A/N: Hi people who aren't there! This was one of the first prompts we responded to. It was called 'Moment Quote' and the prompt was this: "Use this phrase in a story: 'Never forget this moment, my child,' the old man said." I don't think this one is very good but here goes:

"Never forget this moment, my child," the old man said, "Someday, when I am gone, you will be glad you remembered." His old, spotted, and wrinkled hand slid gingerly down my shoulder to my own. He gently squeezed my hand and looked me directly in the eye.
"Remember," he whispered, "Remember, my darling. Remember." The old man slowly let go of my hand and sank back down into an old, overstuffed, upholstered chair. His warm, toothless grin glanced up at me. The corners of my mouth turned up and I slowly turned and walked away. I wandered outside, turning over in my mind what the old man had just said. 'Down, left, up, right, and under the third.' I was thoroughly confused by this. The old man had said that this sequence would become my 'key back home.' Why on earth would I need to remember that moment? I sank down to the ground beneath the old poplar tree in my backyard. I slowly drifted off to sleep as the sun lowered.

I woke with a start to the sound of hammering nails and the drone of heavy machinery. I jumped to my feet and ran towards the sound. I looked up in horror as I saw a large construction team tearing down the old man's home. I wandered into the construction site but none of the workers stopped me. In fact, they didn't seem to notice me at all. Cautiously, I stepped into the threshold of the hose, and when no one stopped me, I went in further. On the inside, the house looked exactly the same. Musty furniture and shag carpet. Victorian style furnishings and chandeliers with real candles. But what drew my attention was a small note taped to the fridge with my name on it. Tina, it read, remember. With love, Mark. That was all. Strange, I thought. I moved towards the study where Mark, the old man, had spent most of his time. There was an eerie silence as I walked down the hall. I could no longer hear the loud clanging noises from outside. I examined his antique desk with the nine drawers that formed a square. Each one had a small triangle that looked like it could be a button. What had the old man said that he wanted me to remember? Oh, Right. 'Down, left, up, right, and under the third.' I stepped up to the desk and punched each button into its drawer in the pattern Mark had said. The middle drawer on the right slid open with an earsplitting creak. In the drawer, there were six round, smooth, grayish stones. Under the third, I murmured. I lifted the third stone and everything went blank.

I groaned as I rolled over in bed. I didn't want to get up for school again. Not on a day like today when bed is too comfortable to get out of. That's when it hit me. The old man! The stone! I jumped up and ran to the window. Across the street Mark's house was perfectly intact, with no construction crew in sight. I sighed as I sunk back into bed. It was all a dream.