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.

Flash Fiction February 2026 Day One: Elsewhere (Anna)

 Welcome back to another year of flash fiction February!

Flash Fiction February 2026 Day 1 Prompt: Elsewhere (a character arrives somewhere they are absolutely not supposed to be) 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. None of this was supposed to happen. How did I even get here to begin with? Where is here anyway? Still in the realm between sleep and wakefulness I begin to come to and become aware that I’m in something moving. It doesn’t feel like a boat, maybe some sort of cart? It’s cold, with a seemingly relentless wind. My head feels funny and the last bits of memories I can recall are fragmented. The crossing itself had been fine as had the rest of my journey up to that point then suddenly all hell broke loose in the middle of the night. There was shouting, and sounds of fighting, then nothing. All I know is that I should be somewhere, elsewhere, anywhere, just not here. Moving my hands slightly I feel the harsh biting of rope against my wrists and a panic begins to rise internally. Was I kidnapped? Is someone going to murder me? Will anyone ever find me? Then I hear a voice that says something drawing me out of my half-conscious fogginess and I force myself to open my eyes. As presumed I am in a cart, with my hands bound, but I’m not the only one. In fact there are three others all seem to have their hands bound like mine, and a scary looking fellow next to me has a rag stuffed in his mouth to keep him from making noise. Two soldiers drive the cart along the poorly paved road. Whatever I’ve gotten myself into I don’t have a good feeling about, and I really should be elsewhere. Wherever this cart is headed that is somewhere I am absolutely not supposed to be. With no reasonable plan of escape it seems the only thing to do is wait and find out where the final destination is, and hopefully not meet the same fate as whoever these other three seem to be traveling to- one almost unbearably slow creaking wheel turn after another. 

Yule Log (Naomi)

 A/N: This prompt has been sitting in my wip list for literally three years and a very short idea finally came to me in the small hours of the morning. Happy holidays, enjoy.

 Prompt: Yule log

“What in the world is that?” Lukas asks, obviously confused, pointing at the log shaped cake sitting on the table for the library's annual holiday party. “It’s a cake, in the shape of a yule log, and it has chocolate inside.” I explain making sure to note the mention of chocolate. On the small list of foods Lukas will eat, and the even smaller list of sweets, chocolate makes the list…though only dark chocolate. With what the thing on the table is squared away Lukas now asks what a yule log is- a natural question, I didn’t know what one was until a few years ago thanks to a friend inviting me to a similar party. Apparently the tasty treat is meant to resemble one burned in the fireplace to keep the chill of winter away, made with a light cake and covered in chocolate scraped with a fork to mimic the texture of tree bark. It’s clever, really, as well as delicious. With the remainder of the staff and other important friends of the library finally here the festivities can truly begin, having been greetings and small talk for the last half an hour. Cake is cut and eaten, presents are exchanged, a speech or two is made, and the party lasts late into the evening. Thoroughly tired from a busy and very social day it finally comes time to say good night to one and all. I, for one, look forward to having a few bits of potato fried in oil, and taking a nice warm bath, before falling into bed. Lukas, if I had to guess, is likely doing the same, though rather than sleep he will more likely stay up reading any of the number of new books he was given at the party. The question is now, which will he start with? Will it be the one on the weather cycles? Or the stars? The analysis of the concept of libraries? Or perhaps he will go through his mothers recipe book, attempting to uncover the origins of the Yule Log, both desert and holiday tradition. Reading really is its own form of magic, in his case, after all- unlocking a world of possibilities and helping to make sense of the new and unknown. Whatever it is he gets up to, I hope at least my dragging him to the party wasn’t too bad…he did seem to almost enjoy himself, and that’s something I haven’t seen in a long, long time.

Blood Over Ice (Ben)

 Prompt:  Over ice 

I had never made it to Windhelm while I was alive, and I now find I was not missing much. The stones are cold, the townspeople ignorant and racist, and the snow seems to never stop. What business Valan has here I don’t know the specifics of, only that he had summoned for help, and out of all the ancestors I tend to be the one to answer the most. If anything he doesn’t need help with whatever task brought him to this frozen city, as much as he needs help getting around. The cobbled streets are covered in snow and ice, not the best terrain for a blind person, even if they have some usable vision left. I act as a sighted guide of sorts, leading him through the ancient stone city with its intimidating walls and magnificent palace that once held great kings long ago. Now it holds a traitor and a coward, who sits on that cold stone throne with a heart of ice. To think he ignores the fact there are now splatters of blood over the ever present ice due to a recent string of murders in favor of making war, he would not last two days in Vvardenfell. The inn thankfully is a reprieve from the cold, at least for Valan, as I cannot feel it in my current state. As he sits and eats a well deserved if mildly questionable hot meal I feel myself beginning to slip from this world, though that feeling ceases when the spell is cast again. Having eaten and gotten out of the cold Valan decides to attempt to sleep, or at the very least crawl under the pile of blankets provided. I bid him goodnight and tell him to stay out of trouble, something he never listens to me or his mother about. With my time now quite over in this world I decide to go for a walk through the cold, silent city. Perhaps I will uncover whose blood has spilled over the ice? Or the one responsible? I walk through the graveyard, and the market, past the inn where Valan sleeps soundly, all the while humming a traditional tune to myself in the quiet darkness. Many of the guards pay me no mind, though my presence unsettles a few. Quietly humming I walk by, ignoring them, preferring to look up at the moons shining brightly and the snow falling pilling up over the sheets of ice that cling to the houses and walls. I wander through a residential section, passing under a strange house where I sense things even stranger, and continue until I come to the grey quarter. This slum used to be called the snow quarter, how it has fallen into disrepair saddens me greatly. My, how the mighty have fallen. Continuing to hum I quietly walk down the steps and through the quarter, nodding silently to a young man coming home late from work who notices me and bows respectfully. After that informal greeting he goes inside, leaving only me to continue wandering through the streets with only my thoughts and my song, until my time is up. As I reach the top step leading out of the slum I feel the end of my adventure has come, and with one final breath of crisp icy air, fade away into nothing.