LODESTAR PROMPTS MARCH 4TH 2024

Summer showers.

Always check the pockets.

Flash fiction inspired by this prompt.

Write a story about a character who buys a secondhand coat and discovers something in their pocket.

The weather will be fine today, the presenter had confidently said. I’d believed them.

Now it was pouring with rain. That was typical for Devon, I hadn’t learned or been prepared. At least I had a baseball cap on. But my shirt was getting soaked. I needed a coat. I dodged into the nearest shop, to try to keep myself dry. I was meeting a girl for lunch and I wanted to look semi-presentable.

As it happens, my refuge was a charity shop, stacked full of second-hand clothes.

“You could do with a coat, dear,” the woman tidying the racks said. “We’ve got a large selection, just over there.”

I had a look, not really expecting anything stylish. To my surprise, I saw a fashionable leather jacket, one that I’d nearly bought, a few days ago. It looked brand new and fitted me like a glove. I took it over to the till.

“How much is this one?” I asked.

“Good choice,” she said, “that’s only just come in. Five pounds to you.”

I paid her and put it back on, “thank you, that’s saved my day.”

I walked out into the rain. Now I had to rush. I didn’t want to be late. I got to the pub, took my new coat off and put it on the chair next to me as I waited.

I needn’t have worried about being late. It was half an hour after the agreed time and she still hadn’t arrived. I finished my pint and decided to call it quits.

When I picked up my coat to put it on, I felt something in one of the zipped pockets. I opened it, reached in and pulled out an envelope.

Help Me, was written on the front, in place of an address.

With trembling fingers, I opened it and found a folded sheet of scruffy paper. Written in a childish script and dated three days ago, the note said.

Whoever finds this, my name is Sean Evans, I’m nine years old. My father is Daniel Evans, the owner of Evans Industries. I’ve been kidnapped and I’m being held on a farm somewhere in Devon. I’m being kept in a cellar. I managed to write this when nobody was looking. They let me out for a walk and I hid this letter in a bundle of clothes. I’d overheard my captors talking about them, they were destined for a charity shop. I don’t know where I am, it’s on Dartmoor somewhere. The man holding me is being called Griff by his men. Please tell the police and get help. Thank you.

I realised that I’d been holding my breath. That was one smart kid. I suddenly didn’t care that I was sitting alone. Or even that the girl hadn’t shown up. I had a feeling that what I did next would be much more interesting.

I’m Richard Dee and I write all sorts of stories. Read more of my sci-fi by searching my lists. Or, join my mailing list and claim your free novella using the link below.