Welcome back to the home of #ThursThreads for Week 607.
Today is Thursday and that means it’s time to start flashing on #ThursThreads, the challenge that ties tales together. Want to keep up each week? Check out the #ThursThreads #flashfiction group on Facebook and the Group on MeWe.
Need the rules? Read on.
Here’s how it works:
- The prompt is a line from the previous week’s winning tale.
- The prompt can appear ANYWHERE in your story and is included in your word count.
- The prompt must be used as is. It can be split, but no intervening words can be inserted or tenses changed.
Rules to the Game:
- This is a Flash Fiction challenge, which means your story must be a minimum of 100 words, maximum of 250.
- The story must be new writing, not a snippet from something published elsewhere with the prompt added.
- Incorporate the prompt anywhere into your story (included in your word count).
- Post your story in the comments section of this post
- Include your word count in the post (or be excluded from judging)
- Include your social media handle or email in the post (so we easily notify you)
- The challenge is open 7 AM to 8 PM Mountain Time
- The winner will be announced on Friday, depending on how early the judge gets up.
How it benefits you:
- You get a nifty cool badge to display on your blog or site (because we’re all about promotion – you know you are!)
- You get instant recognition of your writing prowess on this blog!
- Your writing colleagues shall announce and proclaim your greatness on Facebook, Bluesky, MeWe, and Mastodon, etc.
Our Judge for Week 607:
Scientist, Dad, and flash fiction author, Eric Martell.
And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.
The Prompt:
“I don’t need answers.”
All stories written herein are the property (both intellectual and physical) of the authors. Comments do not represent the views of the host and the host reserves the right to remove any content. Now, away with you, Flash Fiction Fanatics, and show us your #ThursThreads. Good luck!
Tender Fruit
Danny left Bea with the comment that he was concerned about Ted, about his current state, his volatility and that she should take precautions.
She had dismissed any notion that she would be at risk from the man to whom she had given birth. Given birth and given away.
He thought that naïve, but refrained from debating the point.
He hadn’t shared with her the upsetting episode from the night before, the rambling intrusion into Ted Scott’s soon to be ex-wife Dawn’s home, the angry accusations, the violent rummaging through papers looking for some undefined document, the explosive exit into the dark.
Perhaps he should have but Dawn was his client and that demanded a level of confidentiality though the entire case was getting murkier, both ethically and personally.
‘I don’t need answers,’ he quietly thought. ‘I need smarter questions.’
Ted had been adopted by the Scott’s at birth. Bea had left them with the impression that Brother XII, their cult leader was the father, and he required that fact to be a closely guarded secret, something the Scott’s, acolytes of the first order, were more than willing to do.
Now, Bea was intimating that someone other than the long-deceased spiritual leader was the putative sperm donor.
Ted had lived a life of privilege, had a successful career, was cock of the walk, a man who, on the surface, could do no wrong.
Now his world was topsy-turvy.
His anchor was gone.
His familial fuse was lit.
249 WIP
@billmelaterplea
“The last reports of the Dreadstone King were over seventy years ago.” Allira pointedly looked Josten up and down. “You’re not that old… Are you?”
He sighed and looked away as they came through the trees to her camp. The mare whinnied to the other horses and they answered. Allira laughed at the horse’s antics, but she kept her attention on Josten as he walked with them to the corral.
“Would you get the gate for me? I’m going to take off her tack.” Allira tied the horse to the fence and moved to the saddle to begin removing it.
“Uh, yes, right.”
She’d never heard Josten so uncertain before as he moved to the gate. He simply stared at the latch with intensity for a few moments before reaching out to lift the rope over the gate post. For a moment, it appeared he struggled, but the rope lifted and the gate swung free. Allira lifted the saddle off the horse and loosened the reins from the fence before leading the horse into the corral.
“All right, honey, you’re free to go.” She lifted the bridle over the mare’s ears and set her free to visit with her herdmates. She closed the gate and latched it before eyeing Josten. “Hey, if you don’t want to tell me, I don’t need answers. I just wondered how you seem to know so much about the Tombs and the Dreadstone King when you’re just as human as me. Right?”
247 ineligible #WIP words
@siobhanmuir.bsky.social
The thing is, I thought I could do a backflip. After all, I did hundreds of ‘em in high school. I probably did a half-dozen of ‘em every week during football season. I mean, it should be just like riding a bike, right? Once you know how, it’ll come right back to you next time you try.
This is not what happened.
So, there I was minding my own business, when MayBeth asked if I wanted to meet up for drinks. We’ve been best friends since 5th grade, so of course I said yes. Anyway, we were sitting at the bar, and I was sipping my second Maker’s Mark over ice when Joel Bailey walked in. Joel was the hotty-totty in high school who all the girls wanted to date.
Anyways, seeing Joel got me and MayBeth reminiscing about old times. You know, the “good ol’ days.”
“You used to do those backflips like Mary Lou Retton. You were so gooooood.”
Never one to brag I said, “Damn straight I was good.”
“I bet you can’t do one of those backflips now.”
MayBeth knew better. She really did.
“Let’s go outside and I’ll show ya.”
“Hey y’all, Billie’s gonna do a backflip in the parking lot.”
And just like that I had an audience.
Why did I do it? What’s wrong with me? Why didn’t I graciously back out?
No, I don’t need answers. I need another dose of morphine, please.
Anyways, that’s how I got here.
247 words
@TeresaMEccles
Yeah, that was how it was. People kept asking, “What do you want?” and “What matters to you?” A thousand questions. And they expected me to have answers to them. “Now that you’re retired, what do you want to do?”
How should I know? I’ve never been retired until now. Sometimes I wanted to scream that at them. “I’m retired for less than 3 years now, how should I know!”
