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About This Author
 Kiya is a young woman with many interests. She's got a degree in Computer Science and Registered Nursing.
She's an avid reader and considers Stephen King one of her favorite authors.
She's also been known to pen one or two stories here and there, and as a proud moderator of Writing.Com, she invites you to check out her portfolio (and even better, to sign up today!).
Published Works:
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The Bradbury Chronicles #1106383 added January 20, 2026 at 7:44am
Restrictions: None
When the Lights are On
Ella Dietrich sighed at the mess the twins had left behind overnight.
No matter how many lectures she gave about cleanliness, the routine never changed: waking up to clothes and toys strewn across the floor. With a shake of her head and a breath of silent defeat, she began her chores for the day.
Once the living room looked presentable enough, and Baxter—their loyal German Shepherd—had been let out to race around the backyard, Ella turned to the kitchen to make breakfast.
Rick and Sally enjoyed cornflakes soaked in warm milk and waffles dripping with syrup, while her dear husband, Paul, preferred black coffee and scrambled eggs.
Soon enough, her little clan bounded down the stairs with their familiar greetings— “Good morning, Mommy!” and “You look lovely, honey.” Ella accepted their kisses and watched as they crowded around the small kitchen table.
Rick nearly stained his uniform, Sally complained that her braids weren’t neat enough, and Paul sat behind the pages of The Guardian, muttering about the government. Baxter, now back indoors, trotted around the table accepting scraps until Ella finally filled his bowl.
She handed out lunchboxes and received farewell kisses, stepping into the doorway as she watched her family drive away. Her heart warmed as she waved and waved and wav—
—
“Why does she keep doing that?” Harry asked, peering through the window at Ms. Dietrich next door. “Who is she waving to?”
His mother glanced up from her book.
“You know the saying,” she said gently. “The lights are on, but nobody is home. Poor lady still thinks she’s back in the ’50s. It’s just her routine every morning. She’s not bothering anyone.”
Still, one couldn’t help but wonder when Ella’s final farewell would be spoken—to memories cherished by a mind slowly fading away.
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Word Count: 300
Written For: "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge" 
Prompt: Write a story that includes the line: “Nobody is home.” |
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