Welcome back to the home of #ThursThreads for Week 645. 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 645:
Scottish Word Slinger, Dauntless romance author, and #ThursThreads host, Siobhan Muir.
Facebook | Bluesky | Patreon | Eden Books |
And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.
The Prompt:
“Remember that when I’m gone.”
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 Last Song
Every night, Doug Wakely went to sleep with the thought that this would be the night. The lyric that he craved would come to him. Perhaps even the tune but he realized that his forte, if he had one, was language. Down through the years, he’d penned a thousand lyrics. Occasionally he sang the better ones in the shower. The various women in his life would almost universally groan, say something like, “Hey Dougie, you have a cat in the shower with you?”
Mostly it was good natured fun, and he took no offence. His singing voice was slightly high-pitched and most of the songs he wrote were country folk, at least that is what he preferred in music.
But now, as he slept in bed, a wee portion of his brain was alive with country poetry. He woke, he thought he was awake, and the last song he’d ever write came to him.
Darlin’ we passed like ships at night,
I caught a brief glimpse of you
walkin’ in the fading evening light,
holding hands with another,
and darlin’, it just didn’t feel right,
so I slipped away into the shadows once again.
Darlin’, remember that when I’m gone from your life,
remember when I’ve become a memory,
the lovin’ joys we had, and yes, the lovin’ strife.
Remember all of that when I am gone.
Jeanne, his third wife who slept in another bedroom, found Doug the next morning.
Doug’s last song died with him.
250 words
@billmelaterplea
Dad pulls his black cape over his shoulders, fastening the gold dragonfly clasp. While he loads their suitcases, Mom takes all the fun out of staying home alone.
“No friends over and keep the doors locked. And don’t burn the house down like your brother did.”
“In his defense, he didn’t know he could do that.”
Mom buttons her emerald green cape and gives me that LOOK. “Can you remember that when I’m gone?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes.”
The door locks and I wait five seconds before I start my plans.
“Monica! Presley! Slumber party?”
Monica sprawls into the recliner, bare foot bouncing. “I did not want to spend all weekend practicing my powers with my sister.”
“Same!” Presley flops onto a bean bag. Her tennies thump onto the hardwood floor, socks stuffed inside. “My sister has zero patience.”
“What’d you get?” I ask, digging my bare feet into the couch cushions, which Mom hates.
“I control people. You don’t want to move and sign the papers? Too bad,” Monica says, puffing her hair out of her eyes.
“Weather,” Presley says. “I accidentally started the neighbor’s tree on fire practicing lightning.”
“Lucky.” My left hand forms into a paw with pink and black toe beans and soft grey and black striped fur. “Instead of powers, I got my animal form.”
“You’ve never been normal.” Presley giggles, shaking her head. “Why start now?”
I laugh, summoning a pile of chips, cookies, and pop. This is the best weekend ever!
@Aightball
250 words
Remember that when I’m gone,
Though tears maybe shed,
I’m always in your heart,
The memories I left behind,
Cannot be taken away,
Layer them in your mind’s eye,
Taking them out,
One by one,
Saving them for a rainy day,
Or just a day of joy.
I know this causes you pain,
For the love went both ways,
But love and friendship,
Never ends,
It never goes away,
It changes in the interim,
I maybe invisible,
But I’m waiting,
For all eternity,
To see you again,
Until then live,
Your life,
Find joy and peace,
As I hold your hand,
I’m not never far away,
Hoping your life is full,
Of love and light,
I will come into your dreams,
Guide you to the good,
Cheering you on,
Until we meet again,
Some far future day.
137 Words @SweetSheil (Bluesky and Twitter)
Lara sat primly, ignoring the boys. They ignored her too. She wished Xavier had let her stay home alone. She’d have been fine and she could finish her book. It was due back at the library tomorrow and she’d just gotten to the exciting part. Now she’d have to stay up late, hiding under the covers reading by flashlight.
“What’cha doin’, little girl?”
She glanced up and almost groaned. Misha. Why was he here? Way older, he normally ignored her, much to her discouragement because, yeah, she had a huge crush on him.
“I’m not little and I’ll grow up soon enough.”
“You are little to me.” His cocky grin irritated her. “And you always will be.”
“Remember that when I’m gone.”
“Gone? What’s that mean?”
“I won’t be around forever.”
He laughed. “You just gonna take off? Where could you go?”
His arrogance frustrated her but it was his utter dismissal of her as a person that hurt. He never acknowledged anything she did. She gathered up her stuff. When she looked back at him, her face was a blank slate, all emotion wiped clean.
“I’ll go where I want, when I want, do what I want. I’ll be something special.”
He laughed at her. “No, you will stay here with me. Always.
“Tell X I’m going home.”
Outside, she paused on the sidewalk to stare up at the shadowy figure watching from the third-floor window. “Be careful what you wish for.”
Was that caution for Misha or herself?
****
Silver James https://silverjames.com
Oops! Add:
250 Moonstruck Mafia: NYC (Russians) WIP words
Diana shook her head as they returned the way they came, taking the steep trail slowly. “Thank you very much for showing me the Whisper Cats. They were beautiful.”
