"The Antique Dealer." (Passage.)
Mr. Stone, the antique dealer, lived alone in a small apartment above his shop. Because of the many valuable articles which he kept on the premises, he was always afraid that one night someone would break in and rob him. Years before, when he had first come to live there, he had shutters fitted to all the ground-floor windows and strong locks put on all the doors. In addition, he locked up most of his valuable articles in a cupboard, which he had had specially made for this purpose. But, in spite of these precautions, he never felt safe, particularly when he had a lot of money in the apartment after a good day's business.
One Saturday night, when he counted his money after closing the shop, he found that he had taken nearly two thousand dollars that day. This was an exceptionally large sum and the thought of keeping it in the house made him feel very nervous. He knew that it would be better to take it to his son's house, where there was a small safe, but it was a foggy evening and his son lived on the other side of town. In the end, he took the money with him to his bedroom, put it in the pocket of one of his overcoats and locked the wardrobe door. He put the key under his pillow and went to bed.
Mr. Stone lay awake for a long time, wondering if his money was really safe, and it was well after midnight before he fell asleep. Almost immediately, or so it seemed, he was woken up by the loud ringing of the shop doorbell. He sat up in bed. Could he have been dreaming?? Surely, he thought, no one could want to see him at this hour of the night. The doorbell rang again, echoing through the silent house. He could not help thinking of a story he had read about a man who had been attacked and robbed when he went to answer the door at night. Once again the doorbell rang, more persistently this time.
Mr. Stone got out of bed and went across to the window. The fog had cleared slightly. He opened the window and looked out. He could just make out the shadowy figure of a man standing on the street below. "What do you want??" Mr. Stone called out in a nervous voice. The figure stepped back until it was standing under the street lamp. It was a policeman. "Sorry to disturb you, sir," said the policeman, "but there is a light on in your shop. I think you have forgotten to turn it off."
This story tells so much about being scared, frightened at one point in time...
I used to feel that way before, and I still do. I keep my precious belongings behind a locked door, and I guard them as a guard dog ready to attack to any intruder who tries to steal my golden treasures.
I began to write thrillers, the deadly fight between good and evil, and mystery stories. I indeed, challenge myself in a time frame on the chatterbox.
Does this tale remind you of something that has happened to you somewhere in time?? I wonder...
Thank you in advance for reading these stories!!
Poet Starry Dawn.
Mr. Stone, the antique dealer, lived alone in a small apartment above his shop. Because of the many valuable articles which he kept on the premises, he was always afraid that one night someone would break in and rob him. Years before, when he had first come to live there, he had shutters fitted to all the ground-floor windows and strong locks put on all the doors. In addition, he locked up most of his valuable articles in a cupboard, which he had had specially made for this purpose. But, in spite of these precautions, he never felt safe, particularly when he had a lot of money in the apartment after a good day's business.
One Saturday night, when he counted his money after closing the shop, he found that he had taken nearly two thousand dollars that day. This was an exceptionally large sum and the thought of keeping it in the house made him feel very nervous. He knew that it would be better to take it to his son's house, where there was a small safe, but it was a foggy evening and his son lived on the other side of town. In the end, he took the money with him to his bedroom, put it in the pocket of one of his overcoats and locked the wardrobe door. He put the key under his pillow and went to bed.
Mr. Stone lay awake for a long time, wondering if his money was really safe, and it was well after midnight before he fell asleep. Almost immediately, or so it seemed, he was woken up by the loud ringing of the shop doorbell. He sat up in bed. Could he have been dreaming?? Surely, he thought, no one could want to see him at this hour of the night. The doorbell rang again, echoing through the silent house. He could not help thinking of a story he had read about a man who had been attacked and robbed when he went to answer the door at night. Once again the doorbell rang, more persistently this time.
Mr. Stone got out of bed and went across to the window. The fog had cleared slightly. He opened the window and looked out. He could just make out the shadowy figure of a man standing on the street below. "What do you want??" Mr. Stone called out in a nervous voice. The figure stepped back until it was standing under the street lamp. It was a policeman. "Sorry to disturb you, sir," said the policeman, "but there is a light on in your shop. I think you have forgotten to turn it off."
This story tells so much about being scared, frightened at one point in time...
I used to feel that way before, and I still do. I keep my precious belongings behind a locked door, and I guard them as a guard dog ready to attack to any intruder who tries to steal my golden treasures.
I began to write thrillers, the deadly fight between good and evil, and mystery stories. I indeed, challenge myself in a time frame on the chatterbox.
Does this tale remind you of something that has happened to you somewhere in time?? I wonder...
Thank you in advance for reading these stories!!
Poet Starry Dawn.
2 comments:
And this story is a reminder, to build up treasures in Heaven, not treasures on earth.. A great story and moral my friend. Much love Crystal xxx
Thank you, sweetheart friend, Crystal for taking your precious time to read my post and writing your wise comments!!
Your friendship is worthwhile.
God bless you, and your loved ones!
In God's Garden,
Poet Starry Dawn.
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