Always Get Back Up (Kit)

 Always get back up (prompt: “get back up you’re embarrassing yourself”) 

Going flying across the room and landing flat on my back against the hard mats and harder floor wasn't how I’d originally planned to start my morning. Parts of my body hurt that I didn’t know were physically capable of hurting. “Get back up, you’re embarrassing yourself.” is the only acknowledgement I get from the old master who sits watching. I double check that I’m not bleeding or anything while catching my breath before hauling myself to my feet. Grabbing the sparring staff from where it had landed I remark that “I’m fine, nothing's broken, thank you for asking.” all I get in response is a noise that signals I’m on thin ice as it is, and not to push it. Yuuri stands on the other side of the sparring mat, patiently waiting for me to gather my wits before we spar again. Why the insistence on staff sparring practice and other techniques for everyone I’ll never understand. I suppose it does build character, and teaches one to always get back up- either for the purposes of self preservation to avoid embarrassment, or more practically to avoid getting killed while prone. Still, I don’t enjoy it, my skills are much more suited for appearing and disappearing unnoticed and quick close encounters. Aside from learning resilience, and the many places that can ache immensely the day after, this doesn’t accomplish much, for me at least. Yuuri, I suppose, finds it beneficial, unfortunately for me- I just get my ass kicked. Such is the way of a typical Tuesday.

Character Reference: Carter "Kit" Oneil

 Full name: Carter “Kit” O’Neil 

Languages spoken: Breton, Dunmeri, Common

Birthday: May 21st 3E 402

Age: 25

Height: 5’3”

Weight: 120

Eye color: blue-green

Hair color: Blonde

Race: Breton

Significant other: Yuuri Seki

Children: none

Class: rogue

Profession: member of the thieves guild 

Gender: male

Gender expression: masculine

Pronouns: he/him

Sexual Orientation: Gay

Romantic Orientation: Homoromantic

Known disabilities: ADHD mixed type

Siblings: none

Parents: unknown

Current Residence: Seki household, Morrowind

Aliases/ Also Known As: Kit, Kitten, Kitty-cat

Flash Fiction February 2026 Day Twenty Six: The Space Between (Abigail)

 Flash Fiction February 2026 Prompt: Between (a character discovers a secret door in an otherwise ordinary place) 

This is fascinating! Who knew you could engineer stone to move in such a way that pressing a button causes it to pull back and reveal a secret passage? I certainly didn’t, and especially not in such a seemingly ordinary place like a cemetery. Though, I guess, having secret doors in a place like this would make sense, but only for fancy old crypts to hide treasures. A button that when pushed moves a whole sarcophagus out of the way to reveal a staircase down to a secret hideout though, that is very unexpected. I find it interesting that this odd engineering marvel leads to the Ragged Flagon and the Thieves Guild's living quarters in the Ratway rather than some spooky Dark Brotherhood sanctuary. The Thieves Guild does occasionally have to kill people, but only in dire situations, or sometimes it happens by accident. Contract killings go to the Dark Brotherhood. Some of our clients however employ both organizations. We walk the line between life and death in a way. Walking down the cold stone steps kept hidden by day under the mausoleum into the darkness of the tunnel system I find myself very cognizant of that fact. While killing is not part of the job description, a thief still encounters excesses of death, life, and everywhere in between, it’s those realms of being that have the most worth stealing. The dead don’t need their gold, those marked among the living spend their time living in excess. Those between the two sometimes simply have things that are wanted by certain people. To find out why requires reading between the lines, and having friends in high places. 

