When eccentric recluse Otto Silversmith died, rumors ran rampant about the riches he had squirreled away. But as the workers cleared his estate, it wasn’t the money they found. It was the notes.
From the piano, a note to his nephew: “Avoid loose women.”
From beneath the kitchen sink, a note to his doctor: “Warm hands under water before exams.”
After ten, the workers laughed. After fifty, they smiled. After hundreds, they groaned. Notes in books, behind pictures, stuffed into shoes.
Thousands of notes went into the dumpster, but for the one that remained hidden.
“Word two from note in clown portrait. Word ten from…”
Josh Mosey 
Well done. Can someone teach themselves not to think too literally? To me, notes from the piano meant musical notes. And then to break it up the way you did, very imaginative. I loved it!
Thanks Paul. I’m a big fan of embedding the prompts. Thanks for reading!
This is my favourite that I’ve read so far (I’ve read 12) from this week’s prompt. I really enjoyed the idea of someone leaving notes to people that never received them. And the simple wisdom in the notes.
I got confused about this line though “Word two from note in clown portrait. Word ten from…”
I have no idea what that is saying, so for me I’d end it the sentence before.
oh right, I just got it, after reading it again, and this time noticing the title!! Very clever!!
maybe including the title on this blog post would help others
Loved this. It’s a nice conceit
how devious 🙂
Nice! I like this approach. I went with the same kind of note you did. The musical note seemed too obvious.
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