Note on Your Car

There’s a note on the windshield of your car. The note says, “I’ve taken your most prized possession. If you want to see it again, in tact, meet me tonight at baseball field around the corner of the local high school. And bring your glove.” What makes this note so curious is that you’ve never played baseball, though you take no chances because your most prized possession is extremely valuable to you. Write this scene.

Post your response (500 words or fewer) in the comments below.

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447 thoughts on “Note on Your Car

  1. Spinypine

    There’s a note on the windshield of your car. The note says, “I’ve taken your most prized possession. If you want to see it again, in tact, meet me tonight at baseball field around the corner of the local high school. And bring your glove.” What makes this note so curious is that you’ve never played baseball, though you take no chances because your most prized possession is extremely valuable to you. Write this scene.

    “Glove? What glove,” I thought. I haven’t had a baseball glove in years. I suck at baseball. My dad gave me a glove when I was little. It fit very nicely on my left hand. Except that I was left handed. Do the math. I never got into baseball after that.
    “Glove? What glove,” again I thought.
    I had just gotten home from school and was surprised by the note. The Firebird was up on blocks in the driveway and had been forever. A work in progress, much to my parents’ dismay. Still, I checked “my oldest baby” every time I walked up the driveway coming home from school.
    But as I walked up the drive, I noticed something different. It was quiet. I wasn’t welcomed home the way I usually was. I didn’t mind not getting the bruises, but I did miss the routine. Then it hit me that something was wrong. Maybe not wrong, just different. Missing. I went inside.
    While I had a sleeve of Oreos and a glass of milk, I tried to remember where I put it. Thinking…
    It took a little digging, but I found it. I had put it in the “special” box where I kept my complete set of baseball cards, my soccer team letter, and my old retainer. It was still in the zip-lock bag I found it in.
    I put it in my knapsack and walked over to the high school. It was late. It was dark. I was a little nervous. But I determined to get this done.
    Not surprisingly, the parking lot is relatively empty at this time of night. I find a spot under one of the parking lot lights and wait. I had my iPhone with me so I know it was 17 minutes later when a black Cadillac limousine pulls into the lot. Over by the edge of the lot, in the shadows.
    After a short time, the driver’s side door opens and a large man gets out. He looks at me and says, “Jeremy, would you come over here? He would like to see you.”
    “I’m sorry, “ I say to myself, “He would like to see me?” I gulp. There was no response from myself.
    I got up off the ground under the street light and slowly walk towards the black car. The passenger’s door opens and a well-dressed gentleman gets out. Well dressed but more ostentatious than I would expect. An electric fan blowing his hair from inside the car. A sequinned fedora. Shiny Suit. With a strange but smooth gait, he moves backwards to the trunk of his car.
    Taking his hat off and spinning around, he then snaps his fingers and the trunk of the car opens. Slowly. We both choke and cough a little on the dry ice fog.
    “Do you have it?” he asks.
    “Yes,” I reply. “I only have the right one, though.”
    “Yes, I know,” he sighed. “That’s the one I want.”
    I took off my backpack and reached into the big pocket in the back. I pulled out the ziplock bag and handed it to him.
    Opening the bag, he removed the sequined glove. He slipped it on his right hand and it fit perfectly. As I expected it would.
    Michael smiled at me.
    Very carefully, he and his driver reached into the trunk and removed my emu. As they placed him on the ground, the driver handed me the leash.
    We watched Michael and the driver get back in the car and drive off.
    The emu and I looked at each other and I think we both thought “We still have the left glove.”

