2025 February Flash Fiction Challenge: Day 4
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 is to write about something on the news.
(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 writing about something newsworthy:
Tragedy
The news is giving an update on the missing hiker.
“Latest reports out of the base camp say that Richardson’s walking poles and his guide’s pick were discovered in a snow bank some 50 yards from the trail,” the reporter is saying gravely.
The old couple at the booth across from mine are staring at the TV, rapt.
“How tragic,” the old woman says. “He was so young, and with a family waiting for him.” She makes the sign of the cross and mutters as her husband says nothing and chews, chews, chews.
I think about men who leave their partners, their children, to chase these intangible things, these things that make them feel bigger than they are, that make them feel like men. I think about him kissing his wife on the mouth, sweet talking her into one last screw before he hops on a plane to climb some great mountain half a world away while she changes diapers and goes to doctors appointments and cooks well-balanced meals and rocks the baby to sleep and and and. I think about her taking the call that he’s gone missing, in the middle of the baby screaming and the casserole burning and the oldest whining about more screen time. I wonder if, in her secret heart of hearts, she ever had that thought: Serves him right.
“Just awful,” the old woman says.
Her husband grunts in response.