People irritated me. “I don’t need answers! I need questions! Then I can start!” That’s how it was. Start with the questions, and then go out and find the answers. And my answers weren’t likely to match anyone else’s answers. That was the beauty of being human. We were all unique.
It was such a simple concept. When lost, explore. When drowning, learn to float, and then to swim. When exploring, be open to having to backtrack. It was a process. Not a friggin’ cookbook. It was like grief. There were no instructions. Just time, and patience, and slowly figuring it out.
That’s where I was. That’s what I needed. I needed time to explore. To learn. Hell it took me 28 years to go from being a child to being an adult. How long would it take to go from being an adult to being retired? I didn’t have a clue. But I knew I was going to find out.
231 words
mysoulstears.bsky.social
He wasn’t used to the handcuffs. They were probably too small for him or needed to be adjusted. He could understand how people could enjoy being restrained, but it had never been a kink he’d thought to explore.
It was intriguing that Emma had got a pair ready to be used. It raised a bunch of questions about her he’d have never thought to ask.
“Okay.” He was still enjoying himself. “Who’d have thought it of you? What’s a demure college librarian need with a pair of our local enforcement department’s bracelets? There’s a darker side to you that you’ve been keeping well hidden. A penchant for the wilder side of life.”
Emma shook her head. There was a strangeness to her now. She wasn’t the same woman he’d offered to buy a drink. She’d turned his offer down then, not wanting to take a risk. There were a lot of shady characters frequenting the bars in town. A woman had to be careful these days. It was all too easy to be caught unawares.
“You’re talking,” she said. “I don’t remember saying you could. Loose lips are likely to ask too many questions. Making requests for personal information I don’t need. Answers are a luxury that you’re gonna need to wait for a while longer. A little mystery adds a dash of spice to a love gumbo. Are you sure you wanna take another sip from my ladle?”
He nodded and closed his eyes. He was happy to wait.
250 broadband-equipped words – twothirdzrasta.blogspot.com
He tried to get into a new routine, but everything reminded him of her. Their lives had become so intertwined that there wasn’t a facet of his life that she wasn’t a part of in some way. He never minded it, he relished it. He had been alone for so long before they met that having her in his life, in every aspect, was a novelty that he never ever got tired of having.
Now that it was gone. If he thought his loneliness was bad before they met, it was so much worse now. Now he knew what it was like to be loved, truly loved and to love in return. A soulmate. And now he knew what it was like to lose it.
He sighed.
She found him standing on the balcony nursing his usual glass of whisky. Her daughter. His stepdaughter. Home from college for the summer. She looked too much like her. It was painful. Her eyes red-rimmed and sad looking as she gazed at him. He knew she was hurting too. He wanted to comfort her, but his grief was so all-encompassing he found it nearly impossible to reach out to anyone. Especially her. He was a shit stepparent.
“The final reports from the accident came in,” she offered quietly.
“I-I don’t need answers.” His voice caught as he spoke. The first words he had spoken aloud in days. “Nothing will change what has happened. Nothing will bring your mom back.”
246 words
@mlgammella
“You’re late. We were worried.”
Lord Dixon’s tone seemed more threatening than concerned. What the hell had Helen gotten herself into? She followed him through lavish old halls to a pristine drawing room that made Helen feel like she’d stepped back in time. Shouldn’t a house like this have servants to answer the door?
Lady Dixon, an imposing, matronly woman, locked eyes with Helen as she entered. The Dixon children had to be in their late teens but reeked of entitlement that made them seem badly immature. The whole family was stuffily dressed. Helen regretted coming in her gym warmups.
Then there was the other Helen, standing pale and still in a corner of the room, wearing a frilly pink dress that made outsider Helen want to gag.
“So? Are you going to get on with it?” Lord Dixon prompted.
“Oh, uh, yeah…”
As Helen sought what to say, the other her made desperate eye contact with a finger to her lips behind the family. Helen coughed and stood in awkward silence.
Lord Dixon sighed, “Your insistence on privacy is preposterous. We’ve all seen you before.”
Still, he inclined his head toward a side room that frilly Helen opened the door to. Helen followed herself through to the next room. Once the door was closed behind them, Frills turned on Helen.
“Who are you!?” Frills hissed urgently.
“Uh, Helen Harper?”
“Not the one I was expecting.”
“Ugh! More questions I don’t need.”
“Answers,” Frills softened. “You need answers.”
248 The Many Lives of Gemini words
@davidaludwig.bsky.social
“Kailyn, stop!”
The younger witch yanked her wrist out of Matt’s grip with a look that could have killed, literally. “Don’t tell me to stop and breathe!”
He sobered. “I didn’t ask you to breathe.”
Somehow that gentle, caring tone only made her blood boil more, causing dark magick to crackle around her frame. How can he be so damn calm?! It’s infuriating! He should be just as pissed as me.
“You were about to say it,” Kailyn growled.
“Perhaps… But we both know going in there with demands and weapons drawn will not solve anything.”
An abrupt laugh spilled from her lips. “So what do you suggest? Play nice? Like that has ever worked for me. I don’t need answers or explanations. What I need is my Coven member released. The Council wants to mess with me then they will mess with me, not them.” A dangerous edge slipped into her tone, and she saw right away how Matt stiffened his shoulders. He may never admit it and hardly show it, but sometimes, she knew her power and penchant for crossing lines scared the hell out of him.
Good, it should.
Matt swallowed hard. “It will only make matters worse. You know that. The Head Councilor will look for any way to back you in a corner. That’s exactly what this is. What we need to do is see Eammon first.”
“Eammon can’t help anymore, and I am tired of playing games with people who hide behind laws.”
~*~*~*~*~
249 WiP words
@daelynmorgana.bsky.social
#ThursThreads Week 607 is now CLOSED. Thanks to everyone who wrote this week and I hope to catch you next week.