On the Table

Shell a halfshell Photo by Regine Tholen on Unsplash shell
Welcome back to Fiction Friday. Today’s bit of Flash Fiction comes from a book of Prompts I keep near my laptop.

A Fiction Friday Post

A character walks into the kitchen at the end of the day. He finds something on the kitchen table that is not supposed to be there.

The Pocket Muse:  Ideas and Inspiration for Writing

Monica Wood ©2002 Writer’s Digest Books

Ray Holms let himself in through the back door. He places his cellphone and keys in the seashell he keeps on the counter top. It has been a full day, he only wants to eat, shower and get off his feet, maybe get in a few hours of Naked and Afraid.

He takes a macaroni and cheese from the freezer and pops it into the microwave and sets the timer.

Ray is so tired he doubts he can form a single coherent thought at this point. He toes off his shoes and shrugs out of his jacket. In sock feet he pads to the table.

Mid-stride, he freezes, the world drops out from under him and an actual noise sounds in his head. Like a soundtrack in a horror film. He breaks into an instant flop sweat.

“Shit.” Ray glances around the kitchen, at the door, then listens intently to the sound of the microwave. It is silent.

Ray draws himself up and walks almost on tippy toes to the front room, then down the short hallway, pausing at the bedroom and bathroom. Nothing.

He realizes he hasn’t been breathing and makes an effort to calm himself. Breathing in to the count of four, holding, out to four. Gathering his wits and centering his thoughts. He returns to the table as the microwave chimes and goes quiet.

“How, who?” He picked up the stuffed toy, he could see Sophia as clearly as the day he rescued her. She carried the toy by one foot and called it Toe Toe. After he had safely delivered the child and returned home, he found Toe Toe in the back seat of his car.

It was stupid to keep it, the damned toy was an actual part of the Missing Child Poster, in the description and the picture. He was caught. He didn’t know who or how but he was caught. As if to confirm this world stopping event came banging at the front door. He made a move toward the kitchen door, eyeing his keys when that door banged open.

“I saved that girl.” He stated simply before asking for his lawyer.


Francesco Ungaro

Feel free to click around on my many blog posts. This site has been around forever. There are many posts under the Category “Writerly Wednesday” and “Fiction Friday.” The rest are the last ten years of my life. More or less.

Till next time.. Don’t touch anything sharp.

Sally Franklin Christie