Flash Fiction February 2026 Day Nineteen: Warning Signal (Lukas)

 Flash Fiction February 2026 Prompt: Warning (a solution introduces a new problem immediately) 

How exactly we found ourselves in Necrom is a series of events I cannot remember with reasons to justify the trip being even less though if I had to guess I would bet that Fyr may just want to talk to some old friends of his. Of course, if that is in fact why we’re stuck here in the city of the dead, he would drag us along for the ride. Really I should just ask Naomi but she seems to be otherwise engaged in poking around the strange city and recording observations. Maybe the trip was her idea, which makes it marginally less terrible…though not by much. The architecture is unusual compared to other cities I’ve been in. That should be expected I suppose since all other cities I’ve ever been to have been made by and for the living and not the dead. Fyr and Naomi look around interested in everything the unnerving city has to offer. Simon and Elisheva stick close to me both just as anxious as I am. Liat, on the other hand, trails curiously after her sister. Not close enough to directly engage with any of the buildings or other objects of Naomi's investigation, but close enough to observe from a distance. A few spirits wander through the city here and there ignoring the living. That is until we get to one who stops dead in its tracks, no pun intended, and stares at me for a very long time. With night beginning to fall more and more spirits begin to appear as the formerly quiet city comes back to life, in a very much undead way. Suddenly a heavy wool cloak is thrown over me before I can react otherwise. While I’m busy trying to find my way out from under the cloak I hear a sigh of relief and Fyr calls out “It’s gone!” from somewhere nearby. I assume it was him who threw the cloak over me. The relief is short-lived as the call is followed by a significantly less pleased noise shortly after. Once I finally manage to get the heavy garment off I can see what the commotion was about. On the place where the strange spirit had been standing is a circle that looks as if it had been burned into the ground with what looks to be writing. We congregate around the odd marking in the attempt to figure out what in the world just happened. Fyr kneels to further inspect the ash-like residue and makes another noise signaling something between curiosity and displeasure before giving me a long hard stare. I don’t like when he does that. I know he’s just thinking, but the intense eye contact is unnerving, and I dislike even regular eye contact at the best of times. Liat I notice pulls out a book from her pack and begins to look through it. “Well it appears that it’s a good thing we came to visit. Something's afoot, and I intend to find out what, starting with this.” Fyr tells the group as he gets up, pointing to the odd burned mark. “Why the ancestor spirit left a marking like this is quite unusual. And why it reacted that way in the first place, disappearing only when Lukas was made to be out of its sight, however rudimentary that solution was, even more so.” he explains, taking a moment to thank Elisheva for lending her cloak in a time of need. 
“Isn’t that supposed to be some kind of omen?” Liat pipes up from the back of the group referencing a page in the book she had been flipping through that has some rather scary looking illustrations. Just our luck. Of course the solution to the current mystery problem turns out to be some sort of warning insight into a much larger, much more dangerous, very likely supernatural problem. That’s just wonderful. Why do I agree to get dragged into these adventures again?

Flash Fiction February 2026 Day Seventeen: Shelter From The Storm (Liat)

 Flash Fiction February 2026 Prompt: Shelter (write a story where the setting is as active and influential as any character)

The desert is far more dangerous and unpredictable than anyone tends to think. Shifting sands swallow cities whole. Once mighty civilizations become forever lost to the unforgiving sands of time. Places offering shelter from the sweltering heat in the day, and the freezing cold in the night, are few and far between. In the blink of an eye an otherwise seemingly endless view of nothing but sand and sky can turn into a nightmare where seeing more than a few feet ahead is impossible. Sandstorms can appear suddenly and disappear just as suddenly leaving only havoc in their wake. Crossing such dangerous terrain requires skill, staying alert watching for seemingly minor changes, and a high degree of preparedness before venturing on. Having set out equipped with plenty of food, water, and lightweight protective layers of clothing the most significant challenge on my journey will be making it to the next place of shelter. With still many more miles to go I feel a familiar change in the wind as a breeze coming from the sea, already so far away, makes its way inland. Looking at the map I calculate how much time it will take as I continue at a steady, if slightly faster pace. Alright desert, if that’s how you’re going to play then let’s play…though, preferably, only once I’ve got a nice sturdy stone roof over my head and walls to shelter from the oncoming mass of wind and sand.  

