A Thousand Tiny Details

Posted: February 1, 2017 by J.A. Prentice in Flash Fiction
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,


She never left the apartment now, not if she could help it. The outside world was a shrieking, shoving place, full of disorder.

That morning, from the moment she drew back the curtain, the signs leapt out at her: fallen lamp on the desk, disturbances in the snow, speck of red in the white.

She threw the curtains across the window, sat in the dark, cursed her mind’s attention to detail, then picked up the phone and made the call.

“My neighbour has murdered his wife,” she said, rattling off the address. “You’ll find the body in the river.”

Word Count: 99

This is for Friday Fictioneers. Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for running the challenge and Roger Bultot for providing the prompt photo!

  1. Iain Kelly says:

    A mini version of Rear Window. Nice.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. neilmacdon says:

    I can see her holding her temples and wanting it to stop

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Ros Nazilli says:

    Love the directness of this. A woman who sees all. xx

    Liked by 1 person

  4. michael1148humphris says:

    I saw her as clairvoyant = Clairvoyance can be painful.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Dale says:

    It must be an awful “gift” to be able to see like this…

    Liked by 1 person

  6. cursed her mind’s attention to detail Oh, I love this line!!!

    Liked by 1 person

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