  2. Invisiblegraffiti

    Already in a bad mood, I squared my shoulders against the coming rain and approached my mini cooper, the normally bright and cheery red turned somber by the reflection of the grayed sky. I groaned in irritation as I saw someone had left a slip of paper tucked under the left windshield wiper, bearing a few smudges where the raindrops had blurred the ink. “If someone’s complaining about my parking again…” I trailed off as I noticed the script, written in large, painstaking and childish lettering. “I took your ring, the silver one with the big green rock in the middle. If you want to see it again, meet me tonight at the baseball field, you know which one. P.S. Bring your glove too.”
    Immediately, I reached for the handle. Locked. I fumbled for my keys, opening the door and using the smaller key on the glove compartment. My fingers probed around, searching for the familiar box that housed my ring, and finding nothing. I cursed, crumpling the paper and throwing it as far as I could down the street. “Dammit!” Of all the things someone could take, it had to be that. Didn’t anyone watch their kids anymore? I glanced at the clock. 5:39. I pursed my lips and slid into the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut with a force that hurt my ears and my hand equally.
    My fingers tapped a livid tattoo on the steering wheel as I headed to the parking lot of the baseball field to wait for whatever snotty little kid had stolen from me. Two or so hours to sunset. So be it. Until then, I thought, propping my feet up on the dash and grumbling under my breath, I would stew here. Oh, I didn’t have children of my own, but I had some choice words for whoever’s parent this one was. My mom would’ve smacked me into the next week if I’d done something like this. Not that I would have. And why meet here? This place had been abandoned for years.
    As the sun’s light faded against the distant mountains, I exited my car, stepping into the chill night air and striding with purpose toward the overgrown field. Once I reached the middle, I stopped, crossing my arms and pursing my lips, waiting for the thief to show, some part in the back of my mind wondering when my ring had been taken. Caught up in my wonderings, I failed to see the small figure silhouetted against the streetlight until it stopped several yards away. I glanced toward the boy, clutching a weathered baseball in a small hand, his blue eyes peering out from under the bill of a Dodgers cap. I frowned, and approached him, meaning to give him a firm talking-to, but then he smiled broadly.
    “You’re here! Great!” I frowned, still irritated by the theft of my ring, but beginning to wonder about this strange boy. I uncrossed my arms and planted them on my hips. “What is your name, and just why did you steal my ring?”
    The boy’s smile faded, and he looked at his feet. “My name’s James. That’s the only way I could get anyone to play with me.”
    My brow furrowed as a pang went through my heart at this statement, spoken so simply and yet with such sadness behind it. I shook my head. “Where are your parents? Can’t they play with you?”
    “No. They don’t see me anymore.”
    I looked at the boy for a few moments more, and then let out a deep sigh. “Okay, James. I’ll play ball with you for a little while, but you have to give me my ring.”
    He clutched the ball tighter, and a look of alarm crossed his face. “No! You’ll just leave once you have it and I’ll be alone again.”
    Another pang went through my heart, and I sighed again. “Okay. I don’t have a glove, but let’s play anyway.” With a grin that went all the way to his ears, he firmed his feet and threw the ball to me. I caught it, grimacing inwardly at the grubbiness of the old leather, and threw it back to James.
    We threw it back and forth for a while, the boy’s infectious smile making a grin come to my face, and eventually he stopped, looking down at the ball thoughtfully. “Thank you for coming, miss. No one else would.” I closed the distance between he and I in a few strides, and reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, meaning to comfort him, perhaps to ask where his parents had gone and if he would let me take care of him until I could get in touch with the foster care service. My hand went right through. My eyes widened, and I took a step backwards. James lowered his eyes, looking slightly ashamed. “I took some things from people. I always meant to give them back, I told them, but they just took their things back and left me here.”
    My mouth worked, but no sound came out. He pointed to a small mound by the faded first base mark. “I died there.” he said softly. “My parents moved away after that, and I had to stay here since then. I thought if someone played ball with me one last time, then it would be better.” He smiled then, looking up at me with his solemn blue eyes. “And it is. You made it better, just like I hoped you would. Now I don’t have to stay here anymore. Thank you.”
    I blinked. The boy was gone, the small box with my ring in it lying upon the ground where he had stood. Reaching down, I picked up the box, staring at it for several long moments that felt like an eternity. My son had given me this ring before he died of leukemia five years ago. He had blue eyes too. I took a few steps forward, toward the small mound, and placed the ring on top. “Goodbye.” I said, to both of them, and then turned and walked away. My taillights reflected off the silver of the ring as I drove away.

  3. CECtheRonin

    The crickets chirped as I snuck over the fence of the local high school, but the sound was more ominous than soothing. Every sound reminded me of the danger of being caught, from the clinking fence to the sirens in the distance. Still, there was no going back. I couldn’t be without it for any longer.

