Flash Fiction: January 21, 2025

The writing prompt: Water suddenly becomes toxic to all humans.

The nearest hospital reached full capacity yesterday. When the woman learned that her only neighbor had finally left town, she knew it was time to start considering where she would go, too.

Last week, she had no choice but to send her children away. Keeping them for as long as she could had been the priority.

Once she saw the water burn the skin off of her little boy, however, her priorities changed.

Water everywhere might now be toxic enough to burn. Then again, maybe it wasn’t. Perhaps people really could find refuge far from here, she thought. Clean water must still exist somewhere on this planet–just not here.

This is what she told herself while rocking back and forth on the floor of the kitchen. It was dark now, and the absence of her neighbor’s porch light out the window made it feel even darker. The woman couldn’t stand the idea of anyone seeing her like this, though. In some ways, the night protected her from shame and embarrassment.

Lowering her eyes from the window, a reflective puddle on the tile flooring caught her attention.

She didn’t know if it was water, but there was only one way to find out.