Indy nodded, thinking the same could be said for the Keeper. “You’re welcome. Anytime you want to escape your minders, I’m your girl. Of course, you might have to spend a lot of time with the brightmares, but they’re not so bad once you get to know them.”
“I’d like that.” Diana reached up and scratched Casirra’s chin. “I love seeing the animals who live here. I think a lot of people are so stuck in ‘people-things’ they forget there’s a natural world outside.”
“‘People things’? Like what?” Indy held out a hand for Diana to take when stepping down a steep hill.
“Thanks. Oh, you know, intrigue, politics, the day’s to-do list. They’re so stuck on those things they forget to look around.” Diana grimaced. “I was never good at the politics and intrigue parts. My father lamented that I was the only one of his children who would rather be outside among the flowers and butterflies than inside at Court.” She flashed a bright smile. “He was right.”
Indira laughed as they stepped out onto the paved pathway. “Good to know. I find that a good quality, actually.”
“Oh, yeah?” Diana’s smile turned sweet. “Remember that when I’m gone back to the palace and I’m supposed to do something as a leader. I’ll try not to yawn too much.”
250 ineligible #SciFi words
@siobhanmuir.bsky.social
It was impossible to mistake the Wall of Stillness for ordinary fog. The Wall stretched across the entire horizon, rising from the clouds below until it finally thinned with the air above. It was enough to distract Suzy from the uncanny experience of flying without a ship.
“We will fall after entering the Wall of Stillness.” Mage Haust informed their companions. “Allow it to happen.”
Morrigan nodded calmly. Suzy tried to sound as calm.
“Fall? How far?”
“You should feel when the magic can support you again. If you hit water, you’ve gone too far.”
Great. Morrigan extended a hand toward Suzy.
“You can hold my hand, if you like.”
The mouseling shook her head. She might not be an elf or a god, but she wouldn’t be a burden, either.
“If we get separated in the Wall,” Haust continued, “we won’t be able to see each other. Continue north to reach the other side. Remember that when I’m gone.”
Suzy swallowed and grabbed Morrigan’s hand.
166 words
@davidaludwig.bsky.social
𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘼𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙒𝙚 𝙒𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙎𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙚
Snow drifted down outside the window where we sat—delicate, fleeting. We said, “See you again soon.” But we both knew that wasn’t true. I watched you go, and as your shadow disappeared around the corner at the end of the street, I saw your scarf still draped over the back of the chair.
I picked it up and breathed you in. Your perfume, the winter air, something unmistakably you. I knew you wouldn’t turn back. And I knew I shouldn’t follow.
Couldn’t.
I knew your scent would fade eventually. And your smile would grow distant, like a voice in another room.
Time does that.
I took the long way home, my solitary footsteps etched in the snow. Couples passed by, arm in arm, and I remembered how you used to say snow felt like magic. I wonder if it’s snowing where you are now and if it still feels that way. Do you still tilt your head back and let the flakes melt on your cheeks?
When I entered the apartment—the apartment we’ll never share—I hung your scarf on the hook in the hall, and I heard you whisper, “Remember that when I’m gone, you’ll find me in the quiet spaces.”
“I know,” I whispered back.
I looked around and imagined our daughter—the one we always dreamed of but who will never be. She was dancing through the living room. Her laughter echoed in the empty space, and for a moment, I almost saw her.
250 words
@krvanhorn (X)
@krvanhorn.bsky.social
This story was inspired by our prompt and by the song “The Apartment We Won’t Share” by Niki.
https://youtu.be/G0ljnXV-q40?si=3MiDYf9n47JQPbI1&t=303
If you all don’t know, I live in South Korea, so the prompt is posted at 11 PM my time, which is past my bedtime (but I stay up late so I can think about the prompt as I drift off to sleep). Yes, I’m old. haha
Last night, when I read the prompt, a thought came to my mind immediately, so I wrote it down. I don’t want to use it as my official entry, but I still want to post it here in case someone might be interested in reading it.
Siobhan, let me know if this is out of order, and I will refrain from doing something like this in the future.
***
Dear Mom,
I want to start by saying that none of this is your fault. I don’t blame you for anything, and I never want you to feel like you did something wrong. You’re not perfect, but who is? I know I’m not perfect either. I’ve always felt like I don’t really fit in, and because of that, I get picked on at school. People bully me, tease me, and…
It’s hard for me to put it all into words. I just hate how things are going. Truthfully, I hate my life, and I feel like I’ve hit a point where I can’t keep going like this.
When you heard we were studying the Transcendentalists in school, you shared a Thoreau quote with me. “I know of no more encouraging fact than the unquestionable ability of man to elevate his life by conscious endeavor.” I’ll never forget that, Mom. It really stuck with me.
I guess I’ll end by saying this. Remember that when I’m gone at school today, I’ll be okay. I’m still working through things and trying to be myself. Not everyone is going to love me or even like me. And that’s okay. I’m learning how to handle it.
But I know you love me, and that means everything to me. I’ll get through this, and hopefully, one day, I’ll find people who really get me.
Someday I’ll find my people!
I love you, and I just wanted to say thanks again… for everything.
Your son,
___
250 INELIGIBLE words.