2024 February Flash Fiction Challenge: Day 23

For today’s prompt, write about a whispered conversation.

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 there’s a whispered conversation:

Over and Out

It took a week of whining and pestering before his sister relented and gave the second walkie-talkie to him.

“But I’m not going to talk to you on it,” she swore.

She was true to her word, but he didn’t care—he stood under the tree house, fingers clutching the talk button, and barked into the little speaker hole.

“Lisa! Mom says dinner is ready! Lisa! Dinner!”

Her face appeared in the tree house window. “You have to let go of the button to hear me talk, fart face!”

“Oh.” He released the button.

She didn’t talk into the walkie-talkie, shimmying down the ladder and tossing him a dirty look as she raced past him into the house.

“How was your day?” their dad asked them, like always.

He opened his mouth to brag about finally getting the second walkie-talkie when Lisa shrugged and said, “Fine.”

Their dad scoffed. “’Fine.’ That’s not an answer, Lisa.”

“Leave her alone,” their mother said. The mashed potatoes slopped onto her plate with the force of her scooping.

“What, I can’t ask my kids to give me more than one-word answers?”

“If she doesn’t want to talk, you shouldn’t force her.”

They carried on. The spark of excitement snuffed out. He smashed his peas with the back of a spoon and scraped them into a mushy, lopsided pile. When their dad stormed off, he met Lisa’s eyes across the table.

That night, just as he was drifting off, the walkie-talkie crackled to life.

“You there? Over.” Lisa’s voice was tinny and rumbled with static. Her room was only across the hall, but the little battery life button was flashing red.

“Yes.”

A pause. Then: “You have to say ‘over’ after you’re done talking. Over.”

“Why?”

“That’s just what you have to do! Over!” He could almost see Lisa strangling the walkie-talkie and it made him smile.

“Okay.” He paused. “Over.”

“You’re a jerk.” Then she blew a raspberry right into the speaker.

“You didn’t say ‘over!’”

A louder one.

They made fart noises back and forth for a little while but then Lisa’s end went quiet. He looked at the battery light, but it was still flashing.

“Alex?”

He blinked. “Yeah?”

“Mom and Dad fight a lot, huh?” Her voice was quiet like she was whispering.

“Yeah,” he whispered back. They didn’t talk about the fighting, not ever. He felt small again, the way he always did whenever they started in on each other. Like he didn’t even exist.

“No matter what, I’ve got your back,” Lisa said. “I promise.”

“I promise too,” he said.

“Now go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning. Over and out.”

“Goodnight, Lisa,” he said, not bothering to press the button.