This flash fiction story was written as part of an exercise at a writer’s conference I was speaking at for a local middle school. We were all shown a picture and given 5 minutes to write. Then, we were shown another photo and given another 5 minutes to write. Finally we were given a third photo and 5 more minutes.
The idea, is to create a short-short story, called flash fiction using the images as idea prompts. I’ve included the images so you can see the see the genesis of this story.
If you would like to try writing your own piece of flash fiction, I’ve included a link to a flash fiction exercise.
No One Must Know
By Ida Smith
Anna Bell stared at her reflection. Could she do this? Could she hide the truth? Could she convince them she was innocent? That she knew nothing?
She worried about Tom. He knew her too well. He could always read her—he could see right through her.
She must act shocked. She must not smile. She must not show her glee, her relief.
“Take a deep breath. Stand straight. Appear calm, normal,” she told herself.
Anna Bell glanced out the window. The boy pulled the sled with the suitcases she’d secured to it away from the house.
She’d given him instructions, her voice disguised, the old scarf and hat from the attic hiding her hair. The glasses that made her vision blurry, but not so blurry she couldn’t see the doubt in his eyes.
The money helped. He had liked that. A good incentive. The job wasn’t hard. He only needed to pull the sled with the suitcase and its abominable contents and dump them in the pond. It was simple, really it was. She paused. What if the little cretin opened it? What if he came back and told Papa?
Her heart pounded in her chest. She gasped for air.
No, he wouldn’t dare. She had warned him. She remembered his fear. He would do it. She took a deep breath. He had to. She lifted her chin and left for the parlor and her needlepoint.
Hours later, Anna Bell slipped into her room—after supper—after the horrible revelation of what she’d done had been discovered. She leaned against the door and allowed her nerves to calm.
It was sooner than she had expected, but she had played her part. Shock and horror masked her face. No one suspected her, not even Tom.
Despite the cold, she was hot. She opened her window and took in the crisp air—but her breath caught.
There, in the night sky—an eye—huge and white, like a moon behind wisps of clouds. Staring down at her.
She blinked, then looked again. She hadn’t imagined it. Someone saw her.
Someone knew.
Copyright 2023, Ida Smith. No part of this may be sold or copied without express permission from the author.
Try writing your own piece of Flash Fiction.