A Lost Art

Daily Flash Fiction Prompt: Write a story in which something is lost

New version of, “A Lost Art” (2.23.05)


Kiera spent her morning lost in a fantasy world of turreted castles, white unicorns, and chivalrous knights. Her keyboard chattered cheerfully as her fingers flew, making the story come magically alive.

Outside, it was a cold, gray day. Snow had sifted heavily through the harsh, moaning winds the night before. The snowflakes had stopped falling by dawn, but the winds were still thrashing about.

A small ball of fur at Kiera’s feet started mewing softly, demanding attention. The authoress’ heart twinged as she ignored Handsome. She could not stop typing – the story called to her. Kiera continued her feverish transmission of words.

The wind reached its height. Gusts of air scurried trash across streets. Windchimes cried warning. A tree let go of earth and tackled power lines.

One by one, lights popped out down Kiera’s street.

“No.” Kiera stared at her blank computer screen. “NO!”

For a misty-eyed daydreamer, Kiera had a marvelous temper. Her pet sensed it coming, and he quickly cat-walked out of the room.

Kiera bunched her hands into fists as her face turned red and blotchy. Anger built up as flames do on a well-banked fire. Her story was lost – the castles crumbled, unicorns extinct, knights vanquished. Waves of anger and numbness cycled through her body.

Throwing herself out of her chair, Kiera stalked around the tiny reading room. The sound of the wind rose and rattled the windowpanes. Angrily, Kiera stood at the cold window and raised her fists to the sky.

And then all the power came back on.

For a moment, that upset Kiera even more, and she took a deep, heat-filled breath. Then, slowly, she released it, frowned, and stood at her now-functional laptop. All her morning’s work was forever lost. She could not go back. Kiera snapped the laptop shut and walked away.

302 words


First version of, "A Lost Art"

Kiera had spent the entire morning lost in a world of fantasy castles, white unicorns, and chivalrous knights. She had been typing out a story that had come magically alive for her.

Outside, it was a cold, gray day. Snow had sifted heavily through the harsh, moaning winds the night before. The snowflakes had stopped falling by dawn, but the winds were still thrashing about outside, stirring up something fierce.

A small ball of fur at Kiera’s feet started mewing softly, demanding attention. The authoress was getting to the climax of her story and she was single-mindedly caught up in the demanding, enchanting flow of words and feeling.

Then disaster struck, and it was not writer’s block. The wind had reached its height as well, and had decided to wreak havoc. Trash scurried across streets, branches detached from trees, and power lines swayed madly. Then, one by one, house lights popped out down Kiera’s street.

“No.” Kiera stared at her blank computer screen. “NO!”

For a misty-eyed daydreamer, Kiera had a marvelous temper. Her pet sensed it coming, and he quickly cat-walked out of the room.

Kiera was fuming. Her hands bunched into fists and her face became red and blotchy. She stalked around the tiny reading room and debated on what to blame for the loss of her story. The sound of the wind rose and rattled the windowpanes. Angrily, Kiera stood at the cold window and raised her fists to the sky.

And then all the power came back on.

For a moment, that upset Kiera even more, and she took a deep, heat-filled breath. Then, slowly, she released it, frowned, and stood at her now-functional laptop. All her morning’s work was forever lost. She could not go back. The laptop was snapped shut and Kiera walked away.

300 words