Welcome back to the home of #ThursThreads for Week 638. 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 638:
Dead Thing Specialist, Mining Geologist, and Original Book Boyfriend, George Varhalmi.
Facebook |
And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.
The Prompt:
“They do go quickly, don’t they?”
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!
***An Old Friend***
“Well, look who it is. Fancy seeing you here.
You don’t remember me, do you? Have I gotten that old? You look great, though.
Wow, this is awkward. Okay, hang on. Give me a second.
There. Over there. See that boy? No, not him. That one, yeah, the one with the green shirt. Playing in the sand. No, he’s not by himself.
What do you mean, what do I mean? Look closer.
No, he’s not talking to himself, either.
Me, of course!
Well, a younger me, to be sure.
Who am I? Come on, you know. I’m his Imagination. You knew that, though. Don’t you recognize the shirt? You loved that shirt.
Ah, there it is. You remember now.
No, don’t worry about it. A lot’s happened since then. Hard to keep track of it all, right?
Anyway, it’s good to see you. Been too long. Yes, indeed—they do go quickly, don’t they?”
153 words
@clay_sweatpants
The Sky’s the Limit, the Absolute Limit
“They make a buzzing sound, right?”
“Not always, but often. Certainly recreational drones do. “
“That’s what we’re talking about here, right. Damn propellers whirring, hissing like some giant flying wasp alley cat…?”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Well, you don’t have to do you? You don’t live in Jersey do you? From outta state?”
“Canada, actually.”
“Then what the hell are you doing here? Surely you foreign reporters have your own obnoxious drone stories to cover up there?”
“Not quite as interesting as this one. Actually, we have regulations that govern flying drones over someone’s property.”
“Well, so do we in Jersey. You know, the usual, don’t mess with a police action, stay away from prisons…no one wants drugs and guns dropped in to prisoners…and you need to be sober to fly a drone…”
“That last one is probably hard to enforce. I mean, they do go quickly, don’t they? Gone in a flash. Whose to say where the ground pilot is and whether he’s inebriated?”
“Well, this is Jersey, ain’t it? Everyone here has a bit of a buzz on. What we are really worried about is aliens, Iranians, and who knows, maybe even Canadians spying on us. Wouldn’t put it past you Canuckleheads…”
“No need for name calling. I’m just here to report.”
“So, you say. I’m beginning to wonder. Our so-called undefended border…maybe it’s time to build a wall. A Drone proof wall?”
“Good luck with that, Yank.”
249 Words
@billmelaterplea
My babies were grown, the house empty, and quiet. The doorbell rang. I ignored it but it rang again. I found my father had let himself in.
“They do go quickly, don’t they?” he said.
“Was it this bad for you?” I asked.
“Yes, I grieved. Time goes so fast you think they’ll always going to live with you and then suddenly they are gone.”
“I’m so sad all I can think is my baby is never coming home.”
“She’ll come home bring her dirty laundry and problems she needs you to listen to but it won’t be quite the same.”
“How so?”
“You taught her how to be an adult so she’ll start to act like one finding a partner to share her life. That’s what you want for her, it’s what I wanted for you. Caleb seems to make you so happy., I must have done something right.”
“You did everything right. Thanks Dad!”
“I thought you might need some company and a distraction. I have a surprise for you. For just the two of us some father/ daughter time.”
“But what about Caleb?”
“Caleb told me just kidnap you and go,”
“Go to what?”
“INSYNC, and Backstreet Boys I hope you still like them!”
“I love you.”
“Love you. too let’s go they’re on at 8 p.m.”
We enjoyed the concert and I felt better We enjoyed the concert and I felt better, Jessie would always be my daughter as I was dad’s.
246 Words
@SweetSheil
“They do go quickly, don’t they?” Lise said, flumping next to me on the sofa.
“What do?” I replied.
“The years, of course, Dad.”
She’s seventeen and I didn’t have the nerve to tell her how they go warp speed when you hit thirty. And forget about fifty and you’ve got a kid who’s about to go off to college in a microsecond.
