Writing to Narrate: 5 Creative Ways to Weave Flashbacks into You

Writing to Narrate: 5 Creative Ways to Weave Flashbacks into Your Short Story

By Juen Li Choong

​IGCSE First Language English l Paper 2 l Composition

What is a flashback?

A flashback is when a story shows an event from the past to give more context or understanding.

Note: On the other hand, a flashforward is when a story jumps ahead to show something that will happen in the future.

Linear vs Non-linear Narratives

Linear: A linear story goes in order, from beginning to the end, without jumping around in time.
Non-linear: A non-linear story jumps around in time or between different events, so it doesn't follow a straight path from start to finish.

Note: Other types of narrative structures, such as framed and circular narratives, exists, but we will focus on non-linear narratives.

The Purpose of Flashbacks

The purpose or effect of a flashback is that it gives the audience a deeper understanding of the story or characters by revealing important past events. It can create suspense, add mystery, or help explain why things are happening.

Ways to Include a Flashback

​Different Methods	​Explanation
Sensory Triggered​	Flashbacks started by sensory details.​
Dialogue Triggered​	Flashbacks started by dialogue.​
Dream Triggered​	Flashbacks started by dreams or hallucinations
Object Triggered​	​Flashbacks started by a found object.​
Internal Thought Triggered​	Flashbacks star​ted by internal thoughts

Sensory Triggered​ l Flashbacks started by sensory details.

​Mum always told me not to worry—things would eventually work out. But they hadn’t. It had been two years already, living in a place that didn’t feel like home. I didn’t fit in. University life was bleak.

As I walked down the corridor, the faint smell of fresh paint hit me. It was the same scent that used to linger in the house when Mum was working on her latest project. I paused, and in that moment, everything shifted.

The smell was stronger here, in the hallway of our house. Mum was painting again, her favourite shade of soft blue. I could hear the quiet hum of the radio, her voice singing along to a song I barely knew. She looked up as I entered, smiling at me, her paint-splattered hands holding the brush with a kind of proud determination. "What do you think?" she asked, stepping back to admire the work.

"It’s perfect," I replied, stepping closer to her, feeling the warmth of the room, the scratch of her old denim shirt against my arm.

Then the corridor was back, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. The scent of paint clung to the air for just a second longer before dissolving, leaving me alone again.

Open Ended

What ideas do you have for this flashback?

Sensory Triggered​ l Flashbacks started by sensory details.

Dialogue Triggered​ l Flashbacks started by dialogue.​

My father always said failing an exam wasn’t the end of the world. But it sure felt like it. Weeks had passed since I received my results, and the weight of that disappointing grade still loomed over me.

One afternoon in the library, I overheard a student say, "I remember the first exam I failed. At the time, I thought I’d ruined everything. But in the end, it pushed me to work harder."

The envelope felt heavier than it should have. My hands trembled as I peeled it open, the paper’s edge sharp against my fingertip. Then I saw it: the bright red "F" glaring at the top of the page, each letter like a slap.

A book slammed shut nearby. Around me, students scribbled notes, flipped pages, moved on. Maybe it’s time I did too, I thought.

Open Ended

What ideas do you have for this flashback?

Dialogue Triggered​ l Flashbacks started by dialogue.​

Dream Triggered​ l Flashbacks started by dreams or hallucinations

It was the night before the school trip to the amusement park, and anticipation coiled within me like a spring. My stomach churned—not just with excitement, but with cold, creeping dread. Tomorrow, I told myself, I’ll finally ride a rollercoaster. But the fear felt heavier than ever.

As I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the memory of my first visit to an amusement park surged back, vivid and uninvited:

I was seven again, standing frozen in front of a monstrous rollercoaster. The structure towered over me, its tracks twisting like a metal serpent. The air smelled of burnt sugar and popcorn, and shrieks from the riders pierced my ears. My parents tugged my hand, their faces lit up with excitement. “You’ll love it!” Dad said. But with every step toward the line, my chest tightened. The closer we got, the louder the clanking chains of the ride became—until I wrenched my hand free and ran, their disappointed voices calling after me.

My eyes snapped open. The bedroom was silent, the only sound my ragged breaths. Outside, a distant car horn echoed. Tomorrow, I repeated, gripping the sheets. This time, I won’t run.

Open Ended

What ideas do you have for this flashback?

Dream Triggered​ l Flashbacks started by dreams or hallucinations

Object Triggered​​ l Flashbacks started by a found object.​

Joe was beside himself with grief. The days stretched on, sluggish and heavy, each one dragging him deeper into despair. He hadn’t set foot in the attic since it happened—but today, he forced himself up the rickety stairs.

Dust swirled in the stale air as he stepped inside. Then he saw it: her jacket, slung over an old chair like she’d just left it there. The one she’d worn when she laughed, when she pulled him close on cold evenings. His throat tightened.

He grabbed it, pressing the fabric to his face. The scent of her perfume—vanilla and something citrusy—flooded his senses, and suddenly, he wasn’t in the attic anymore.

The cold evening air brushed his cheeks as she slipped into that same jacket, grinning up at him in their doorway. “Ready for our adventure?” she’d asked, tugging the collar playfully. Behind her, their half-packed bags lay scattered, the car keys dangling from her finger. He could still hear the way she’d laughed when he pretended to steal them—a sound like wind chimes.

A floorboard creaked. Joe jerked backward, the jacket still clutched in his hands. The attic was silent again, the memory dissolving like mist. But for the first time in months, he didn’t feel alone.

Open Ended

What ideas do you have for this flashback?

Object Triggered​​ l Flashbacks started by a found object.​

Internal Thought Triggered​ l Flashbacks star​ted by internal thoughts

Rain tapped against the window like impatient fingers. Months had passed since Ben vanished—no note, no calls, just silence. The police said "runaway." His parents whispered "worst-case scenario." But I kept thinking there had to be an answer.

The storm outside blurred the glass, and suddenly, I wasn’t in my room anymore.

We were at the park on that last Saturday, scuffing our shoes in the dirt under the swings. Ben’s laugh sounded forced, the way it always did when he lied. “I’ll be fine,” he’d said, but his knee wouldn’t stop bouncing. When I asked about his dad, his fingers tightened around the chains—knuckles white, like he was holding on too tight to something invisible.

A car horn blared on the street below. I blinked, the memory slipping away as fast as Ben had. The rain still fell. The mystery remained. But that afternoon played on a loop in my head: There had to be clues. There had to be.

Open Ended

What ideas do you have for this flashback?

Internal Thought Triggered​ l Flashbacks star​ted by internal thoughts

Writing to Narrate: 5 Creative Ways to Weave Flashbacks into Your Short Story

By Juen Li Choong

​IGCSE First Language English l Paper 2 l Composition