Flash Fiction February 2026 Day Sixteen: Old Rules Made New (Valan)

Flash Fiction February 2026 Prompt: Rules (a rule is enforced for the first time in years) 

Caius looks at me in a way that makes me worry his eyes may just pop right out of his head. “They said what?!” he nearly yells but quickly comes to his senses and quiets down, you never know who else might be listening after all. “They said what?!” He repeats in a harsh whisper about my strange encounter last night with a couple of people who spoke nonsense about some lord and the return of a lost house that had been “sleeping” awaiting the fulfillment of a prophecy. Apparently these weirdos thought I figured into their plan somehow and grabbed me in the middle of the street while out for a late night walk. Had I not woken up with a bruise on my arm from where one had held an iron grip to keep me from running off I would have thought it all a nightmare. A really, really, really, weird nightmare. “Any ideas what they were on about?” I ask Caius who has since stopped looking at me like I had three heads and instead now paces around the small sparsely furnished house in circles. A hand on his head running through his thinning grey hair the other hand anxiously fidgeting with a spare piece of string that had come loose from the pocket of his pants. Per usual, he still isn’t wearing a shirt, the weather is too hot here for him apparently, and it’s part of his undercover assignment to look like an eccentric neighbor in order to be left alone. “You haven’t mentioned this to anyone else have you?” The spymaster asks, his voice sounding increasingly anxious. “No. Just you.” He sighs in relief. “Keep it that way.” I hesitate in asking but decide to question why. “Every few years somebody comes along claiming to be the reincarnation of Nerevar, which has something to do with an Ashlander religious prophecy. While they’re generally left alone, the Tribunal Temple really doesn’t like it when they bring up that prophecy. They like it even less when people turn up saying they’ve got something to do with it. That’ll get you labeled a heretic real quick. Being labeled a heretic will get you impaled by an Ordinator even quicker. Don’t say anything to anybody.” Well that’s terrifying. “Got it?” I give a mock salute “Yes sir!” the spy only sighs tiredly as he sits on the unmade bed. “We’ve already been over the rest of the rules, but here’s one we haven’t talked about yet because it hasn’t been needed in years; keep your mouth shut when asked about prophecies.” That’s an oddly specific rule. I know better than to question the spymasters rules though, they’ve been compiled over decades of service. I wonder what was going on whenever the last time that rule had to be used was?
 

Flash Fiction February 2026 Day Fifteen: Just Pretend (Fyr)

 Flash Fiction February 2026 Prompt: Pretend (two enemies must act as though they are on the same side) 

Well this is just great, teaming up with one of the people I loathe most in the world. Of course it had to work out this way, just my luck. “Just so you’re aware this isn’t forgiveness for the whole mechanical invasion thing.” I’m given only a silent shrug in return. “You know, I liked you a lot more before you got all holier-than-thou and refused to see me.” Another silent shrug. “Oh please, it used to be impossible to get you to shut up! Won’t you at least say something?” A pause in our walk through the gardens, which are at least quite nice, that’s been a skill kept up. “Something.” A quiet, monotone, almost mechanical voice says. “You cheeky bastard if only I were taller I’d strangle you myself” a glance downward “And yet, you are not.” The swift pace of walking is picked up again without effort. “Beneath that icy exterior I know you still have feelings. You’ve always been good at playing pretend.” Again we stop, and a long thin arm gestures to the beautiful gardens, with their flowing little waterfalls and fish ponds, and in the distance a wooden pagoda stands. It is a tranquil paradise in many ways. “Perhaps you’re right, old friend. I have always been good at pretending. Perhaps even all of this is just pretend. A perfect, make believe world, away from all the rest of the noise and the chaos. Like living in a bubble.” In a way it is a methodically engineered little bubble. “Well, pretend or otherwise, will you help me save the real world this time or not?” Finally, a tiny second of eye contact. “I would be honored to do so.”

Flash Fiction February 2026 Day Fourteen: A Scar Forever Unhealed (Yue)

 Flash Fiction February 2026 Prompt: Scar (write a scene without stating any thoughts directly imply them only through character action) 

Start time: 0214 

Dr. Yue Ruolan Tan, Medical Examiner, performing Forensic Autopsy of Jane Doe.

Full written report to follow.  

Age: 26 

Identified by civilian walking dog. 

Received with clothing and personal effects including a wallet, a diamond ring, and a small leather bag intact. No obvious tears to clothing. 

TOD estimate based on initial liver temperature: within the past 24 hours postmortem findings consistent with this estimate. 