“What brought this on, Lise?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because I got the proofs for my yearbook photos today…”
“Oooh. Can you show me?”
“No! I mean later. It’s just that I looked and didn’t see any braces on my teeth, or missing ones, or pigtails, or big bows or a stupid happy smile at all,” she said. “I did see a crinkle by my right eye, though, which is higher than the left, and my shoulders looked like Mom’s”
“First, poets could write sonnets about your Mom’s shoulders.”
“Dad!”
“Secondly, you’re not that little gap-toothed, freckled, red-headed munchkin anymore, and…”
“Oh, and I hate my hair.”
“Please. You’re a brilliant, beautiful young woman, much to my geriatric shock, since I feel like I dropped you off at kindergarten last Tuesday.”
“Don’t get me wrong, Dad, I’m looking forward to doing all the growing up college things…”
“Ummm.”
“I just wish everything would slow down so I could hold onto more memories of my life.”
I pulled her close to me, looked in her heretofore secretly uneven eyes, and sighed, “Me too, Lise. Me too.”
250 Words
@JAHesch
@jahesch.bsky.social
Despite turning up the thermostat, whacking it, and calling it names, the digital display stubbornly says 58. All of the furnace repair places are booked, since apparently everyone’s furnace quit on the same day. Joy. I’d start a fire but there’s no fireplace and I don’t want to suffocate from carbon monoxide poisoning.
Instead, I hunker down under two thick quilts, trying to type with mittens on; work doesn’t quit because the furnace goes out. I try to ignore the fact my nose is numb.
“Group one is arriving. Also, level five has no heat.”
“No one has heat. I’ve called every repair place and it’s a minimum two days wait.”
People think I can wave my hand and things are fixed; I’m the Devil, not a magician. I’m at the mercy of repairmen, same as everyone else.
“Stan! Group two arrived early!”
My secretary swings the door open, angry voices of the damned filling my office. Shit. Shedding my blankets with great reluctance, I walk into the reception area, suddenly over capacity.
My secretary and I call off names and as always, there are people in the wrong place. I pull five people to the side and one elderly woman taps me on the arm.
“They do go quickly, don’t they? My husband is waiting for me and has probably starved without my cooking!”
“They go as fast as possible,” I say, smiling. “If you’re in line one, follow me!”
Shivering, I hope that repairman comes a day early.
@Aightball
250 words
The second grove was bursting with ripe fruit so I took my time filling my sacks, enjoying the sweet scented fruit and the wind rusting the broad leaves of the trees.
An odd whistling sound hit my ears and I rolled one eye in the direction of it. I didn’t see anything clearly, but I caught a shadow slipping across the sky off to my left. I tensed, for a moment fearing the invaders had returned, but their mechanical sounds were different that what I’d heard.
Ryshtar.
As if my thought had called him into existence, he stepped between the tree, his wings folded on his back.
“Pretty grove of sweetfruit trees. Did you plant them?”
I turned my head to look at him. “I did.”
He nodded. “They look about twenty anua old, given their leaf size.”
“You can tell their age by leaf size?” I tilted my head.
“Mostly. The first couple of anua they grow most of their adult height, so it’s harder to tell. But the fruits don’t come until they’re mature around four anua.”
“They do go quickly. Don’t they produce fruit the first anua? I found them, but they weren’t worth eating so I just harvested the seeds for more groves.”
He nodded again. “That’s their plan. The fruits smell good but are karn-near inedible the first few anua. Still things eat them and spread their seeds far and wide. It’s how they propagate after a fire.” He waved at my sacks. “Can I help?”
250 ineligible #WIP words
@siobhanmuir.bsky.social
“How high can you fly?” asked The Watcher.
“How high do I have to fly?” Sunshine replied.
The Watcher said nothing, but started to fly up, higher into the sky, “The Angels stay close to the ground. If we go high, they will leave us alone.”
“How high?”
