"The Sound Outside Two Windows" by Bryn Ray

In the soft, muted stage, between awake and asleep, Shelby moved in her bed, twisting the sheets around her legs. 

"There is that sound again, I don't want to hear this, I'm scared!" Dad always says, " Don't worry so much kiddo, I will take care of everything, " 
Shelby moans, "Dad, don't, come back!" 
Again Dad tells her, "You worry too much kiddo, it's just a sound outside." 

But he never came back! 

Suddenly Shelby sits up in bed, her heart pounding in her chest. That sound, just like that night so many years ago, I hear it now! Shelby turns on the light, looking around the room, the sound soft in her ears. It can't be happening, not here, not now! She turns and looks around her room, the solid walls around her. 



There are no windows in a spacecraft!

"The Sound Outside Two Windows" by Chrissie Green

Chrissie is our third submission. You can read her blog over at Fill The Space With Words. She hasn't written there in awhile but I figure it's only a matter of time til she's back.

My name is Joe, I don't have a home. This neighborhood is my home. It's trees, it's houses, it's people, all of them. They are my home. I know everyone, well mostly everyone. They know me. They say hi to me as I walk by. Everyday I walk by, I walk through my neighborhood, my home. I make sure that everything is OK, everyone is safe, everyone is taken care of. I have a few favorites, like the little family at the corner house, I've sat and watched them all day before, the man and woman that live there, are always so nice to me, they have a little blonde girl who runs around the yard. She always smiles at me, she waves and squeals “Hi Joe!” every time I walk by. I also really like the small, brown hair woman who lives by herself, she always makes me snacks and talks to me for hours. She lives across the street from tall,lanky man's house though. I don't like him, I usually cross the street to avoid his house, that is how I met brown haired woman.
Today is no different than any other day. I was walking the neighborhood as usual, when I heard a sound. A strange thumping noise that caught my attention. It stopped me in my tracks, making me listen to it, making my mind take over my body as I slowly crept towards it. Before I knew what I was doing, I had wandered into someone's backyard, completely entranced by this noise. When the noise suddenly stopped I was instantly aware of my surroundings. I had walked into the tall lanky man's backyard, right into the middle of it. Looking around his yard, I noticed Its not a very big yard, but that's because he has a huge tool shed at the back of it, taking up most of the space. There is about 10 feet between the back of the house and this shed. I am standing in the middle of the yard, between two windows. A window on the back of his house, and the window on the shed. Between these two windows the thumping sound has stopped.
As I stand here waiting for it to start again, I feel myself starting to lose interest. I turn to leave the yard but am frozen again when the noise returns. It is deeply muffled, strangely familiar and definitely right below me. I lay down with my ear pressed to the ground. Thud. Thud. Thud. There is no rhythm, its erratic, but fierce.
The cracking sound of the back door of the house opening, snaps me to a standing position. I turn and run in the opposite direction. Quickly looking for a place to hide,the bushes next to the fence seem big enough,so I dart into them. Tall lanky man is walking out his back door. Same look as always on his face, a blank, empty one. The only expression is the slight irritation of the sun on his eyes. He always looks clean, and put together. Dark brown pants, with a white t-shirt that is always tucked into his pants. He walks out to where I was standing. In the middle of his yard, between the two windows. He can hear the sound too, he knows exactly where its coming from. He is not confused, or curious. He knows what it is and where it is coming from.
He listens to the thumping for a second, then scans around him. He's looking to see if anyone else hears it as well. His eyes pass me in the bushes, He doesn't know I am here. He looks satisfied that no one has heard it, so he steps to the side, his body now facing towards the shed. Instead of walking forward, he bends down. His knees pressing into the grass, and his hands lifting the grass, like it was a blanket. A large blanket of grass, covering a large concrete door. In the ground. He spins a combination into a metal lock attached to the door. It clicks and he slides his skinny fingers into the crack, lifting the door up and open. The smell hits me first, the smell of sweat, dirt, and urine, days worth, leaking up through the opening. It's so strong, it makes my eyes water. I have a pretty strong nose, but most smells don't bother me. This one, makes me want to run the other way.
Even though I know someone is in there, it still makes me jump a little bit when I see a bony, dirty hand slowly reach up through the opened door. Tall, lanky man is not shocked though, he knew this hand was in there. He expected it to reach up to him. To motion for help, for mercy. Tall, lanky man is not a man who cares, he is so empty, this does not concern him. With as little effort as he can possibly give, he pushes the hand back into the hole. He bends down further and I can see his lips moving. I can not hear what he is saying. His lips move slowly, but with purpose. Without being able to hear him, I can tell he means what he says. His face so still, so blank, all that moves, is his lips.
My crazy, beating, heart stops, when his face is no longer empty. He looks, startled, confused and angry all at the same time. It takes me a second to realize that his face has changed so drastically, because he is looking directly at me. Without even realizing it, I had started to crawl towards him. Wanting so desperately to hear what he is saying to the hand. I had crawled out of my bush, and within his line of sight. We stare at each other for what seems like an eternity, neither one of us breaking eye contact. I can't move, I cant breathe, I can just stare. At tall lanky man's dead brown eyes.