Initial external examination shows ocular petechiae and bruising pattern consistent with manual strangulation. Additional bruising found throughout the body. Debris samples taken from fingernails- labs pending. Scars on bilateral forearms. ? Past defensive wounds in appropriate context. Surgical scarring at left knee, LRQ abdomen noted. 

Beginning internal examination with Y incision from clavicle. 

Initial examination of abdominal cavity reveals absent appendix. All other organs present. Weights of individual organs, descriptions, and tissue sample results can be found in full report. 

Upon completion of full dissection and internal examination organs were returned. Incisions closed according to procedure for minimal cosmetic damage. Scars from past defensive wounds visible depending on body position. 

Post completion of additional labs, a complete autopsy report will be available in approximately 15 weeks with summary, detailed report on findings, and hypothesized cause of death. 

End time: 0619 

Flash Fiction February 2026 Day Thirteen: A Different Set Of Instructions (Valan)

 Flash Fiction February 2026 Prompt: Different (Tell a story about a set of instructions that gradually stop being about the original task) 

Why I agree to do random tasks for Ayron is a question I find myself wondering almost as much as I do with agreeing to do tasks for Neloth. Usually this occurs while in the middle of doing such tasks, and regretting agreeing to do them. Today's task at hand involves doing some work in Ayron's makeshift museum devoted to Dwemer history and culture. A rather impressive collection that was compiled over years of travel, visits to excavation sites, and thoughtful insight from the last known living member of the Dwemer. While the mechanical marvels are certainly technological and artistic wonders, they’re also sometimes quite deadly. Rolling metal spheres unravel into sophisticated fighting machines, giant centurions can crush a man easily, and mechanical spiders are somehow even more terrifying than the real ones. Thankfully there is really only one potentially deadly machine in Ayron's little museum, a centurion that appears to have gotten damaged somehow over its long existence. On a small table immediately left of entering the door to the meticulously organized set of rooms is a note with a list of instructions. In typical Ayron fashion, the list starts off with things that need urgent doing relating to the primary task at hand, and slowly drift further and further from their original point often ending with a completely different topic. The instructions begin by telling me to dust around any objects not in protective cases, then to check the locks on the aforementioned cases, and to very carefully attempt to clean the area around the centurion without touching it- it’s rather temperamental. From there on the instructions fall apart into a mix of different things to do some more relevant than others. The list ends with a reminder to get milk, something not exactly relevant to a day spent cleaning a museum. 

Flash Fiction February 2026 Day Twelve: Getting Off On The Wrong Foot (Anna)

 Flash Fiction February 2026 Prompt: Wrong (Write about a conflict that grows out of a simple misunderstanding)

“I think that something may have possibly gotten lost in translation…” I say to Farkas as we stand overlooking the quite frankly very confusing scene unfolding before our eyes. “You think?” is all he has to say in return. That’s all that needs to be said in all honesty. Where did this go wrong? Standing on a walkway looking down on the Castle Dour courtyard, stepping aside every so often to avoid patrolling soldiers on watch, we observe a rather peculiar sight. The Imperial Legion argue with members of The Thalmor who have taken up residence in part of the castle. Why the Aldmeri Dominion agents don’t simply stay in the embassy not too far away is beyond me, it’s really just a stones throw outside the city. On a clear day one can sometimes see its uninviting pointy spires in the distance. Since the end of The Great War there has been a pact in place giving the Dominion much greater control when it comes to matters of the Imperial Empire, a fact that is not much liked throughout the empire, and especially not here. With a language barrier at times in place it’s easy for matters to get lost in translation, and from there everything spirals until the whole plan has gone entirely wrong. That appears to be the case here from the bits and pieces we can overhear of the shouting. An argument behind closed doors between the two groups isn’t anything new, but out here in the open is certainly unexpected. Something must have really gone wrong for such a visible confrontation. “Do we really have nothing better to do than stand eavesdropping?" Farkas asks me, clearly growing bored as time passes and the conversation draws on. I wave him off “This is important information.” I say trying to catch more bits and pieces of the conversation “Important? Important for what?!” A soldier on patrol passes by giving us a questionable look. “For potential matters of national security and the fate of your country that’s what.” I tell him matter of fact-ly and am given a silent expressionless, unamused, stare in return. “They’re arguing over dinner.” At that moment I hear the familiar sound of a heavy wooden door closing behind me and turning around am faced with yet another peculiar sight. Out of the building housing the Thalmor agents has come none other than Lucien LaChance, or the spectral version of him anyways. “What are you-?” I begin to ask but am cut off by a very quick “You saw nothing. Nothing.” before he disappears into thin air. Why he bothered to come out the door at all rather than disappear to wherever it is he goes to when doing that while still in the building baffles me. Then again, Lucien LaChance has been and likely always will be a bit of a mystery, with motives and plans known only to himself. Though, when a frazzled looking Isabelle Belet comes out a moment later, haphazardly discarding a chef's outfit with utmost urgency on the way out before giving us a similar command I can only feel like their plan for the day may have gone more than just a bit wrong…

