“Nora’s Gone:” A Flash Fiction Story

A Substack exclusive: a fantasy story inspired by random prompts.

The following is a flash fiction piece I originally created on the group Fictionistas and subsequently revised. It grew from three prompts, chosen at random:

• “person of a different size than most people”

• “runaway”

• “camera that takes pictures of ghosts”

Jessica slumped into the locker room and flopped on the bench. If she could re-do tonight’s game, she would. The Lady Spartans kept two defenders on her most of the night. She got only six rebounds and fouled out. The Jaguars lost in the final minutes. Abby was due back from her hamstring injury in time for the game against Morningside Prep in two weeks. Not soon enough. Playing center sucked. Power forward was more her speed.

Diane knelt and massaged her knee. As usual, a half-eaten Mounds bar hung out of her thigh pocket. Yuck. Coconut.

She had a weird look on her face.

“What’s with you?” Jessica asked. “You lose a bet on us tonight?”

Diane looked up. 

“You’ll call me crazy.”

“I already think you’re crazy for those candy bars you eat. What is it?”

Diane peeped around the locker room. Most of the team was talking to themselves.

“Earlier tonight I found the strangest thing. It was this camera…”

“Wow. That is strange.”

Diane slapped her leg.

“Jess, I’m serious! It was a Polaroid—like from those commercials with the guy from The Rockford Files? You probably don’t remember them; you’re too young.”

“I know what a Polaroid is, Diane.”

“It had film inside. I took a picture of the gym and… my dad was in the photo.”

Jessica scrunched her lips sideways.

“Your dad? Isn’t he… y’know… dead?”

“I said it was crazy.” She reached in her back pocket and showed Jessica the photo. “I shot two more and he was in all of them, sitting in the bleachers.”

Jessica gasped.

“Omigod. I saw a Twilight Zone episode on the New Year’s Eve marathon like this. There was a camera. Its pictures could predict the future—”

“Today would’ve been Dad’s birthday. I thought about him.” Diane stopped massaging. “I wonder… maybe it could tell me whether Nora was dead or alive.”

Nora was her teenage daughter. Months ago, she ran away from home when she’d had enough of Greg’s abuse. No one had heard from her since.

Jessica took her sneakers and socks off and propped her leg on a stool. Ew, her foot was kinda stinky. Diane didn’t notice.

“Have you told Coach McDaniels?”

Diane shook her head.

“Just you.”

Jessica scratched her leg.

“But… how?” She pondered it. “What if it’s like, secret government technology? Or maybe it’s from the future and it was left here by accident?”

“I don’t know where it’s from, or who it belongs to.”

Goosebumps rose up Jessica’s arm. Poor Diane hadn’t been the same since Nora’s disappearance. She’d probably do anything to have her back, but did that include believing in a magic camera that took pictures of ghosts? Ghosts weren’t real. Were they?

Diane looked away.

“If I think about her… hard enough… maybe I can make it show me.”

“Diane, this was funny at first, but I don’t think you should play around with this. Bad things always happen when someone uses magic devices the wrong way.”

“What’s the right way then? Do you know?”

“I’m just saying—” She lowered her voice. “I’m just saying you should take it to someone who might know what to do with it.”

“Who would know about this? Besides… it’s my fault she ran away. I need to fix that.”

Jessica bit her lip. Who knew what that magic thingamabob could do to Diane in using it to find Nora? Be careful what you wish for. That was the lesson of so many stories that started like this. Diane should know better.

But she still thought Nora leaving was her fault…

Coach McDaniels and Coach Winwood entered the locker room. Coach McDaniels told the team what they did wrong, then she gave them a pep talk for the Jaguars’ next game, on the road at Livingston High. 

Tanisha and Mercedes chatted with Jessica for a few minutes before leaving for the night. Diane said nothing until Cindy asked her for a roll of adhesive bandages. She looked in her first-aid kit and handed Cindy one.

“How’s your knee?” Diane asked Jessica. “Do you need a heat pad?” 

“Nah. It didn’t hurt much tonight.”

“Fine.” Diane stood. Jessica took her hand.

“Listen—you divorced Greg, right? So you have fixed it. Stop kicking yourself over Nora. When she comes back, it’ll be without him around. The two of you will be happy again.”

“That’s not good enough. I need to know she’s okay.” Diane rushed into her office. Jessica followed her. The shower beckoned, but it could wait.

The camera lay on the desk. It did resemble a vintage Polaroid camera. Diane held it.

“What if you’re wrong about how it works?” Jessica asked. “Or what if it shows you something you’ll wish you hadn’t seen?”

“I have to try.” She closed her eyes.

“Diane, please. Don’t do this.”

“Stand back, Jess.” Her finger hovered near the button.

Jessica’s hand trembled. Suddenly she swatted the camera out of Diane’s hands before she could press the button. It crashed on the floor.

Diane picked it up. It had a crack on the lens.

“I’m sorry,” said Jessica. “But this isn’t the way. Go back to the police. See what progress they made. Nora’s a smart girl; I’m sure she’s alive and well, wherever she is.”

“I thought you were my friend.” Diane walked out of the office without another word.

Jessica watched her go. Then she turned and stared at the camera.

She was only sixteen years old. There was plenty she still didn’t know about the world. If this existed, who knew what other things were out there, lying around unnoticed, waiting to be discovered, and what they could do to people… or for them?

If Nora were her sister… would she have made the same choice?