His eyes break first though and, his body quickly moves. He drops the door back into the ground and I can only assume that he locks it again and puts his blanket of grass back over it. I don't know though, because as soon as that door hit the ground, I was gone. I am running as fast as I can, running until I start to forget why I am running. He didn't follow me, he was too old, too slow to ever catch me. Not that even if he was fast, he would run to catch me. No one is ever concerned about what I see, or what I will do. He wasn't angry that I had been watching, he was angry that he hadn't known I was there. I can tell tall, lanky man does not like to be caught off guard. He won't come to find me, track me down, to keep me silent. He has no fear that I will talk, that I will tell anyone. He feels safe, with his dirty secret, covered with the large,concrete door and his blanket of grass. But just because I can not talk, does not mean I can not stop him.
The next day I am waiting, laying here in the bushes. He will not know I am here, because he was sleeping when I crawled into them. I have been here all night, not sleeping. Just waiting. The only thing that could give me away is my growling stomach. Brown haired lady has not been at her home in a while. So I have not gotten any snacks. I will not let it get the better of me. I will save that bony, dirty hand in the hole. I will stop tall, lanky man, I just have to wait. I am determined to do so.
I wait so long that my eyes have betrayed me, and I have fallen asleep, so I almost give myself away when tall lanky man opens the back door again and it scares me so bad, I jump in the bushes. He does not notice though. He does not look my way. He walks out to his spot again, in the middle of the yard, between the two windows. The sound is much fainter today, the bony, dirty hand must not have as much energy to make as loud of a noise. Tall lanky man must do this every day because he does exactly the same as yesterday. He scans the yard, this time staring a little more intently at where we had met eyes yesterday. Again satisfied that he is alone, he steps to the side, bends down, lifting up his blanket of grass. This time when he opens the big concrete door, the bony dirty hand does not reach up to him, there is no hand. Tall, lanky man looks victorious, like he has won, and it makes me mad. He props the door open with a big metal stick, and I seize my opportunity. I crash out of the bushes, charging, running at him as fast as I possibly can. With all my force, I knock him into the hole. His head hit the concrete wall on his way down into the hole, and he does not move again. He lays there, and I can see the blood pooling underneath his head. Now I feel victorious, I am the one who has won. He wont be able to hurt another bony, dirty hand. He wont be able to hurt this bony, dirty hand anymore, the same hand that is reaching out to me now. Wait....its reaching out to me! The hand is OK, the hand is still moving, the hand is....the hand is attached to brown haired lady! Before I know what I am doing, I am jumping into the hole, and brown haired lady is wrapping her arms around me.
“Joe...” cracks her strained voice. She knows I am here to help her. So I snap to action. I stand up and begin to push her towards the top of the hole. I push so hard that she just barely reaches the top. I keep pushing, as she is pulling her self out.
“Joe...my hero” she cracks again from the top of the hole. “I...will be right...back, Joe. I will get help.”
And she is gone. I can not see her at the top of the hole. I am alone with tall,lanky bleeding man, in the hole in his back yard. I try to jump to reach the top of the hole, but I can't. It is too far away. I feel like it has been so long since she left. Where is help? My stomach growls again, I really hope she brings a snack. I am glad bony, dirty hand is OK, that my brown haired lady is OK. She is one of my favorites, after all. Maybe after she cleans herself, she will talk to me again for hours. That is my favorite thing ever.
“Over here, please come, over here!” Brown haired lady's voice still rasping , yells. She is back, with help, and a snack...I hope. A large, bearded cop appears at the top of the hole. He surveys what is before him, obviously something he has never seen before. Brown haired lady is right behind him, she reaches down into the hole for me, but the cop pulls her back out.
“Ma'am, you have to let the ambulance check you out. You have to be severely dehydrated!” he is holding her back and she tries with what little energy she has to push away from him and reach back out to me. It is a lost battle though, as another cop, this time a woman, wraps a blanket around brown haired lady and pulls her from my view.
“Just help, Joe! I want to make sure he is OK!” brown haired lady's voice is fading as she is being taken away. I hope they help her, I really like her. Another cop hands large bearded cop a ladder and he slowly lowers it down into the hole. He climbs down and picks me up. As he climbs half way up the ladder, another cop grabs me and pulls me out of the hole the rest of the way. They take me over to where brown haired lady is being looked at by the ambulance people. She is laying in a bed with wheels, and several doctors are hovering around her.
“Is Joe, OK?” She asks, her voice getting worse every time she speaks. One of her doctors walks over to me, and looks me over. She seems satisfied that I am OK.
“He looks fine, not a scratch on him.” Brown haired lady sags in relief, and it makes me happy that she cares that I am OK. My doctor walks back over to brown haired lady, and they all lift her bed up and into the back of a big red car. She sits up a little, as I walk closer to the back of the car.
“Can Joe please come? I don't want him to be left alone!” She starts to panic, and the nice doctor tries to make her lay back down.
“Joe can come. Come on, Joe” So I listen, and I jump into the back of the big red car. I walk over to sit next to brown haired lady's bed with wheels, and she reaches over and hugs me again. She still smells really bad, but its OK because I am glad she is OK. She strokes her hand across my face, and looks at me.
“Good dog, Joe. You are such a good dog. Thank you for saving me. “ She strokes my face again and closes her eyes. The big, red car begins to make a really loud noise, as it starts to move.