“As high as you can get.”
As they flew, they worked higher and higher above the ground. They flew in silence. The only sound Sunshine heard was the beating of The Watcher’s large wings. She followed him, great dragon that he was, higher and higher. Until The Watcher started into a circular flight pattern. “We are here.”
Way below them was the city of the Angels. Sunshine watched the ground as best she could. “You should use the wild magic, fairy,” The Watcher informed her.
As she flew in that circle, she called on the machines. “I need to see the ground. To see the Angles.”
The machines made her a pair of binoculars. She looked through them at the ground. She saw the Angels and their city. She saw the male Angels in armor, gathering in groups, arranged in formations. “They go to war, don’t they?”
“Yes,” The Watcher responded.
Sunshine watched as the Angels moved about. “They do go quickly, don’t they?”
“Yes.”
“We should warn everyone they are coming.”
“We should.”
“How?” Sunshine realized she didn’t know how to send messages to Mystica or Merlin.
“The machines will warn them,” The Watcher spoke one last time.
248 Words (Per Google Write)
@mysoulstears.bsky.social
“They do go quickly, don’t they?”
The elf nodded, sizing up his mark. He sensed he’d got a sale. He could almost feel the bulge in his pocket.
“They’re tired,” he said. “But they’ll be fast again tomorrow. They only need a little time. And a couple of bushels of carrots.” He patted the one with a sore on its nose and ruffled the fur between its antlers. “You gotta stoke the furnace before they can perform again. It’s a well-known fact of nature.”
The trader looked down his nose and sniffed the air. There was something foul in the stable, a scent of corruption and rancour. He’d been swapping out broad beans for magic ones, but the gold sovereigns in his pouch were genuine. Sometimes you had to take a risk and use real cash.
Elves were notorious for being tricksters and well known as being vengeful if they got the worst of a deal.
“Have you got any certification for these beasts? A deed of sale or a certificate of provenance? You’re asking an awfully steep price for these creatures.”
The elf drew in a long breath. He wanted to prolong the experience, knowing the trader would baulk at the deal if he tried to close it too quickly. But he knew that the glue holding the antlers in place would soon weaken. A donkey, a camel and a llama were definitely not reindeer, but with a little imagination and a dimly lit barn he could swing it.
250 words – twothirdzrasta.blogspot.com
DJ glowered at the files piled on her desk. “Why me?” she groused.
The deputy marshal at the next desk snorted. “Because you’ve got the best clearance rate in the office.”
She leaned back until her chair creaked. “That’ll teach me.”
“Awww, whatsa matter, hot shot?” Another deputy grinned from two desks away.
“You’re just jealous.” She could banter with the best of them. She wasn’t the only female in the office but she was more like one of the guys than the others.
He eyed the stack. “Better you than me, darlin’.”
With a heavy sigh, DJ grabbed the top file, opened it, and proceeded to read the first page.
Two hours later, she closed the last folder and flexed her right hand, surprised it wasn’t cramping from the copious notes she’d made on each case. Twisting in her chair to stretch the stiffness in her back, she eyed the eight empty paper cups littering her desk. When the heck had she drunk all that coffee? She hadn’t left her chair. Evidence indicated they’d just magically appeared. She stared, dumbfounded.
“They do go quickly, don’t they?”
She glanced up at the deeply masculine and cultured voice. And blinked. The man was completely at odds with the image her brain had instantly conjured. No sexy 007-type hunk this. Nope. He was slender, bespectacled and short. “Excuse me?”
“Criminals and cups of coffee. They go down swiftly, do they not?”
“Who are you?”
“Newton Graham. FBI. We need to talk.”
****
249 MOONSTRUCK: RETRIBUTION WIP words
Silver James (silverjames.com)
“Is there anywhere to get food around here? Other than that teahouse?”
Morrigan questioned the little mouse-girl strolling at her side, hands clasped behind her head.
“No where good that I’d be welcome.”
Morrigan frowned. It was nice having a companion again, but she needed a proper meal soon.
