-tsking at the holes he would have to mend in his leggings.

“Are you okay?” Dan asked. “Can I help you?”

“No, no, no,” replied the man, his voice high and squeaky, like an old door hinge. “Let me give you a gift.”

He withdrew from his pocket a small ornate key.

“This key will open one of those three boxes,” he said, gesturing to three boxes that Dan hadn’t noticed on a shelf in the corner.

“The red box holds love. You will have a life full of love,” the man said, “but also great heartbreak.

“The blue box holds adventure. You will go and do amazing things — the sky is the limit — but have no one special to share them with.

“The yellow box holds enough — nothing amazing, but always enough money, enough people, enough time.

“Which will you choose?”

Unicorn Challenge again. So simple: write no more than 250 words based on the photo prompt.

I looked up “SERRURERIE” and learned that it’s a locksmith’s shop — hence, the key.

But seriously — which would you choose?

“Hey, Jack! How’re you doing?

“Yeah, I’m out for a walk. Can’t believe I still have a signal out here, but you’re coming through loud and clear.

“What? I didn’t catch that. You sound like you’re exercising. Are you out running? …Yeah, I may be a little short of breath, too. I’m heading to the bay. Just went past the sign.

“What sign? You know, the one about deep cold water and strong currents. It never scared me when we were kids, and I’m not going to let it scare me now.

“Speak up, could you? You sound miles away. What? God, Jack, your voice sounds weak. Are you okay?

“Hold on a sec, Jack. There’s some people coming towards me.”

[distant boy’s voice] “We tried to swim. The water is FREEZING.”

[distant woman’s voice] “And they weren’t kidding about the currents! I almost lost him to the sea!”

Indistinct conversation. Laughter.

[not speaking into the phone]”Thanks! I’m going to check it out anyway. Have a good one….

[back on the phone] “Hear that, Jack? Wish you were here with me for old time’s sake. What? I’m really having trouble hearing you. And you sound so out of breath. What are you doing?

“Your chest is tight? What do you mean? … Wait, is this like when you had that heart attack? What? I’m having a hard time hearing you, Jack. Can you speak directly into the phone?

“Jack? Are you okay? Is anyone there with you? Jack? Jack?”

This is my response to the Unicorn Challenge. Write no more than 250 words based on the photo. Easy-peasy.

I wanted to write one side of a telephone conversation. Did I do it right?

He slipped the sunglasses out of his breast pocket and put them on. The yellow sky had been his cue. He pulled the ball out of his right pocket.

His instructions had read,

“YELLOW SKY:

1. Don these sunglasses
2. Oblong ball in your right hand
3. Leave the building.
4. Walk east.
5. Push the button on the ball when you see the ship.”

He left the building and walked east. Other people seemed oblivious to the yellow haze. He reached up to pull down the sunglasses, but jerked his hand away as he recalled the vehemence with which the little man who had handed him the package had said, “Follow these instructions EXACTLY. Don’t do more. Don’t do less.”

He wasn’t sure if pulling the sunglasses down would be more OR less, but it certainly wasn’t part of the instructions.

The haze was heavy, stifling, but odorless. Nobody else seemed aware of it. Nobody seemed perturbed. Nobody cared.

He shifted the ball in his right hand and started to pass it to his left, but stopped. The instructions were clear which hand it should be in.

He stopped when he saw the ship, a huge orb, maybe 20 stories high. Eight spidery legs extended from it and were firmly planted on the ground. A long ramp extended down to the sidewalk and strange humanoids carrying weapons were running down it. People seemed oblivious to the whole thing.

He felt the button under his right thumb, hesitated a moment, and pushed it.

I missed last week’s Unicorn Challenge. I have a submission started in my draft folder for it — 142 words worth of set-up.

This week I was determined not to miss it — so you’ve got 250 words of set-up, but — dang it all! — I don’t know what happens. Why the importance of adhering exactly to the instructions? What did the button do?

The Unicorn Challenge is simple:
Maximum of 250 words.
Inspired by photo prompt above.

Not a word about being a complete story.