Flash Fiction February 2026 Day Eleven: Absense (Leah Thenath)

 Flash Fiction February 2026 Prompt: Absence (Write a scene using only sentences of six words or fewer)

A Single Teardrop Falls
Unseen By The Living World
Absence Felt By None

Flash Fiction February 2026 Day Ten: A Last Act Of Love (Xianru)

 Flash Fiction February 2026 Prompt: Love (A character handles an ordinary task with unusual and over-the-top care)

It’s always a difficult task to find the missing, especially those who have been gone for quite some time. I think people understand that- that while all efforts go into searching there is no guarantee a search will turn up anything. An unfortunate number of trails eventually run cold, the cases filed away and tucked into storage, a place they will most likely remain forever. On rare occasions new information comes to light, though it’s very rarely pleasant. I’ve never liked having to go over to that archive with all its many boxes of files sitting silently in the dim light collecting dust. It feels like a tomb. In this instance however, I have no choice, looking down at the many pages of paper scattered on my desk, this will be the newest addition to that silent archive. Consolidating the sheets into a single neat stack I clip them together before placing them into the plain beige file. Attached to the outer cover is a slip of paper with a name and a highly detailed drawing. Mentally steeling myself I grab my coat and begin the long solemn walk to the archive, carrying the file carefully with both hands. It rains softly as I walk the quiet streets making the journey from one building to another. The city sleeps blissfully unaware of my task. A sad, strange memorial  procession of one as a last act of love and recognition for the one who will join the ranks of the lost souls forgotten by the rest of the world. Entering the building I’m greeted by the night clerk who gives me a sad look upon noticing the folder in my hands before unlocking the door to the basement, allowing me to find my way on my own time. Standing at the doorway to the storage area I look through the metal grating at the shelves of boxes that seem to go on forever. Unlocking the creaky old door I push it open and wander the aisles until I find the correct spot. A brown box with a lid and a little card on the front that states the alphabetical range of its contents. Looking one final time at the file in my hands I run a few fingers over the name and the picture, as if trying to burn them into memory. “Goodnight.” I whisper to the girl in the picture before placing the file into the box and closing the lid. “I’m sorry.” Once finished I turn and walk out of the storage locker, back up the stairs, and exit the building, not once looking back. Standing in the quiet midnight in the rain among the darkened buildings only then do I realize that the tears have begun to fall. 

Flash Fiction February 2026 Day Nine: A Voice In The Dark (Xialing)

 Flash Fiction February 2026 Prompt: Voice (write a complete scene using dialogue alone without any dialogue tags or exposition)