“My name is Morrigan. What’s yours?”
“Suzuko, but everybody calls me Suzy.”
“Alright, Suzy, what do you usually do for food?”
Suzy shrugged.
“I just go wherever smells good and take what I want. I don’t usually get caught.”
The mouseling leapt onto the low wall alongside the road, putting her head at eye level with Morrigan.
“You always steal your food?”
Morrigan considered her cute companion.
“It’s that or forage in the woods. I can’t usually afford food, even at the places that serve halflings.”
“You… Have to pay for food?”
Suzy squinted at the mystified Morrigan.
“Don’t you?”
Morrigan shook her head.
“I thank those who give it to me as best I can, but I didn’t realize it was transactional.”
“What kind of thanks gets you free food?”
“Hunting oni, mostly.”
Suzy’s jaw dropped.
“You can fight oni?”
“They’re my specialty.”
Morrigan’s stomach interrupted the conversation with an awkward gurgle. Suzy laid her ears back guiltily.
“I should’ve given you that dumpling! It was the last one…”
“They do go quickly, don’t they?” Morrigan smiled gently.
“Well,” Suzy perked up importantly. “If you can beat oni, I do know somewhere we can get a really awesome meal!”
249 words
@davidaludwig.bsky.social
“Ah… They do go quickly, don’t they?” The high priest sighed, looking out the window in his office.
Maya watched the high priest’s straight back from his chair. Bastard. He clenched his hands as he reminding himself, funding for the rune fortification.
The high priest turned to face Maya with a gentle smile. “Ten years, eight months, twenty-one days, and,” glancing at his gilded timepiece, “there hours and thirty-five seconds.” The high priest sat in his chair. “How has the fortification progressed?”
“We’ve covered about twenty percent on the southern side,” Maya replied monotonously to avoid giving the conniving bastard more ammunition against the project.
“That is quite an achievement,” the high priest commented, nodding his head. Leaning forward he asked with a gleam in his eyes, “Tell me, at the rate you are progressing, how long would it take o complete if I provided twenty additional rune casters?”
Maya’s eyes widened a smidgen. What was his game? A colossal waste of good resources, was the dirty bastard’s claim. “About seventy years.”
“Hmm… So the next generation will be the ones to complete it ” The high priest leaned back in thought.
“…yes,” Maya agreed reluctantly. Was the going to shut it down? No. Maya would fight him tooth and nail.
“All right. I’ll assign 25 rune casters.”
Maya’s jaw dropped. What was going on?
“Instead, I want you back in the Capital. As the Commander of the City Watch.” The high priest smiled serenely.
245 words. @infiblue.bsky.social
She stares at the photo in her gnarled liver-spotted hand. The image shakes slightly as her arm trembles. There is something familiar about the person in the picture but she can’t remember. She knows she should know who this person is but it isn’t coming to mind. Like so much else it seems.
With a huff of frustration, Olivia puts the photo down on the little table beside her bed. It joins a collection of photos scattered across the surface. Many of them feature the same lovely young woman, the same woman who graced the top photo. Others feature her and a rather handsome man of about the same age. A few even have small children with the couple. A family. Someone’s family.
She has a family, doesn’t she? Why can’t she remember?
“They do go quickly, don’t they?” a young woman asks, sitting to her left. The woman looks somewhat like the woman in the photos, not the same person, but certainly related.
“Hmm?”
“Your memories.”
Olivia sighs and looks out the window. The woman by her side also looks familiar but she can’t place the woman’s name. It’s frustrating feeling there is so much she should know that she can’t recall. Scary really. How much has she forgotten? Why has she forgotten so much? She’s forgotten so much she doesn’t even know what she is supposed to know.
“Who are you again?”
The woman smiles softly and grasps Olivia’s hand gently. “I’m Elizabeth, your granddaughter.”
247 words
@MLGammella
#ThursThreads is now CLOSED. Thanks to everyone who wrote this week and I hope to catch you next week.