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Michael S. Atkinson's avatar

[My 50 Words]

Every five years the great stampede of horses can be heard, and felt, from miles away. Townsfolk are cautioned to stay clear of dirt roads until they’ve passed through safely.

No one knows where they come from or where they’re going, though many have tried and failed to find out. The curious thing is that you can’t actually see neither hide nor hair of them, just the thunder of their hooves, the shaking of the roads, and the sound of their passing.

Unfortunately, if you do chance to see one of those horses, well, no one ever sees you again.

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Alice Louise Meredith's avatar

[MY 50 WORDS]

(Every five years the great stampede of horses can be heard, and felt, from miles away. Townsfolk are cautioned to stay clear of dirt roads until they’ve passed through safely.

No one knows where they come from or where they’re going, though many have tried and failed to find out.) But they always left something behind - pennies. One penny for each horse the old folk used to say.

As soon as the last hoof beats faded in the distance, the children would begin to search the town, but this year they found none. Instead, they found nickels. Must be inflation.

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