“Two jobs: put the offerings for the ancestors and sweep the floor, that shouldn't be too bad. If I’m fast I can still make it in time for sword practice! What's that glowing stuff? That doesn’t look like a torch. Hello, is somebody there?”
“Can you see me?” 
“Not exactly, but I can hear your voice just fine. Are you the little blue glowing fuzzy outline that looks vaguely person shaped?”
“Yes, I am. I can come closer if that helps.” 
“Oh no, that’s fine. I’m just here to clean up quickly, and leave this basket with offerings for the ancestors to keep them happy. I wouldn't want to accidentally crash into you.” 
“That’s very kind of you to keep up the shrine so dutifully. It is greatly appreciated. If you need to clean I won’t keep you.” 
“No it’s okay, please, stay. Or can you at least tell me your name before you leave?”
“You’ll learn that eventually.”
“So should I just call you ‘Voice’ for now?”
“Sure.”
“Alright then, ‘Voice’ it is. Hey, Voice? Can you describe yourself to me while I work? It helps to form a mental picture, and it’s nice to have company for otherwise boring tasks.”
“Of course. It’s nice to have someone to talk to.”
“Makes the time go faster too.”
“Yes, it does. Obviously, you already know the glowing blue part so that’s out of the way. I’m a bit shorter than you are, my hair is almost curly and pulled back. The clothes I have on are pretty plain without much adornment.”
“Could you describe them for me?”
“There is a dress with a long skirt, a shirt with flowing sleeves, and a robe tied with a sash to keep it all together. Of course I have shoes too, and my lantern.” 
“Why do you have a lantern?”
“To light the way.”
“The way to what?”
“You’ll find out eventually.”
“Voice…Are you an ancestor?”
“I am, just not your ancestor.” 
“If you’re not my family's ancestor, how come you’re here? Don’t you have your own shrine?”
“No. I’m looking for someone.” 
“Who?”
“My brother.”
“Why?”
“To bring him back into the light.” 

Flash Fiction February 2026 Day Eight: Home At Last (Valan)

I was torn between making this either a fun little return journey or making it really sad but decided to save the emotional damage for another day.

 Flash Fiction February 2026 Prompt: Home (someone who has been missing for a long time returns)

It’s astonishing how much and how little things change over time. Depending on the situation one can return to a place that feels as if it has been stuck in stasis for years, with nothing changed, or find the place they once knew has changed dramatically. Sometimes we find that what we knew all those years ago no longer even exists. Setting eyes on Sadrith Mora for the first time in over twenty years brings up conflicting feelings as the bargeman expertly navigates the waters moving us slowly towards the docks. In many ways it is still the same blurry, wet, mushroom tower dotted island I remember watching from where I sit as more of the island comes into slightly clearer view. It’s smaller than I remember it being, though, that said I was very young when I was last here. Taking a breath I find the sea air is still the same. Rain clouds move overhead signaling an oncoming storm. The trees are beginning to blossom with the first signs of spring, and lanterns dot the small island with a soft glowing light. Night begins to fall with the sun setting in the west, come morning it will once again rise here in the east and begin its journey across the sky just as it does every day. Stepping off the boat onto the old wooden dock I thank the bargeman for the ride, paying him what little I have, and bid him farewell. Turning towards the small gatehouse I find an old man looking at me, face as white as snow, like he’d seen a ghost. “You’re home.” he whispers to himself while still staring at me, shocked, and quickly scurries away, whispering those words seriously trying to make sense of the situation over and over again. He rushes towards the large tower in the center of the town, the heavy wooden door to the building so loud I can hear it creak and slam all the way from where I stand looking at the gate. Yes, old man, you’re correct. I am home, at long last.

Flash Fiction February 2026 Day Seven: Law And Order (Kit)

 Flash Fiction February 2026 Prompt: Order (a character moves into a place with an unusually long list of rules)
For all the noise and frenetic movement of Vivec City I never would have expected there to be so many rules. I suppose that is what happens when you have an entire group of specialized guards devoted to maintaining order. Is that why they are called Ordinators? They look rather menacing with their heavy metal helmets and armor, not the type of people I’d want to get on the bad side of. Though it’s only a matter of time until I will inevitably end up on their bad side if previous experience counts for anything. I’ve never been the best when it comes to following rules and order. In many ways I’m the very opposite to order, after all to have order there needs to be chaos. Looking at the unusually long list of rules that are displayed at the entrance to the foreign quarter I briefly look over them, noting the potential fines and punishments that may be incurred as a result, and walk right past them on my way towards the next bridge. I have a new place to explore and people to meet, rules be damned. 

Flash Fiction February 2026 Day Six: Useful (Abigail)

 Flash Fiction February 2026 Prompt: Useful (show who a character is only through what they do with objects) A very short response for today's prompt as it was a long day.

