Welcome back to the home of #ThursThreads for Week 635. Year 12! What a fantastic testament to the writing community. Y’all rock!
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 US.
- 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 635:
Gamer, writer, and responsive connoisseur of characters and stories, David Ludwig.
And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.
The Prompt:
“This timing unsettled him.”
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!
The crowd in the bar was steady, not heaving but busy enough for him to get lost in the movements in others. The band finished up the latest number and the dancing couples paused to give a round of applause. Jazz wasn’t his first choice but it was calming and people were content to let you just sit and listen.
After the week he’d had, he just needed to sit amongst others and be. To be honest, after the last month was all too much. Dealing with monsters and demons tended to be a stressful position but he had very nearly lost his mind. Getting stuck in purgatory would do that to you.
“Buy a girl a drink?” She’d managed to slide onto the stool next to him without him even spotting her approach.
“Sasha?”
“Oh good, and here was me thinking you’d forgotten me.” She smiled and it felt like the bottom had fallen out his world again just like it did every time the love of his life appeared. But the last time had been different, so final and after everything that had happened lately. The timing unsettled him. He glanced back at the couples on the floor. Nothing had changed. Nothing at all. Every couple that was dancing had been dancing when he arrived, they were even all doing the same routine.
“Damnit. I’m still in purgatory.”
Sasha sighed in relief. “You and me both Cowboy. Now how the hell are we getting out?”
247 words @Lexikonical
Reunion
The clouds parted. Donald Gizmo couldn’t believe his luck. The whole day had been dark with lingering storm clouds. The river nearby was running wild from the latest storm. The radio reported a landslide down by Tucker’s Folly that had taken out a section of track and Bing Bellows cabin just above.
Bing had been a character, a Korean War vet, a novelist who had penned a series of Science Fiction epics, including one best seller, They’re Here, Aren’t They.
None of his other writings had achieved the success of that book but sales and residuals had allowed him to live the life he wanted which was basically living in his hillside cabin, shooing people off his property, and waiting for the visitation he argued had already occurred.
Donnie Gizmo had been Bing’s acolyte. He’d met Bing back in ’63 when he’d been hiking in the woods above Tucker’s Folly. He’d tumbled into a gully and lain there for a couple of hours before Bing found him and helped him back to the cabin.
Bing had harangued him about what had caused him to fall. “You saw them, didn’t ya?” After a couple of hours of interrogation, Gizmo had finally agreed that he had seen something.
That satisfied Bing.
Over the years, Gizmo had come to believe that he had indeed seen something and that something was a space visitor.
Now Bing was dead. This timing unsettled him. Bing’s death… the ship above the clouds…it was all too much.
250 Words
@billmelaterplea
The sun was just setting behind the low hills and Zed capitalized on the concealment it provided him. Removing his ghillie suit hood, he reveled in the cool kiss of air that act allowed. Sipping sparingly from his water pack, he returned focus to his sight picture . Nothing had changed since his last check.
Based on two previous dry runs, he’d had no reason to expect it would. The scope’s digital readout confirmed the wait time he’d factored in. Time, he mused, was so often the most unforgiving factor of his mission planning. It was a strictly linear progression from forward to past. Inescapable and unforgiving in its march.
Considering the sheer number of missions he’d undertaken over the years, this was perhaps the worst of them all. He could scarcely quell his misgivings. Something…something was just not…right. If he were to be, as always, ruthlessly honest with himself he knew what that feeling of unease came from.
Whatever else he might consider relevant, it was the timing that came to the forefront. This timing unsettled him beyond anything he’d ever experienced. Based on a wide range of sources, he concluded the…subject was no longer a viable threat to his employers. As unfounded or inaccurate as polling statistics might be, there were less…disturbing ways to overcome any potential “setbacks”.
As disgruntled or dissatisfied as Zed might be, the ping from his earpiece refocused him in a heartbeat. Squeezing off a single silenced round, he confirmed his takedown and extracted. Yes, time was quite unforgiving and now was not the time to quibble.
Word Count: 263
Great to see you, Jeff. It looks a little long. You might want to edit. And don’t forget to add your social media handle, whichever one you like so we can contact you. Thanks!
Mac glanced at his wife. Propped on her elbows, Hannah bent over the kitchen counter studying the cookbook sprawled open in front of her. Their son sat on a stool beside her.
Liam patted her encouragingly. “It’s not that hard, Mom.”
“Easy for you to say,” she muttered.
Looking away in case she caught him smiling, he refocused on the intelligence report he held. They might be living off the grid but he had ways of keeping a finger on the pulse of their enemies. He had to take them down so his wife and son could live their lives out in the open—well, as open as any Wolf could live. And it wasn’t just Hannah and Liam. The fates of all his men and their families rested on his ability to lead them through perilous times.
