I’ve mentioned here and there that a couple of years ago I kind of got into writing flash fiction stories (tiny pieces of fiction that contain a story written in 1,000 words or less). I published a Christmas story here on the blog in 2019, and last year I had one published by Spark Flash Fiction.

But I haven’t shared anything new recently, so today I’m posting some suspenseful flash fiction. The idea came to me last fall as I was thinking about ordinary objects that could be the symbol of something important, and the image of a plain white envelope got stuck in my mind. I built the story around finding an unimpressive envelope in your mailbox.

I hope you enjoy this foray into something new for me! Feel free to leave comments if you like it (or if you don’t, I guess, but be sweet about it because us creative types are sensitive). Happy reading!

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The Time Is At Hand

by Jordan Millsaps

One Tuesday in March, Alex pulled an envelope out of his mailbox that would change the course of his future. He carried it in the side pocket of his favorite grey cargo pants all afternoon as he completed his work-study shift in the library, then transferred it into his gym bag. When he came home to his off-campus apartment after his workout, he laid the envelope on the kitchen table while he showered and assembled a sandwich. Finally, Alex allowed himself to pick up the envelope and examine it. 

There was no return address, but Alex knew who the envelope was from. He had been waiting for this day for seven years, since the morning his father had slipped out of the house in the blue-grey light of dawn, with the whispered promise, “I’ll send for you when I find it, Alex. Wait for me to send for you.”

And so Alex had waited with unending faith that Dad would keep his word, even when the rest of his family tried to convince him that Gerry was gone for good – maybe even dead. But Alex knew better.

With great care, he slit open the flap, slipped the single sheet of paper out, and unfolded it slowly, smoothing the creases reverently. Three-quarters of the sheet contained a detailed, hand-drawn map, and along the bottom of the page he read, “The time is at hand.”

The sloping script was familiar to him even after all these years. His throat tightened and his eyes grew damp as he bent over the map and studied it. None of the landmarks were labeled, except for the number 1800 beside a mountain range. Alex rotated it, trying to get a new perspective. That shape looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it.

After a while, his eyes started to blur and he set the map aside. A good night’s sleep was what he needed to solve this puzzle, though he found his excitement kept him awake a good while. The next morning he rolled out of bed and dressed for school. He had two classes at the university this morning, and then he would be free to spend the afternoon deciphering the map and cryptic message.

“The time is at hand.” Did that even mean anything other than that his wait was over? Knowing Gerry, Alex would bet it held some significance. Maybe he should talk to his mom, show her the map. But she wasn’t the biggest fan of the man who had left her without an explanation. Alex debated all throughout his history and geography classes, and finally decided to pay her a visit.

“Alex,” Helen said, eyebrows raised when she answered his knock. “What a surprise.”

The comment shot a twinge of guilt through him. Alex definitely didn’t come visit her enough and she probably wasn’t going to be pleased with his reason for being here today. He stepped through the door she held open for him and followed her into the kitchen where she offered him a drink before sitting opposite him at her old formica table.

“So, what’s up, kiddo?”

“I got a letter yesterday.” He held the envelope out to her and immediately her brows knit into a frown. Clearly she recognized the handwriting as well.

“Open it.” She complied, unfolding the map and staring at it with glistening eyes. Finally she let it go and the paper floated down to rest on the tabletop as she shook her head.

She ran her fingers through her hair, clearly agitated. “Why did you show me this?”

“I hoped you could help me figure out where he is.”

“We don’t even know what he’s searching for!” 

“But he does…and he said he’d send for me.” Alex realized he still sounded like the little boy left standing on the stoop, but he couldn’t help it. “Just look at the map. Help me figure out why it seems familiar.”

Helen stared at him intently for several seconds, then snatched the map back up.

“There.” His mother pointed not at the map, but at an old photo hanging on the wall beside the back door, one he hadn’t noticed in a few years. It was of her and his father posing with their arms around each other, a rock formation as their backdrop. Alex stood and retrieved the photo, handing it to Helen and noting that it did bear resemblance to the mountains on the map.

“This was taken in Monument Valley on the last day of our honeymoon. I always loved this picture. It was one of the only ones I kept after he left. It’s harder to be bitter when I remember how happy we were that day.”

Her expression was soft, not twisted by the resentment she often exhibited when she talked about Gerry. “He was fascinated with this outcropping shaped like a huge hand and we visited it three times that week, always in the evening. He was adamant that it had to be in the evening.

The time is hand.

Something sparked in Alex’s mind. “What time in the evening?”

“Around six o’clock, I think. Why?”

Alex jumped up and kissed her cheek as he grabbed the map. “I’ll call you later!” he called as he jogged out the door.

Two days later, heart racing from excitement and exertion, Alex crested the last rise and stared in awe at the gigantic landmark before him and the figure standing at the base of the rocks, waiting for him. Alex checked his watch as he strolled forward at exactly six o’clock, 1800 hours

“I knew you would make it, son,” his dad said, clasping his hand and pulling him in for a one armed hug. “Follow me, Alex. Let me show you what I found.”

Alex walked in his father’s footsteps, following him without question into the blazing orange sunset peeking out from behind the hand-shaped outcropping, ready for an adventure to begin.

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So, what did you think, should I quit my day job now? Have you ever tried writing flash fiction?