~

It's been a couple of weeks since I saved brown haired lady from dead,tall, lanky man. I have a different home now. Well a home within a home. I sleep on brown haired lady's bed, and she feeds me snacks all day long. She walks with me as I walk around my neighborhood. As I visit everyone else. She tells everyone about how I am hero, and how I am such a good dog. I really like living with her. She talks to me too, all day long, while she strokes my head. On today's walk, we stopped by dead, tall, lanky man's old house. There was a large truck in the backyard, it was pouring, what brown haired lady tells me is concrete, into the hole. She called him a bastard as we watched the hole fill up. Brown haired lady still seems scared every once in a while. Which is why I am always with her. I am glad that the concrete will make sure there is never that sound outside those two windows again.

"The Sound Outside Two Windows" By James Long

James was the second submission to the challenge. 

A whisper to the window of consternation’s trance I whisper whilst incensed by unduly bedazzlement of poetic license. A celebratory exclamation to another window though seemingly this time it is of an offering display, I am just trying to be faithful to this inane triage of mind's query, to find the monument of constitution adequate enough to maintain strengths in will to fulfill the ache of yearn. However, the entrancement of policy keeps it all to an auspicious quake of quell upon quarter, with sharer and I’s quantifiable quibble making our complacency more so quixotic. Though how to see the relay of calm to audibility within the misinterpretation of one sound outside two windows somehow disavows a shared frequency. How else does the eldest per se of such a wily diverse order come to be the most deferring to the yearn, properly accented foremost of what is on display. One would consider not listening to the uproar of consideration, to such offering, as thus abodes mystique for want veers more powerfully than requisite stake. Yet the whisper so overpowered does opportune better reward, with reservations of absolution.

And to not speak of the desolation is to bring about just as much a quandary to my mind to know, affirmation as I may think it, afar due in plentiful hue art of thought too stubborn to mistake, that it’s a must to instill the uncovered truth to amass an understanding versus a continuance of ponderous possibilities. May a caster of prose suppose inspire by abounded muse of original and tawdrily unique iteration upon interpretation; that one would think to read more than once so whence understood come comprehension? So mire the prospects of inaugurals where to emanation spawns determination, if it’s grasped, through thus findings will find resolutely. Of cause for what cause for the whisper or the yell, who’s to tell. It must be of my mind’s delusions to hear one sound two ways of windows yet paired, the pains and panes though sealed still hold taunt awry to my name upon thus rarity of call. Where am I, so unkempt upon my own self’s inner inceptions; that trickery and deceit meet me in the reflection from one mirror to the other a match the same through my diamond eyes, and indeed I must be bound in inanity of oust to ablaze with tendency adherent to a disposition fraught with suppose. Are I to involve upon reach to confine another’s benign heeded loss of resplendence for my own sake wherein dependence at this moment is so new that I know naught of how to co-depend or keep to self-reliance, neither? To have heard such sound unrequited to each other’s plea though of the same call, I fear the is no keeling to my will, I must best the struggle to find the unwind of tension to better appreciate my mind to be found again, filled with apprehension.

