Some routines keep us steady… until the morning they shatter everything we believe about safety, kindness, and who we really are.
Flash Fiction Prompt
Joe knew something was wrong the moment the park went silent before sunrise.
Every morning for three years, Joe ran the same loop through the park—same trees, same paths, same quiet man curled on the same weathered bench. The homeless guy never asked for anything; he just lifted a hand in a sleepy wave as Joe passed, a simple gesture Joe came to rely on more than he ever admitted. But this morning, the wave never came. As Joe slowed, he saw why: the man sat upright, eyes open, body unnaturally still. The knife in his chest glinted like a wicked smile, pinning a note soaked in dew and something darker. “Making the Homeless disappear.” Joe staggered back, the world spinning as the sun threatened to rise. Someone thought they could erase a life without consequence. Someone thought no one cared. Joe clenched his fists until his nails drew blood. They were wrong. He cared. And he wasn’t about to let this monster vanish into the shadows. Not today. Not ever.
Reader Question
If you were Joe, what would be your very next move—and why?