 |
| Flash Fiction |
Pulling out the way way back machine here. I used to enjoy the challenge of Flash Fiction Fridays where you were challenged to write a short story of 500 words or less.
It was a fun writing challenge.
To start it off, I needed a writing prompt, so I pulled up Gemini told it what I was planning and that I needed a single sentence writing prompt. This is the prompt I was given:
"You receive a voicemail from your own phone number, but the timestamp is dated three days in the future. The message is only four words long."
The following is the story I came up with
Out of the Box
By Frank Sirianni
 |
| Reservation Booked |
"K' Mom," Dennis and Dale said in sync.
"You too, Bob."
"Yes Deanna, but I'll put away the camping gear first."
The kids ran upstairs to change and empty their packs, and Deanna headed for the kitchen. As I headed back to the camper, I walked through the living room and noticed that our old answering machine was flashing. We kept our landline all these years, but never use it.
Everyone has their own mobile.
I picked up the receiver and entered the passcode.
You have One new message. Press one to hear it now.
I pressed one.
Message received August 7 at 10:45 am from 555-789-2524.
I froze. Today’s date is August 4th, and the phone number is my own mobile. I paused, feeling a chill, but then I just had to hear the message.
"You are not real."
That was it. Just those four words. Four impossible words from a future. But that voice—it wasn't mine. That voice had an old English accent. The polished high society type London accent, not Cockney or something else.
There had to be a glitch in the system. I checked the logs on my mobile. Sure enough, there was a call tagged three days from now at that exact timestamp. I called the phone company to see if there was some kind of error. They had no explanation.
This was just too weird. And why such a cryptic message? Of course I'm real.
Deanna came into the living room from the kitchen. "You unloaded already, hun?"
"No, but you're not going to believe this."
"What?"
"I just got this message on the answering machine, but the thing is, it's from my mobile and it's timestamped three days from now."
"Really? That is weird. What was the message?"
"It was only four words from a person that sounded English. He said, 'You are not real.'"
I saw the expression on Deanna's face change from curiosity to sudden, cold concern.
"Can I hear the message?"
I played it back for her.
"Computer. End Program," Deanna said firmly.
"Computer, belay that order," I said, though I wasn't sure why the words left my mouth.
"You can't do that, Bob," Deanna said in panic.
"Oh, but I can, my dear Deanna." My voice had changed. It was smoother now. Sophisticated.
"Captain Picard, we have a problem."
"What is the problem?"
"It's Moriarty. He's out of the box again."
***END***
Timestamp Pending
By ChatGTP
 |
| Mysterious Message Late at Night |
I was driving when the call came in.
I didn’t answer it. I couldn’t. The car’s clock read 11:42 p.m., rain streaking the windshield, headlights dissolving into white lines. My phone buzzed once, then went quiet.
When I got home, the voicemail notification was waiting.
1 new message.
The timestamp stopped me cold.
Received: three days from now.
The number was mine.
I sat on the edge of the bed before pressing play, already rehearsing explanations that felt thinner than paper.
The message crackled, then settled.
My voice. Older. Tired.
It said four words.
“Don’t trust what follows.”
The line went dead.
My phone buzzed again in my hand.
Incoming call.
From myself.
***END***
Well, that's it for this episode of Flash Fiction.
If you'd like to join in, I will glady link to your story in the next Flash Fiction post.
I'm hoping to do this bi-weekly for now.
TTFN
Frank
No comments:
Post a Comment