This post is part of Writer’s Digest February Flash Fiction Challenge. Flash Fiction is a short, often under 1,000 words, style of writing. I hope you enjoy my 28 contributions!
Day 13 Prompt: Weather
“Mommy, mommy, it’s snowing!” Mason’s feet pattered quickly down the hall towards his parent’s bedroom.
“What did he say?” Jim grunted, his eyes still closed.
Claire groaned back, “I think he said it was snowing?” She sat up, yawning, and looked at the bedside clock. 6:30am. She moaned, pulled herself out of bed and called to Mason, “Ok, honey, mommy’s coming.”
Claire grabbed her phone off the dresser and sulked down the hall. Snow was impossible, she knew. It was 92 yesterday and snow never fell on the low-lying hills around the Los Angeles basin in September. She unlocked her phone to check the weather when she noticed a slew of text messages, missed calls, and emails waiting to be reviewed.
She opened the first text, “Claire, I’ve been calling all night, please let me know if you’re ok!”
Her stomach sank and her heart leapt. Her simmering panic interrupted only by Mason’s little voice, “Mommmmm.”
“Yeah, honey, I’m coming!” She flipped through the other messages quickly, her mind racing and alarm fraying her nerves. As she emerged from the hall, she could see gentle white flakes floating down past the windows. She ran over to Mason who had cupped his eyes to the back sliding glass door.
“Can I go play in the snow?”
Just then, Claire’s phone rang in her hand. “Hi Mom.” Claire glanced around the backyard, noticing the quick accumulation of the gray ash on Mason’s playset and the grass. “Yeah, we are fine for now. I’ll keep you updated. I love you.”
Claire yelled for Jim, who appeared almost instantly. “I wonder where it is?”
Claire fumbled through her phone, checking local news sites, Google, anything. She jumped when she heard a knock at the door.
Jim looked at his wife and son protectively and said, “I’ll answer it.”
The firefighter at the door looked tired and solemn. Beads of sweat lined his forehead and streaks of dirt and mud stained his shoes and pants. “I’m sorry to bother you so early in the morning, but I’m here to inform you that your home is under mandatory evacuation orders. Given the proximity of the blaze and the direction and strength of the winds, we will need you to vacate your home in the next thirty minutes please.”
