2026 February Flash Fiction Challenge: Day 15
Write a piece of flash fiction each day of February with the February Flash Fiction Challenge. Today, write a story that starts in the middle of a conversation.
For today's prompt, write a story that starts in the middle of a conversation.
(Note: If your story gets flagged for review, be patient—we will be releasing comments every few hours throughout the weekdays of this challenge. Our system randomly flags comments for review, so just sit tight and wait for us to set it free! If you run into any other issues with posting your story, please just send me an e-mail at mrichard@aimmedia.com with the subject line: Flash Fiction Challenge Commenting Issue.)
Here’s my attempt at a story that starts mid-conversation:
Documentarian
“Where was I?”
“The third child had just gone missing.”
“Yes! Yes. Little Lily Haversham. Nice family. Raise those small dogs, you know, the furry ones? Beady eyes. Barked all the time.”
“Ms. Middleton. We were discussing Lily?”
“Yes. Lily. The parents were frantic, of course, anyone would be. Poor Lily. My father joined the search as soon as he could, leaving my mother home with us kids. She had the phone tree, though. All the women in the neighborhood were on that phone tree.
“I’d watched my mother work that phone my whole life. Calling out, talking, hanging up, calling out again. She knew the names of everyone’s third cousins and the times their groceries were delivered. A bird didn’t crap on that street without my mother knowing about it.”
“Did she have a theory about the disappearances?”
“Oh, yes. Many. None that she ever told us, but my brothers were always off breaking furniture and giving each other black eyes, and my sisters were old enough to be at friend’s homes making their own mischief. No one cared if I sat at the kitchen table to read my books, to listen to Mom while pretending I wasn’t. She often would call out to discuss some new idea with someone, though a lot of the time she said someone else had told her about it first.”
“Why do you think she did that?”
“Well—I don’t know. I never really thought about it. I suppose it was to throw everyone off the scent.”
“…Ms. Middleton? Grandma, are you all right?”
“I always wondered about the eyes. Strange, keeping them the way she did. In the root cellar, where any of us could find them at any time. I don’t understand how someone could do that to a child. I don’t understand how she could do that to a child. She would kiss my forehead when she tucked me in, touch her finger to my chin. Gentle. I always remember her being so gentle.”
“Why don’t we take a break. Do you need help up?”
“Hm? Oh, thank you, Roger. Such a good boy. Did I ever tell you about the time your father—”
End of session 5, The Real Pied Piper: My Great-Grandmother
