2025 February Flash Fiction Challenge: Day 3

Some first-week reminders:

1. There is no sign-up. All you need to do is visit WritersDigest.com every day this month and click on the day’s prompt.

2. You share your works in the comments section. To find the comments, just scroll all the way down to the bottom of the page, write your story right in the text box or copy/paste (whichever you prefer!), and hit submit.

3. You don’t need to share your work to participate. A lot of writers aren’t comfortable sharing their work here. That’s totally OK! The main thing is that you’re writing something every day.

4. The system will occasionally flag stories for review. There is nothing wrong with your work; our platform does it randomly. We will be going through and releasing stories periodically between the hours of 9 a.m.–5 p.m. EST Monday through Friday. If your story is flagged, just sit tight. It’ll be released!

Today’s prompt: Write about something captured on camera.

(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 about something captured on camera:

The Nightwatch

Most of the job was spent reading through his collection of battered paperbacks, which suited him just fine. He wasn’t like the young guys, didn’t have any high-horse notions of being some kind of action hero. They were security guards, chrissake—most of the guys at the agency were Army rejects and police flunkies. Not Brass; he’d served three tours in Kuwait before most of these kids had pubes. Hell, even before some of them’d been born.

But Brass let them yap. Wasn’t worth his effort. And most of the time, they’d shut up and mess around watching videos on their phones, sullen by his lack of response. Sometimes, they even nodded off, none of them used to the soft dark of overnight watches.

Of all the places the company was contracted to, the old prison was an odd one. Empty less than five years since the new one opened up an hour south, Sentinel had been hired mostly to keep kids from coming and screwing around where they shouldn’t. Two months Brass had been assigned here, with a rotating door of guys who couldn’t stand the stillness of the job.

Tonight, he wasn’t surprised to see a new face coming down the walk, but he was surprised that it was a woman. Was it? He squinted a bit as the figure came closer, bundled into a black puffer jacket, blond hair cut close to the scalp. Smooth skin, no makeup, although the women who tended to show up to this job didn’t tend to be the makeup types. Brass sniffed and wiped the back of his hand under his nose. Could be a woman, could be a man.

“Hey,” the newbie said. Flat affect, even tone.

“Hey.” He stuck out his hand. “Name’s Brass.”

“Charlie.”

Well, that didn’t help much. Brass gave up guessing. They shook hands and Brass turned and punched in the code to let them both inside. The musty air whooshed toward the open door until it slammed resolutely behind them, echoing down the long hall.

“Buck give you the details on the job?” Brass asked.

“Yup. Pretty straightforward.”

“Hope you brought your phone charger,” Brass said.

From the oversized pocket, Charlie produced a book that looked like it’d survived a bear attack. The cover had a large dragon, ringed by fire, and the words Fire Sea in burning oranges and whites.

Brass let out a low whistle. “You got good taste, kid. But The Lost King is Weis’ best.”

“If you think that’s true, then there’s no hope for us to be civil,” Charlie deadpanned.

Brass gave Charlie a grin and led them to the little office with all the screens.

“You work a Sentinel job before?” Brass asked.

“A few. None with this many cameras.” Charlie claimed a chair on the far side of the desk, eyes scanning all the screens.

“Yeah, they keep it old school here. Job’s the same, though. Keep an eye on the cameras, try and stay awake. Someone always needs to be here in the control room. So far, only had to scare away a couple of teenagers looking for a thrill. Once, a raccoon got stuck in the outer fence. That was a night.”

Charlie hummed and kept studying the screens. Brass plugged in the little electric heater and slid the baton from his guard belt, resting it on the counter. He lowered himself into his chair with a bitten-off huff—his damn knee was acting up. He threw his book on the counter and took a swig of coffee from his thermos.

After a few moments of silence, Charlie pointed to a screen about halfway between them. Those were the screens that showed all the empty cells. “Kinda creepy.”

“Eh.” Brass sniffed and traded his thermos for his paperback—Donaldson’s This Day All Gods Die. A classic. “Only thing that ever shows up on those cameras is a rat or two. It’s the perimeter ones you have to really watch. That’s where the kids will be.”

