This week’s challenge asked writers to craft a 200-word story containing the exact phrase:
› I thought I was the only one
The results explored that discovery in ways both unsettling and reassuring. Thank you to everyone who wrote, read, liked, and commented this week.
Browse the stories in the Flash Fiction Archives, or below.
A big thanks to everyone who participated and took on the challenge this week!
Table of Contents
- The Intruder by Eolas Pellor
- Corner of 5th and Main by Jesse R Traynham - Author
- Shadowborne by Mary Zuelke Author
by Eolas Pellor
Likes: 2
Words: 200
The door to the cellar was open, and he detected a slight movement, as if whoever had opened it had just passed. He listened, but he could hear no sound. That seemed odd, and he cautiously moved toward the cellar.
The door was in an alcove. The glow of the overhead light didn't extend down the steps. Below was an impenetrable blackness.
He slipped his hand under his jacket as he made his way down the steps into the cellar. He didn’t pull the .32 from its holster yet; he knew that whoever was down there would be able to see him better than they could see him. The last thing he needed was someone wrestling a gun from his had while his eyes were adjusting to the gloom.
There were ten, creaking, wooden steps before his foot found the dirt floor. He stepped forward gingerly, his hand feeling along the wall for a light switch he knew must be there. Suddenly, a voice spoke out of the gloom. He turned toward it, his gun half drawn.
“I thought I was the only one home,” his wife said. “You gave me quite a scare when I heard you come in.”
Likes: 2
Words: 200
Mom used to tell me I was "one of a kind." I believed her when I was younger. As I grew, I realized I was like everyone else.
Then I found a scribbled note on my door one day when I got home. It read, "Corner of 5th and Main. 9:00. Don't be late." I did what anyone would do. I ripped up the note and chucked it in the trash.
I couldn't contain my curiosity. I got there early. 8:00. I found a large, thick magnolia tree to hide behind. I wanted to see the note-writer first. The moon ate up the sun at about 8:30. At 8:45, I saw a shadowy figure walking up Main. He found the corner and stood waiting.
I waited. I observed. Satisfied, I left my hiding spot and approached the man. He turned around, and I stumbled back. I was looking into a mirror.
"I thought I was the only one."
He grinned. "I thought I was the only one, until recently."
We were both so entranced that we didn't notice another man had arrived.
"I've got news for both of you. Neither of you is the only one."
Likes: 2
Words: 200
Muire squeezed between the tight rock walls. The sound deadening into an overwhelming quiet. Her neck arched toward the cathedral cave ceiling hundreds of feet above. Awe throbbed through her chest. Rocks and streams of fresh mountain water spiderwebbed around her as her careful steps carried her to the alter.
Ancient. Grand.
She knelt, mumbling a prayer.
Tears streamed down her slack cheeks, as if the weight of the lie wasn’t enough. This place had always brought her solace, but not today. Not after what she’d done.
The itch crept up her spine. She held her position, resisting the temptation. She had to. She couldn’t feed again. The dead eyes haunted her.
A pressure startled her out of her contemplation
She turned with a jerk. A man stood before her. She slipped on the wet stone, but he reached for her with tender care, puling her beside him. Her gaze searched his shadowed face. She reached out, hesitant, her hand barely brushing his face — and then she knew.
“I thought I was the only one.” Her voice faltered.
He clasped her hand. “We can do this together. We must.”
She nodded. They knelt side by side, hand in hand, praying.
When Colton Travers was just four months old, a runaway horse on Bent Oak Road caused a car wreck that left his mother dead. His father survived, then vanished. Raised on family stories and faded photographs, he never questioned the past . . . until a worn shoe box of old clippings surfaced with hints of a darker truth. Now, drawn into a fifty-year-old unsolved case, Colton must chase a trail gone cold, where memory holds the clues, time keeps the truth, and justice demands satisfaction.
Stargazing at the June Bug Ranch
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