Week 681 of #ThursThreads was a success, a remarkable feat for 13 solid years. Thank you to everyone who writes each week. You are why we’re still doing this. I’m truly grateful for all y’all!
If you’ve just found us, welcome to the crew! May you come back again and write more great flash. A thousand thanks to Louisa Bacio for judging this week. Follow Siobhan Muir on Bluesky or check out the #ThursThreads #flashfiction group on Facebook or the #ThursThreads Group on MeWe to keep up with news, etc.
Entries:
- Bill Engleson
- Eric Martell
- Joseph P. Garland
- Kelly Heinen
- Silver James
- Siobhan Muir
- David A. Ludwig
- Sheilagh Lee
Louisa says: All these writers deserve accolades. There’s so much energy and talent. So many lives whispering for stories. Thank you Siobhan Muir, once again, for inspiring many.
Honorable Mention
Bill Engleson | Website
Louisa says: Bill will haunt me with his “The Darkened Window.” The furious pacing and line breaks grab the reader by the hand and drag her along …
The short prose acts as a turn, another level of interpretation.
“But I did want more.
That was my Achilles heal.
I wanted more”
But the end, are you left with more or left waiting?
winner announcement
Week 681 Winner
Louisa says: Martell’s short fiction packs a lot of emotion and energy into it. And while Hope might feel like she doesn’t belong, the story convinces the reader otherwise.
Powerful dialogue of: “There’s different kinds of lonely.”
One higher-level editing suggestion: Watch how many times the word pulled/pulling is used and change it up.
Hope took a long pull on her bottle and a longer look over the lake, long enough that Ben wasn’t sure if she was going to answer him. Finally, she spoke, her voice quiet but steady. “I don’t need to. Belong, that is. Not with people who would treat me like that.”
“You’re not…lonely?”
Another long pull emptied the bottle, and Hope hurled it out into the water. “There’s different kinds of lonely.”
Ben’s bottle followed Hope’s. Then he snorted. “Probably should have put messages in them first.”
“There’s nothing to say. Not anymore.” She stood up and brushed leaves and twigs off her ass. She knew Ben would watch. Maybe later she’d see if he wanted to be lonely together.
Ben turned back to the water, pulling another bottle from his pocket. This one was filled with a thick, dark brown liquid. He held it up to Hope, who hadn’t walked away yet. She shook her head, so he pulled out the cork and took a mouthful. Then another.
Hope stared at him, then reached her hand out for the bottle. “Might as well get fucked up. Put all their bullshit behind me, right?”
Ben nodded. He could smell frost coming, the first of the season. They were going to have to go inside soon, maybe get something to eat. He reached up for the bottle, but Hope wasn’t holding it out for him. He heard her sniff, then sob, and decided to let her hold on to it.
~~~~~~~
Congratulations THIRTY-THREE TIME WINNER Eric, and Honorable Mention Bill! Don’t forget to claim your badges and display them with pride. You certainly earned it!
Pass on the great news on Facebook, MeWe, Bluesky, Mastodon, shiny mirrors, Morse Code, and signal flags. Check out all the original tales HERE. Thanks for stopping by and happy reading! 🙂
