Flash Fiction: April 1, 2025
The writing prompt: A character discovers her neighbor has been hiding a terrible secret.
Karen had been digging for what seemed like hours. Although Reagan had only noticed her out there before supper this evening, it wasn’t the first time she had seen her digging.
Two weeks ago, mounds of dirt started to appear around Karen’s yard. At first, Reagan assumed she had been up to her usual spring planting – it was now May, after all.
Karen had been known for her prize-winning flowers. Recently, she hired a professional gardener to begin artistically shaping her hedges. A few seasons ago, Reagan distinctly remembered the very first shrubbery Karen had sculpted. From her living room window, she was forced to make eye contact with a seven-foot-tall rabbit made of leaves every morning.
When she looked away from her cup of coffee, she swore she saw it moving out of her peripheral vision.
To grasp her attention repeatedly each day was a testament to the gardener’s skill. Reagan had never introduced herself to him, but she felt like she knew the man, who seemingly matched her in age. His broad shoulders commanded her attention whenever she saw him walking across Karen’s lawn. With a wide-brimmed hat shadowing his face, she could never make out features beyond his stark jawline. In some ways, he reminded Reagan of her younger brother, had he made it to his thirties.
Last summer ended like no other for Karen’s yard, however. Spring had started off with an unexpected drought. While Reagan thought it had recovered nicely with the gardener’s help, she wasn’t so sure if Karen ever did. At the end of the growing season, her sunflowers failed to win the top prize at the town fair for the first time. After that, Reagan didn’t see any marigolds or asters dotting Karen’s front lawn as temperatures grew cooler.
Another first.
Now that spring was virtually in full swing, all she could see were piles of dirt. While the azaleas and hydrangeas had rebloomed without much trouble, Reagan recognized Karen wasn’t tending to them as frequently as she normally would. In fact, she hadn’t seen the gardener stop by yet this season, either.
This evening, Karen chose to continue her shoveling under the cover of nightfall. Reagan was no longer focused on the lateness of the hour, but the unusual newfound hobby of her neighbor. When the clock in her living room chimed at midnight, she realized she could no longer see Karen’s shadow obscuring her view of the hole.
Reagan audibly gasped at its size, but her astonishment was replaced by the soft sound of footsteps. Now Karen was coming back into view, towing a black trash bag behind her. Upon further observation, Reagan could see a series of packed trash bags in her backyard.
It was then that she decided to turn in for the evening.