To live and work in the shadows requires a considerable knowledge of the various very useful tools that come into play quite frequently. A gloved hand slips in and out of pockets unnoticed. A hood obscures the face allowing anonymity. The smart thief retrieves their broken lock picks before an escape, should they break them at all, leaving no trace of the incident. Enchanted boots allow for silent movement across rooftops in the night. All of these objects sit neatly in a pile next to a much more haphazardly organized pile of recent acquisitions. With a new job in hand I begin the process of donning each piece of equipment. They will once again prove to be very useful. 

Flash Fiction February 2026 Day Five: Different (Xialing)

 

1. Flash Fiction February 2026 Prompt: Different (someone notices a detail everyone else can’t or won’t see) 

Everybody always said I was “different” and used it as an excuse to make a fuss about things that really were quite typical if not outright boring. Sure, I don’t look like everybody else. Yes, I use special equipment to get around safely. Fine, I’m “different” according to most. So what? Differences are what make people so interesting and each person is unique. Just because I can’t see doesn’t mean I don’t have other skills, they’re just different to what most people are used to. I pick up on details that a lot of people miss because they’re too busy looking at the situation, and aren’t spending enough time listening to what’s going on right under their noses…or ears? It comes in handy a surprising amount. So much happening every hour of every day and yet thousands of tiny details slip away undetected by those who can’t…or won’t…see the entire picture. A brilliant combination of all the senses just waiting to be uncovered by an ever vigilant observer. Wandering home one afternoon as the sun begins to set, the rhythmic tap-tap-tapping of a cane guiding my way down the familiar streets. Steps that take me across the bridges that cross over the canals and through winding alleyways I stop suddenly in my tracks. Standing in the middle of one of the bridges that connects Saint Olms to one of the other Cantons something catches my attention, there’s something on the air. An inexplicable feeling in the wind, a peculiar quality to the breeze that seems to carry a song both silent and resonating so loud it’s as if I can clearly hear it. A melody that mixes with the ever changing flow of the tides from the water below. Leaves swirl around me, lifted off the stone walkway by the wind before being carried away left to fall gracefully like small pink butterflies into the water to be carried out to sea. The rest of the passerby don’t seem to notice anything different and ignore the subtle weather change. Whatever- or whoever- is the cause of such phenomena I’m going to find. I think it will be alright if I take a quick detour on the way home. Rummaging through my bag I pull out a soft brown patterned cap, putting it on and adjusting my coat, armed with only the best of tools stuffed in the bottom of my pack. “Detective Li Xialing is on the case!” I tell myself triumphantly, while an old lady gives me a noise that I can only imagine goes with a look of both disappointment and immense confusion. Too bad for her, she can’t see what I see, or don’t see, and I have a mystery to solve.

Flash Fiction February 2026 Day Four: Belief (Valan)

 

1. Flash Fiction February 2026 Prompt: Belief (a ritual that was supposed to be symbolic starts to actually work)

“Has anyone actually tested to see whether or not this is going to truly work or are we flying blind here?” At the question I hear a voice that I identify to be Ayron's pipe up with “It’s been tested before, sure. Does it actually work? Supposedly, if you’re really the chosen one at least.” there’s a pause, followed by a mumbled “if you’re not then it was nice knowing you…everyone else has died.” much less cheerfully than he’d begun the answer originally. Well that’s cold comfort. At least I’d be missed? Why the wise women believe I’m some sort of reincarnation I don’t think I’ll ever understand. It would explain the strange occurrences lately though with  random assassins popping up here and there, strange dreams, and apparently on one or two occasions I’ve appeared almost as if someone were controlling me. If that’s the case I’d very much like Nerevar to stop doing that. After all, I have things to do, and places to be, with important people who do not take kindly to being ignored. Mentally preparing myself I get ready to face what could possibly be my demise. Ayron wishes me good luck, and reminds me to believe in myself. I can’t quite tell if he’s joking or not. Belief can be a powerful thing, though, and stepping into the cave I feel as if I’m about to find out exactly how powerful it can be. Eventually I complete the trials expected of me by the goddess and come to the final test- an enchanted ring. The whole ritual, which for centuries has proven more symbolic and a way to hold on to hope and the belief in the prophecy than anything else, is nearly complete. Taking a breath to calm myself I pick up the ring. Holding my breath, closing my eyes tightly should something awful happen, and certainly looking ridiculous I very quickly slip the ring on my finger with an involuntary yelp. A moment passes. I peek open one eye and then relax. I’m not dead! “Now that is a nice ring” I say aloud to myself admiring the enchanted piece of jewelry now proving I am what the wise women and their long held belief said I am. A second later my thoughts are interrupted by a very otherworldly voice. Looking around confused and in awe I say to no one in particular, perhaps rhetorically to my friends waiting for me once I return.  “I know you guys said this was mostly symbolic…but I think it’s working…”