"The Sound Outside Two Windows" by Courtney Scott

Courtney was the first to submit her story to The Writing Challenge. You can read her blog over at Ramblings of a Semi Sane Person

I sit in my room, from day to day. It's dark and lonely, sometimes scary. There's two windows in this room with me. But there is no scenery. It's a gray day outside, every day. Shadows dance. Can't tell when it's day, or when it's night. It's as though the shades are always drawn. You see, when they built my house, they forgot to put in glass panes, but instead put in shutters.

The benefit of not seeing out my windows, is my heightened sense of hearing. I can hear everything, from the lightest pin drop, to a plane flying overhead. I imagine it cutting through the clouds, if I only knew what clouds really looked like. I imagine they are wondrous things. Big, immense. But what is big...when you have nothing to compare it to?

I can hear people outside my windows everyday. I can hear deep into their soul. Most people are ugly. Cruel. Spiteful. I can't understand why they are loved so. Maybe it's because I can't see them. Maybe I can hear what they really are. I can hear the monsters that lay deep beneath the make up and fake facade people put on.


Like the woman who even though, looks like a wonderful mother on the outside. Has several children, who smile, and laugh. She always seems happy and composed. But maybe that's because underneath the smiles and composure, is pure hatred. Abuse. She takes her stress out on her children, who sit night after night, hungry, because mom is out on a date, drinking drinks with strange men, rather than feeding her children, who are fending for themselves on leftover Ramen and rice. They don't know their fathers, they don't really know their mother. But they know the punishment they will face if they let on the life they lead behind closed doors. So they put on the mask for the world...the mask, I cannot see.


Or the working father, who has a wife and kids. He comes home from work every night, picks his kids up, spins them around, and kisses his wife with the most intense passion. I'm sure he looks the part, suit, nice car, white picket fence. But underneath all that bullshit, lies a gambler. He leaves work on a lunch break to find any way he can to spend his savings, his wife's nest egg, his children's collage fund. Horse races, video poker football games. It's almost all gone. Pretty soon they will be homeless, selling prized possessions just to eat, or keep basic necessities in their life. He's selfish, and has a problem, and rather than seek help, he seeks another way to get rich quick.


And the darkest of all, is the man down the hall. He's a sweet old man, People always say hello, asking him how his day is going, making sure to make small chat with him, because he is all alone. But what they don't know is how evil this man is. I can hear it, I can hear the demon deep within him. I can hear his computer keys clicking away at night, searching for his prey. He pretends to be a friend when a young one needs someone to listen. He'll listen. He'll be everything you want him to be. He'll tell them they need to get away, he'll help them. And before you know it, they are brought to his home, late at night. He steals their childhood away from them. Takes pictures of the innocent faces to trade like baseball cards among him and his monster friends. Makes them face this demon alone. I can hear the cries, but I can't do anything about it. For I cannot see where the cries are coming from. Only shadows and darkness. But still people say Hello, they wave, he smiles, his gruesome, evil smile.




I have almost but lost my faith in humanity. People are dark, selfish creatures. There was once a time when out my windows I could hear genuine laughing. Kindness. I'm almost glad I'm trapped inside this dark room, I would rather spend my life in here, then out there with the monsters.


There are a few people left on this planet that help keep my faith in humanity alive.



Like the case worker who came to the house of the abused children. They were able to put down their Ramen, grab the tattered teddy bears that have given them security during these hard times. She came in like a super hero, and took them to their Grandmother's house. A house full of love, caring, and cookies. A house where the color returned to their little faces. A house where they were embraced in hugs and safety, instead of fear and hate. The lady was “only doing her job”, but I could hear in her voice, the genuine concern, and care she had for these children. And for her, my heart is filling up with happiness.


Or the friend of the husband, who stepped in, to show him what he was about to lose. His beautiful children, his caring wife, his picture perfect house and life. It was all going to go away because he couldn't keep his hands off his check book. He offered support, sat with the husband when he faced his wife, and children to admit he had a problem. He went and visited his friend every day while he was away making himself better for his family, and was there to take care of the family in his absence. A true friend who didn't judge, who didn't mock, or ruin, someone who truly cared about his friend. He too helped the light shine just a little through these shady windows.