    Grunting as I dropped to the ground, I scanned the area for signs of life. No one. The only thing that stood out was a pitching machine in the middle of the field. I frowned, wondering why the custodian hadn’t boxed it up and put it away… unless it was meant for me. Cautiously, I approached it, wary or anyone who might be watching. If the thief was intending to lure me to it, I wasn’t going to let them catch me off guard. So when I got nearer to the machine and the floodlights burst into activation, I whirled around to see if anyone was going to rush me. No one.

    In my haste to find anyone sneaking up, I was caught off guard when a baseball smacked me in the shoulder. I stumbled, only to get struck by several more balls shot by the machine. Hastily, I pulled on my glove and started catching as many as I could. After the first few that got through, I got pretty good at making sure none of them hit me as a ball that seemed to have a metal core pounded into my glove and made my hand sting like all hell. Curiously, I looked at it and noticed that the stitches were partially cut.

    I bolted behind the bleachers and curiously peeled the ball apart. Inside was a metal sphere that had the number 26 engraved in small print. I tried to think of what that meant, while also ignoring the pain from being pelted with baseballs. Nothing came to me until I heard a car go by. 26 must be referring to a parking space at the school. Without wasting any time, I bolted over there.

    Unlike the baseball field, there were no illuminating lights to brighten the parking lot. Instead, the yellow street lamp gave the area a very eerie glow. My body tense, I searched around for parking spot 26. I kept going until eventually I found it, only the spot was vacant. I stood there for a while to see if that was supposed to be a signal to some car to come find me, but there was nothing.

    Sighing, I turned to leave when my foot hit something. I looked down and on further inspection, I found that something had been covered in black paper, the light making it blend in with the asphalt. Ripping off the paper, I found that my laptop was there, containing all of my memories and life’s work. But attached was a note that read, “Life is dodging or being pelted by baseballs. Watch who you step on and this won’t happen again.”

  4. mruchavan

    After taking nice warm bath, I comb my hair and decide to go to market for some vegetables. I see something on my car on the windshield. A piece of white old paper. I read that and I recognize handwriting instantly and I feel so angry that I punch glass door shattering it.
    I curse, “I have no time for such silly things and my boy Remy is making fool of me”
    Remy must have taken my Garden keys which I keep secure as this is the place I love most and I don’t have duplicate one. I don’t want him visiting this place. This was the garden I built in the memory of my late wife ROSE. I feel her presence when I see fully grown roses with different colors. I feel happy here. This is the only place I like to be all the time. I don’t hate Remy because he wants to pursue his career in basketball but I hate him because part of me thinks him responsible for death of my wife. My lovely wife rose died in the car accident when Remy was driving. Now Remy is wasting time in this worthless baseball game where he has no chance to make his career. I know sport politics and how it works. I was a good player once but they didn’t give me chance to play and I became painter painting walls of some jerks who earn heavy bucks.
    But I wonder why he wants me to bring my old gloves. It irritates me to search things but I don’t want to take any risk so I need to find it. I don’t remember where I kept my old gloves. Finally I find it over the compartment of my old cupboard after search of one hour. I take heavy turn and stop my car in front of the baseball stadium. I ask Janitor about Remy as I enter into the stadium.
    He points his finger towards main office. I rush myself towards that direction. I see Remy waiting for me. Room is filled with some people in suits discussing about baseball. As I enter, I hand him my old gloves. He wears them for a moment and takes a pen and signs it and give that to Mr. Jimmy Dalton. Owner of Dodgers team of LA.
    Remy says, “He is my father and his old gloves singed by me as my assurance to you that I will join your team next season. Thank you Mr. Dalton for the offer”
    It surprises me. Remy smiles at me and says, “This one is for you dad. I just got singed by Dodgers. I know my mistake but I will prove you that I am not a waste. I miss mom same as you. She wanted me to pursue my dream and I won’t let her down”
    Remy gives me my garden keys and engage himself in the conversation with executives.
    Eye drops trickle down from my face. With heavy heart I give him broad smile and leave the room.

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