2024 February Flash Fiction Challenge: Day 2

You might have noticed that my flash pieces are super short again this year! I’m not going to force myself to stick to 100-word stories, but last year’s challenge taught me that sometimes sticking to that smaller word count unlocks my creativity!

For today’s prompt, write a story that takes place that takes place in the aftermath of something huge.

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

(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 set in the aftermath:

The Day After My Sister’s Exorcism 

My parents are hissing at each other in the kitchen, the low anger of their voices punctuated by the thunk of a coffee cup on the counter, the fridge opening and closing pointedly. I can’t quite hear what they’re saying from my point of refuge on the stairs, but the tone is familiar from the build-up of the last few months.

Above me, my sister lays in bed, body weak from her…ordeal. After the bustling authority of the priests and police, she looked almost peaceful amidst the blue and green ruffles of my pillows. Her bed was destroyed in her unmaking. My room is her sanctuary in her remaking. The sight of her triggered something dark and primal in me, even though the threat has been sent back to hell.

There’s a creak above me. I freeze; my parents’ voices stop. The whole house holds its breath. After a long pause, I hear it.

“Eloise?” my sister calls, her voice a crackling rasp. “I’m really thirsty.”

Dad appears in the kitchen doorway. His face is weary, eyes grim. His mouth is the same flat shape it’s been for months. He used to be the kind of goofy dad you’d see in a sitcom. I wonder what role they’d cast him in now.

“Eloise?”

Bile burns at the base of my throat. Mom slips around Dad, glass of water in her hand. She brushes her fingers over my shoulder as she slips past me, on her way to the room that used to be mine, to take care of the sister I no longer know.