And the officer, who came to the aid of a little boy. He was visiting his “friend” and was alone, and terrified. The officer came in, carried that boy in his arms and told him the nightmare was over. He put silver bracelets on the man, and made him walk, in front of all the neighborhood for everyone to see the monster I always knew was in there. The streets were full of “I had no idea” and “He was always so sweet”, but those are the scariest of monsters. The ones that blend in, the ones that make you feel welcome. That officer got a medal, and even though the damage was done with the boy...he always knew there was a hero looking out for him. He wasn't alone in that dark basement. He had a guardian angel looking out for him.


So here I sit in my dark room. But I like it in here. I like being able to hear a persons soul. There are no masks, there are no cover ups.


Some people think being born blind is a disadvantage, but from where I sit, my handicap, is a blessing. For my windows are my eyes. Broken and blank, but seeing more than a person with sight can see,

"The Sound Outside Two Windows" by West Christy

This submission is a non competing submission.



There was little regret to be had by Meagan as she slammed her door shut. God, she hated her parents so much. Selfish, sadistic human beings. At least to her. Of course her brother loved them. He got everything handed to him. But god forbid she wants one thing. It was just a cell phone. And they bought Ryan one. Who cares if he had a job?

She screamed and slammed her fist into her pillow. Over and over again.

"I hate you!" She screamed at the top of her lungs. The effort struck her and she choked. Then began to cry. Tears streamed down her face in thick rivulets, causing her mascara to run. She didn't care. They'd know how unreasonable they were being when they saw how upset she was...


"Who do you hate?" The voice was so quiet she almost didn't hear it. Meagan wiped her mouth and looked around.


"Who's there?" She was startled. She curled up on her bed.


"I'm sorry. I didn't meant to startle you. I'm next door." The voice was soft and calming. Curious, she got up and approached her window. The night air felt good on her raged skin. She took deep breaths and poked her head out.

Outside, immediately across, the window to the neighbor's house stood open. But it was dark. Very dark.


"Who are you?" The question was apprehensive. She wasn't sure she should ask it. This was a complete stranger after all.


"My name is Terrance Arthur. What's yours?"

"Meagan." The voice was quiet on the other side.

"I like that. 'Meagan'. Means pearl doesn't it?"

She looked back over her shoulder at her door. It seemed a good distance away but she wasn't sure why she was looking. Terrance seemed nice. And there were two windows between them.

"I...I don't know."

"I believe it does. What's wrong?"

And she couldn't hold it in any longer. Nobody had asked her that question before. Nobody! So she let it all out.

"My parent's won't buy me a cell phone. They won't teach me how to drive. They won't let me get a job, they say 'I need to stay in school'. They won't let me get my tongue pierced. They won't let me go out on a date..." And she kept going. It wasn't too long before she realized how long she had been talking and stopped. Almost mid sentence.

"I'm sorry Terrance."

"No. It's ok. Feel better?" And she had to think to herself before answering.

"I do a little bit. Thanks Terrance."

"You're welcome. I'm going to head to bed. You have sweet dreams. Ok Meagan?"

"Ok. Thank you. Good night." Meagan strained to see if she could catch a glimpse of him moving, to see what he looked like. But there was nothing but darkness. How could he see in there? It was no matter. Shrugging, she pulled open the closet to get to her PJ's. It was her bedtime too.

The next day at the bus stop Meagan strained to look into the windows of the house next door. But the shades were drawn. The three other girls that shared the stop kept side glancing her as if she were doing something unnatural but Meagan as usual ignored them. They often talked behind her back and passed nasty notes in class. Being a reject at school was something she thought to talk to Terrance again tonight, if he were there. Yes, she smiled despite the giggles behind closed hands, she'd talk to Terrance tonight and it'd all be better.

"Terrance?"





"Yes Meagan."

"How are you tonight?" It had occurred to her that she hadn't asked him a single question about himself.

"I'm good. How are you?"

"I could be better."

"What's wrong?"

And she broke down. All of it poured out. The girls. The rumors. The back stabbing. The lying. The boys. The sneaking around. The kissing. The cheating. All of her problems and why her life at school sucked.

"Stop Meagan."

She almost choked on her words. Terrance had said it in such a calm voice that it was almost a wonderment he was telling her to knock it off.


