Today’s flash fiction comes from this prompt I found on Pinterest.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a big black, flashing ten. I turn around to see who it is. I’ve never seen anyone with a ten before. The most dangerous person I’ve seen was a four. Besides myself, of course. I’m an eight.
About a hundred numbers flash past me, in the crowd of children rushing to get to class on time. I make my way to room 103 and take a seat. The room is filling up. I can’t make out the ten. Did I imagine it? The probability of my being in the same class as a ten is low. Maybe I’ll catch him at lunch.
Wait. No. A new kid slumps into the desk beside me. His hair is dark and hangs over his eyes. He puts his head on his arms, folded on top of the desk. He doesn’t look like a ten, but I’ve never been wrong before. I slip him a note. “Meet me in the library, 12:00,” it says.
Thanks for reading! <3
Yours,
Elizabeth Anne
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