Flash Fiction February 2026 Day Three: Change (Lukas)

 Flash Fiction February 2026 Prompt: Change (write a story that shifts genres partway through) A little mystery into horror that I didn’t feel like expanding upon at the moment but may another time.

It is said that change is a part of life. The flow of time moves ever onward and mortals powerless to stop it. Just as one cannot interfere with the fates or truly diverge from their destined path it is impossible to change the fact that there will always be change occurring. Every second, every minute, in every hour of every day there are constant changes- some large and others so small they are practically invisible. I don’t like change. I never have, and I never will. Luckily, some things never change, a small blessing I am very grateful for. One thing that seems to never change is that there will always be mysteries. Never ending plots to uncover, artifacts to dig up, crimes to solve, in one way or another a new mystery always turns up with more exciting bits of information to uncover. This newest mystery that I’ve stumbled upon, however, seems less exciting and more horrifying. There are whispers of a plague in the south. A disease so terrible it makes the victims wish they had gotten blighted instead. To honestly wish for a slow demise that disfigures and drives one mad truly puts into perspective how awful whatever this is can be. The mental images imagined by my overactive mind keep me awake at night, and every little noise jolts me from sleep the closer we get to the site of the outbreak. It is not until a small investigative team made up of Naomi, Fyr, Naryu, and myself actually encounter a victim that puts the disease in context. I have never seen a person so changed both physically and mentally they have quite literally become a husk of their former self, and to witness such a thing is utterly horrifying.

Flash Fiction February 2026 Day Two: What A Steal! (Kit)

 

1. Flash Fiction February 2026 Prompt: Steal (a thief discovers the item they stole was meant for them)

There’s nothing quite like wandering the streets of Vivec City, with all its busy passerby going in and out of each Canton throughout the day. One can find merchants, mages, priests, and more, as well as plenty of guards always on patrol. They’re not the friendliest bunch, the Ordinators, in fact they’re rather intimidating. Despite the harsh words and heavy armor lurking around every corner it’s still possible to find ways of getting things I want without others realizing. The foreign quarter in particular is the easiest and most accessible area as I blend right in with the rest of the visitors to the city-within-a-city. On a rather miserable dreary rainy day while walking through the main market area something shiny catches my eye. A small silver necklace inlaid with precious stones lays out on display at one of the merchants' stalls, and she appears to have gone for lunch. Careful not to be overly dramatic I pretend to stumble in order to deliberately bump into the side of the stall. The move allows me to grab hold of the necklace and slip it in my pocket before getting up and walking away, all while remaining entirely undetected. What a steal! She’ll never know what happened and might never even notice the piece of jewelry is gone with the vast amount of inventory. Happy with my newfound shiny object of the week I admire it upon returning to where I’d been staying these past few weeks. While inspecting the quality stones under better lighting I notice there’s a letter on the bed with my name on it. Opening the letter I read it, then reread it, and read it again a third time after that. Well that takes all the thrill out of it! The letter states my newly stolen item of choice has really belonged to me ever since last weekend, when Yuuri bought it with the intention of giving it to me. He hadn’t yet picked it up, and figured I would notice it on display, so he left it there for me to “steal” on my own. It’s a beautiful gift, really, it’s just more fun to have a bit of a strategy for obtaining such things, and hopefully avoid any Ordinators.