His phone pinged. Glancing down, he read Lightfoot’s text message. Mac’s second in command was moving Liz and Micah. Again. He’d gotten the same messages from Nate and Sean. Even Rudy and Antoine, despite the tightly-knit Cajun community out in the bayous keeping them and their mates safe, were on the move.
This timing unsettled him. All of them were being herded to the same area. Why now? And why there? He needed more info
Glass shattered in the kitchen. He jumped to his feet as Hannah let loose with a string of curses. He smiled. Frozen pizza for dinner. Again. He’d figure it out, keep them safe. That’s what Alpha’s did.
****
250 Moonstruck: Retribution WIP words
Silver James https://www.facebook.com/AuthorSilverJames/
Corbin scowled. “Did you know he was the grandson of John Hiller?”
“Oh my, I had no idea.” Estelle’s voice dropped. “It seems strange that he’s here now when his grandfather’s place was on the market ten years ago. Where was he then?”
“I dunno. I had the same question.”
“Hmm.” Sounds of keys clicking came through the phone. “Let me do a little digging and see what I can find out. I’ll get back to you soon.”
“Thanks, Estelle.”
The call ended and Corbin scowled. This timing unsettled him. It seemed hinky as hell. But if anyone could find out, it was Estelle. She’d been a cyber forensics specialist with National Intelligence before the stress got too much and she decided to sell real estate in a small quiet town. No one expected her to be a hacker at her age, but looks could be deceiving.
Someone knocked on the doorjamb behind him and Corbin swiveled away from the window to glance over his shoulder.
“Everything okay?” Martin’s expression didn’t give away whatever his thoughts were, but he still wore his “SEAL mode” vibe.
“Not yet, but my real estate agent will get to the bottom of this and find out more.”
Martin raised an eyebrow. “Your real estate agent is gonna look into Aberdeen?”
“Don’t let the name and profession fool you. Estelle can find stuff you think was scrubbed from your history anywhere online. If there’s something to find, she’ll uncover it.”
245 ineligible #WIP words
@siobhanmuir.bsky.social
“The night sky is beautiful.”
Morrigan sighed at the lightless void above. There wouldn’t be any moons for the next three nights. Her fellow guard shot her a look. She could tell, this timing unsettled him.
“We are Unseelie,” she explained. “Why shouldn’t we enjoy the Dark?”
“Because we protect the world from it?”
Morrigan shook her head with a half-smile.
“We attend it. Not quite the same.”
Morrigan wasn’t much older than her partner, but she had clearly taken more interest in the lore of their court since being assigned to it. Well, that wasn’t surprising. She poured over it obsessively.
Luckily, her sister Erin was as invested in the Seelie lore as Morrigan was in the Unseelie. They could spend weeks comparing notes. And yet there was a question. Something big that Morrigan couldn’t put to words. Something insufficient in fey philosophy. Sometimes she wondered if the answer might be out there, in the Dark.
“Hey, keep an eye out. I’ll be back in a moment.” Morrigan turned toward the Nightwall.
“Wait, what?”
Calling on the shadows to carry her, Morrigan leapt to the top of the obsidian wall stretching from horizon to horizon.
“What are you doing!? I am not helping you if you touch the Dark!”
Everyone who had ever touched the Dark had gone mad. But Morrigan wondered. Reaching forward, her hand was veiled in inky darkness. It was cold. But she felt no malice or even threat.
Morrigan stepped off into the Dark.
249 INELIGIBLE words
@davidaludwig.bsky.social
One day on the journey along the coastline, Sunshine landed on the beach, at a river delta.
The machines spoke to her, “Follow the river.”
“Why?”
“It leads to the Angels.”
“But the Angels want to kill the magic. Won’t they want to kill me?”
“The Angels will ignore you. They will treat you as if you are no threat to them.”
She started to follow the river. The machines continued. “This will take days.”
“Oh,” Sunshine nodded. “The river is long.”
“Yes.”
“Will I find anything along the way?”
“One great dragon.”
“And what is this dragon’s name?”
“He has no name. He is the guardian. The warning. He watches the Angels.” There was a pause, “He knows you are coming. This timing unsettled him. The Angels are starting to act.”
“Perhaps I should not proceed.”
“No. You will be safe. The dragon will show you the way.”
She slept that night on a cot underneath the stars. It was a simple bed the machines made for her. She ate the simple meal of fruit and nuts that the machines provided. And she wondered when she would meet this dragon.
191 Words (Per Google Write)
@mysoulstears.bsky.social