2024 February Flash Fiction Challenge: Day 21

For today’s prompt, write a story about someone answering a call.

Remember: These prompts are just starting points; you have the freedom to go wherever your flash of inspiration takes you.

(Note: If you run into any 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 where someone answers a call:

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They called her when she was on her deathbed.

Sarah answered, pulling the phone off its wall receiver. Mae never did get around to getting a handheld, even though the kids were always urging her to.

“Hello?” Sarah said, voice thick.

Mae lay in bed, breaths labored, listening to Sarah listen. Maybe it was one of her cousins calling to check in. Or the lovely nurse from the hospital who called a few times a week to see how Sarah was faring. Or even Pastor Roger, who had been kind enough to organize a casserole train, even as Mae’s appetite got smaller and smaller.

But then Sarah was shrieking, “She doesn’t even own a car, you scumbag! You fuck! My mother is in the other room dying, and this is what you’re doing with your life, you absolute—”

Suddenly, Mae was somewhere else. She blinked and looked around—it was like she’d been transported back in time to her mother’s living room. The radio was playing her mother’s favorite song, and she could hear the sounds of birds and lawnmowers through the open window. She was seated in her father’s chair, the one that always smelled a little like his cologne and the grease that all mechanics have embedded in their skin. The same wallpaper, the same carpet—it was as if no time had passed at all since she was a small girl.

Tears welled up and she put her hand to her chest. No matter how many years went by, how many homes she had, this was her happy place. And now she would spend eternity here.

The phone across the room started ringing. Mae blinked a few times to clear her vision. She stood on legs that did not shake or twinge, and her body felt healthy and strong as she went to the small table by the door.

She picked the phone up from its cradle and held it to her ear, heart in her throat. “Mom?”

“Hello!” A slightly robotic voice greeted her enthusiastically. “I’m reaching out to talk to you about your car’s extended warranty.”