'A good decision' by Birgit K. Gaiser

Velika liked to take lunchtime walks along the lake. At least she did whenever she actually got a chance to take a lunch break. On her days off, she sometimes hiked the trails along the lakeside or went for a swim at one of its beaches. 

Life here was good. Everything was different – the language, the people, the food. But not in a bad way. She still found herself drawn to the water, just like she had back home.

Her neighbour, Liv, who shared Velika’s passion for walking and being at the lakeside, had invited her to stay at her family’s cottage this weekend. They had arrived late on Saturday morning and gone out on the lake in a rowing boat. Liv had taught her how to fish, though they’d only caught some small fish that they returned to the water.

Later, they’d gone swimming together, and at one point, playful splashing had turned into a hug, the hug into an embrace, the embrace into kissing. Velika blushed a little.

It was nice. Natural. Not rushed, but more like everything here in this country that seemed to take things in its stride, deliberately and confidently.

She wasn’t sure where things with Liv would go, if they would be together forever. But she knew she’d made the right choice in leaving home and coming here.

Smiling, she pulled the blanket she’d wrapped herself in tight around her shoulders and walked back to the cottage.

'Small Creatures' by Abida Akram

In my small wild garden, tiny black dots upon red charm. More perfect than the smallest fingernail. Mesmerising seconds into hours. Childhood and time pass in a one inch world of dry earth and sharp green, baby shoots of grass. Delight in danger- red. Body opens by magic. Tiny black gauze spider web wings. Shock of flight. Sky eyes turned upwards into buttercup light dappling my gaze as the ladybird leaves, I wake from my joyful trance as does my son.

Quietly content. I look for the next thing in my garden to contemplate. Then I see the wren and silently point it out to my four-year old son. It is beige, drab, tiny. It's quick movements capture his gaze. 

His tongue pokes out left, down splodges brown paint, chocolate button on white paper. He just misses painting the wooden bench. He tries for watery black stick legs. The tiny triangular beak- warps into a heavy-handed square. Black dots for eyes. The blob of a wren, like the small fluffy fidgety chick last year which would not stay to play in his cupped hands, flits and flits, this way and that. (Now a cartoon, stationary on a kitchen wall.)

I point out the garden spiders, busily weaving homes under the bench. He waits eagerly on the grass for flies to be caught and eaten, face on his folded arms. I look at his delicious round face, his frown of concentration, the sun creating a little halo of his blond curls. My heart expands with joy at this little miracle. He falls asleep in the warmth, on the grass. I observe the daily changes and thank god he is so quick to learn sign language. So that he can tell me everything despite me not hearing his voice.

'Don’t Let your Dreams Die' by Rathin Bhattacharjee

I look at the series of mails from NFFD Write-in and shake my head. I was never to be a winner! I give up, about to get up from my chair, when my spouse, Jaya, comes near my table. One look at me and she knows that something is dreadfully wrong with me. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have made a face like that. I wouldn’t be so still! 

I hear her calling out to our youngest daughter, Anushka, the next moment. 

“Baba (she calls her by the same name that I do), come here. Baba seems to have a problem here.”

Anu knows the urgency in her mom’s voice, so she comes scurrying out of her room. 

“Baba, have a look at Baba’s mail. There are some letters from somewhere and he doesn’t know what to do with them!” My wife urges her. 

Anu tries to sneak-peak at the laptop from over my shoulder while I look away from it in helplessness, and outside through the window. 

Just my luck! I have had high hopes of making a name for myself today by writing all 24 stories. After all, one doesn’t get an opportunity like this every day. But then the series of letters from NFFD about their inability to open my stories, has drained me out. Perhaps, next year or the year after, or better still – may be in the next life, I’ll have my share of fame. 

My daughter picks up my mobile and start clicking some buttons. 

“It’s done, Baba.” 

“Done! What do you mean?” 

“I have sent them the links successfully. Now they can read the stories.” 

Suddenly, the birds outside start chirping and the day brightens up. Thank God, all my hard work isn’t going to end in thick smoke after all. 

'Blue Heron' by Elizabeth Thoms Charles

Seeking, searching the blue heron gazes out over the water. Illusive fish have swum out of the shallows onto deeper holes in the river.

A glint of sunlight, a shadow flickers in the grasses just beyond the shore. Blue heron snatches the slithering garter snake. The snake twists and arches. Without releasing his prized dinner, heron flies to a rock in the middle of the stream, shakes his bill, crushing the snake’s spine and swallows the swallows the gray reptile.

Blue heron flaps high into a cottonwood, perches on the edge of the nest and regurgitates pulverized reptile into the waiting mouths of his young while his mate soars in search of her meal.

Returning to the stillness a solitary sentinel, the blue heron stares out at the river satisfied.

Great Blue Herons create a bridge between the wilds and suburbia.

 

'Lachlan' by Julia Goodlet

The ward is quiet, 

the world is asleep 

but I cannot. 

There is an aching 

in my chest, a longing 

I’ve only just found.

It creates a strangeness, 

around me that is 

new…

I embrace the solitude,

lying here in the darkness

Your breathing catches,

wrapped tightly against me.

A snuffing, hushed sound,

I shift my weight and you 

stir but unable to move

so tightly bound to me.

Your smell, curls around…

Pulling at me, binding me.

My eyes fill, unexpectedly

I’m moved profoundly.

Our world limited,

just us, connected.

In a new and different way,

now you live outside me

The word pivots,

reorients,

shrinks and expands

Your movement stills and

I enjoy your heat.

My heart lifted as I drift,

contentedly to sleep.

'Pride' by Lisa Thornton

This cove will be empty. No bass fishermen. No radios. 

This cove will cover your heart in silence. The surface of the water is only broken behind your canoe. In front of you, a smooth glass table. 

There are eleven cormorants in a tree watching, but they are in support of you. They won’t point their long feathery fingers or sneer behind them. 

They won’t say just leave your husband then. They won’t say your life has been a sham. 

The boat makes a low slosh thud as it bumps into a shallow sandbar and you sit. Suspended. Between one world and the other. 

Why must it take an explosion to find peace?

This cove is empty but for a beautiful blue heron balancing on a fallen log.

NFFD 2026 Prompt #12: Heron

 

 Prompt #12: Heron

Welcome to The Write-In!  This year, we're celebrating the 2026 National Flash Fiction Day Anthology theme of Bridges. Throughout National Flash Fiction Day, we'll be posting one prompt every hours from 00:00 until midnight (BST), for a total of 25 prompts in all.  You have until 23:59 BST on Sunday to submit your responses for possible publication here at the Write-In over the course of the next week.

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Take a close look at Joanna Campbell's painting, 'Heron'. The painting features cool, watery teals and a lone bird standing amidst textured, shifting tides. Write a story centred on a moment of profound stillness, patience, or solitary observation. 

To make this extra challenging, we ask you to avoid the following topics entirely: grief, mourning, illness, or dementia. Instead, lean into themes of discovery, anticipation, or quiet contentment.

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If you’re submitting this to us, make sure to note that this is a response to Prompt 12: Heron

You can submit responses until 23:59 BST on Sunday, 14 June 2026 for a chance to be published here at The Write-In.

You can claim the badge for this prompt by visiting our badges page.

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Artwork by Joanna Campbell.