“And the raccoons,” Charlie said.

“You bet,” Brass said with a laugh.

They settled into their respective novels. After a few minutes, the hum of the hall lights cut off. Charlie turned and gave the darkened doorway googly eyes.

“Motion sensor,” Brass explained without looking up. “They’ll go back on if you leave to use the bathroom.”

Charlie hummed unenthusiastically.

This had Brass looking up, a grin already tucked in the corner of his mouth. “Scared of the dark?”

“Not usually,” Charlie admitted. “But damn if this place isn’t creepier than I’d imagined it being.”

“You grew up around here?”

Charlie nodded. “Next town over.”

“What made you take on a job like this?”

“I’m an insomniac,” Charlie said. “And my…friend’s dad owns the company.”

Brass clocked by the hesitation over friend but moved on with a laugh. “Never knew Buck had kids. Can’t imagine it, really.”

“I could tell some stories,” Charlie said dryly. “How about you?”

He waggled his book in Charlie’s direction. “Not many jobs pay you to sit and read without earning a degree first.”

Charlie grinned at him.

They chatted for the first hour or so and then gradually shifted back into their own worlds. Charlie drew the puffer coat around their arms like a cocoon, pulling their feet up on the chair, curling into themselves. The heater clicked off and back on as it regulated the temperature. The screens hummed and stayed still as photographs. A whole lot of nothing-to-see. Brass felt his back getting stiff and shifted a bit in the chair. He cracked his neck. He drank his coffee. Charlie only moved every minute or two to look up and scan a section of the screens and turn pages.

Brass was just contemplating getting up to stretch when Charlie jolted upright, sneakers thudding on the floor. “Brass.”

Brass looked at them and then snapped his eyes to the screens. “Where?”

“There.” Charlie reached out and stabbed their finger toward a screen. Someone was standing in what used to the yard—not walking the outer perimeter, not cutting the fence. Standing in the yard.

Brass cursed and hauled himself up. “How’d he get in without us noticing the movement.”

“I don’t know, but—” Charlie stood and moved closer to the screen. “He’s just standing there. Staring at the camera. That’s weird, right?”

Brass nudged Charlie aside and got closer himself. There wasn’t much detail; these weren’t the fancy new cameras most places had. But he could clearly see the outline of a tall individual, broad like a man. And it did look like the guy was staring straight into the lens, although he was cloaked in shadow so it was difficult to tell.

“Okay.” Brass patted his belt to make sure the pepper spray was where it was supposed to be and turned to retrieve his baton. He also carried a boot knife, but that was his personal weapon and not something he advertised. “I’ll go out and get this jagoff off property. You stay here.”

“But—”

“I know the layout; I’ll deal with him,” Brass interrupted. He was starting to feel that old thrill creeping up, the one he always got before a fight. “You got your radio?”

“Yes, but—”

“Keep me posted on his movements.”

“Brass!” Charlie’s voice went tight and high. “He’s gone.”

Brass turned back from the door, eyes leaping to the screens. No movement caught his eye in the quick scan. Brass paced back, looking hard at all the black and white monitors humming away. The yard was empty. There wasn’t any movement from the cameras posted in the rec room, which was the only way someone could enter the prison from the yard. But there also wasn’t any movement from the cameras outside the yard’s fence either.

“What the fuck,” Charlie whispered.

“Stop,” Brass said. “Keep watching. He’s got to be hiding somewhere.”

Charlie’s breathing was uneven, but Brass ignored it best he could. Where are you, you fucker, Brass thought, almost furious with adrenaline.

A screen flickered to Brass’ right—one of the maintenance rooms. His head whipped to look.

“Motion lights turned on,” Charlie said.

“No, that’s not right,” Brass said. “That’s another building. You can’t get there from the yard, not that fast.”

They watched the maintenance screen for movement, the figure, anything. Nothing. After a few more agonizing seconds, the lights turned off.

“I’m calling Buck,” Brass said. “There’s got to be more than one of them.”

Charlie opened their mouth, but before they could speak, the lights in the hallway hummed on.