"But..."


"No. I want you to do something."

"Um...ok. What is it?"

"Listen."

Meagan waited for him to talk. But he didn't. Instead she heard chirping. A cricket. She pictured it on the ground, using it's legs to create it's tell tale noise. A bird chimed in too. Subtle. She had no clue what kind of bird made such a noise so she had trouble picturing that one too. A breeze wafted in a fresh scent of roses. She breathed it in deep.

"Listen to what?"

"The world. Just listen."

Normally she would have thought this was a stupid idea. But for some reason coming from Terrance, this was not a bad idea. She closed her eyes and listened. Off in the distance a car drove by. It backfired and rattled off. A plane was going by in the distance, probably coming in for a landing. Ryan's music filtered from the upstairs window and played lightly on the air, so as to not disturb the crickets and the birds. Again she breathed in and caught pine in the scents. The act brought a smile to her lips.


"That helps. Thank you."

"Good night Meagan. Sweet Dreams. "

"Good night Terrance."









That was the final straw! An F? How could she get an F? She studied and studied and studied. Maybe because she didn't have a computer in her room, she didn't get current enough information. Or maybe because Ryan distracted her with his stupid music. Maybe because her parents had her living in such an inhospitable environment that she couldn't concentrate. It didn't matter now. She had an F in Social Studies and the lecture from her parents would be enough to kill her. God she hated her life. So much.

"Terrance. You there?"

"Yes. How are you tonight Meagan?"

"Not good."

"Then just listen."

She tried doing that for a few minutes before she gave up. Obviously Terrance didn't want to talk tonight so she told him good night. He sighed, and bid her the same. He skipped the sweet dreams this time though. Meagan thought that maybe it was a little weird, but it had only been three days. Shrugging it off she went to sleep.


Days became weeks and weeks became months. Every night though, Terrance was there to talk to Meagan. Recently she had a group of guys and girls befriend her on Facebook as a cute senior at her high school. When she found out they were pranking she got really depressed. Terrance told her to breath and listen. And while she did, it again didn't help. Terrance stayed and talked to her when that didn't help. This time he gave some advice.

"They're just words. Negative sounds. Just listen to them. But give them no heed."

And the more she thought about that the better she felt. The talks still continued into the night. And every day she felt better about everything.

The lights hadn't startled her at first, until she realized where they were coming from. Meagan jumped off the bus, cutting the sniveling, conniving girls out of her way as she barrelled outside. The ambulance sat in front of Terrance's house. She wanted to go over there. To see if he was ok. But her mom stopped her.

"Listen Meagan." The words startled Meagan that she looked up wide eyed at her mother. "Terrance Arthur passed away last night."

"What? No. He was ok. I talked to him. He was ok."

"Honey listen. He had a lot of medical problems. He was in pain all the time. He couldn't leave his house..."





"He what?" The idea startled her. He couldn't leave his house?

"He was bedridden Meagan. He was paralyzed from the neck down. He had a live in nurse, that's who found him." Meagan's mother turned back to the house. But Meagan couldn't hold it in any longer. She ran. Into the house. Past the paramedics. Past the nurse. Into Terrance's room.

There was nothing in his room but his bed. There wasn't a single decoration on the wall. Not a single thing of his in the room. He had almost nothing.


Every night she'd listen to his voice. Every night she'd talk to him. Every night she'd unload on him and he would tell her to just listen to the sounds outside.

The tears and sobs broke through loudly as guilt ran through her. She was so selfish! So stupid! Here she was with an able body. Here she was 100 percent in her faculties. She had her health, her parents, her brother. She had a house and decorations and stuff and was well fed and taken care of. She screamed loudly at the top of her lungs as the final thought struck home.

She had all of these problems that were nothing. They meant nothing. Cause she had everything in life you could want.









And all he had was the sound outside their two windows.









And he had shared it with her.

"The Sound Outside Two Windows" Challenge

Challenge: A story titled "The Sound Outside Two Windows"

This challenge I came up with when I overheard someone talking and they said something about the sound outside their windows. I thought they had said the sound outside two windows until I realized that couldn't be right. But still, the sentence for some reason stayed with me. Then I got the idea for the writing challenge. At first it was just a facebook post. Then it became The Writing Challenge Facebook page so more than just my friends could join. So enjoy the submissions for August (we still have a few days for some submissions so more will come up) and thank you and write on!