Coin Messages

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
An old man in a park tells a younger man about finding coins. Do the coins he finds have meaning? You be the judge.

Submitted: November 30, 2016

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Submitted: November 30, 2016



I must have been about 20 years old, and I think that it was a Saturday.

I decided to go for a walk in the local park and while doing so I spied a dime on the walkway; it was near a bench.

Dimes were worth something back in those days, so I picked it up.

Just as I picked up the coin I heard this old man, who was seated on the bench say, “You’re going to be re-united with someone you haven’t had contact with in some time.”

I turned toward the wrinkled old gay and said, “What?”

He smiled and asked me to set down, he would explain.

Well what the heck, I had no place to be and I figured this old fart needed some company anyway. So why not?

He started by saying that he had found this “Coin Thing” to be true over the expanse of his years, however, he was unsure if it applied to him, alone, or everyone. So he started spreading what he learned whenever opportunity arose. He figured that whoever heard the story could decide for themselves, you know, if they wanted to keep track of the coins that they found and what happened in their lives, afterward.

Then he stated explaining, “Quarters seem to point to receiving money that I didn’t work for and I didn’t lend to someone earlier.  It could be a gift, or money found, but in my case it never was related to a birthday, or Christmas."

“What happened to half-dollars,”  I asked.

“Half dollars aren’t around much anymore, so I never got a handle on them because I never found any,” he replied.

Then he continued; “Now a Dime seems to tell me that I was going to have the chance to re-unite with someone I had been estranged from, sometimes due to a disagreement, but not always. It could be almost anyone that you have a connection with.”

He let out a chuckle and said, “Nickels were another matter, never had a clue, Zip, Nada, nothing connected.

However, the Pennies, they were the real messengers. You find a Penny, don’t put it in your shoe, no sir-re, you examine it real good. Look for odd configurations, front and back, color splotches, arrows, even writing in long hand.”

“Hold on, a penny with writing on it, they all have writing on them.” I said while laughing.

He turned towards me and got very serious with his facial expression, then said, “I’m not talking about what is stamped on them, I am talking about other writing, in long hand, as if someone used a scribe on it and wrote something. You know, like a name, or a scripture reference, a birth date, anything understandable.

Sometimes I understood, --- sometimes I didn’t, but the point is that the writing and symbols were on most of the pennies that I found, and over time I came to believe that there was a reason behind it all; a message of some kind.”

I was seated with my face toward the walkway when the old man stopped talking. When I turned to see why, I found that he had died.

I checked his pulse, but he was gone, he just gave up the ghost right in the middle of the sentence.

Anyway, as his body slumped and sort of leaned to one side, his right hand opened and a penny fell to the ground.

Yes, I called 911, and yes, I picked up the penny. There was no writing or symbols on the penny, there was just a discoloration over Lincoln's face, like a black cloud.

While the police was taking my statement one of them asked me if the old man was my Grandfather, it seems that he and I had the same last name. What are the odds?



J. E. Falcon

© Copyright 2019 JE Falcon. All rights reserved.

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