We ducked down and looked over the edge toward the center of the park. There, approaching the flowers, was a young man. He couldn't have been more than twenty-five, and he was gorgeous. His skin shown in the moon-light, and his hair was dark and long. His eyes were light, even from half a block you could tell.
"I wonder who he is--"
He walked with soft, deliberate steps. It appeared as if he glided up to the fountain. As he did, he hummed something to himself.
Maureen whispered. "That's Chopin's Nocturne in E flat. I love that piece--"
At the fountain he reached into his coat and pulled out a flute. He hesitated at the side of the fountain and looked around.
At this point I think Maureen dropped out of sight. I was to frozen with fear to move. Maureen says she stayed up, but I don't believe her. She never shared my unvoiced fear. Anyway, I could swear that he saw me. In the instant his eyes made contact with mine I noticed two things. One, they were indeed light, light green. Two, I was scared of him. Not scared because I was caught. Just scared.
He didn't hold my look for long. I almost thought he might not have seen me. Then he put the flute to his lips and started to play. Finally, I managed the will power to drop out of sight.
Maureen turned and looked back over the wall. "I want to get a closer look." She crawled over and hid behind a tree.
I didn't know what to do. I was scared of him seeing us, not because of my fear of him. Not yet. I felt like the whole idea of spying was wrong and what if we were caught? Who was there to catch us anyway? I looked over the wall.
The Nighthawk Awards: 1957
13 hours ago