Welcome back to the home of Paranormal & Dauntless Romance. Today is Thursday and that means it’s time to start flashing. We’re at the beginning of our ninth year of weekly prompts. It’s amazing we’ve gone this long! This is Week 449 of #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 Twitter handle or email in the post (so we don’t have to look for 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, Twitter, MeWe, and Google Plus, etc.
Our Judge for Week 449:
Science fiction/fantasy writer making stuff up on a trampoline in West Texas, Bokerah Brumley.
The Prompt:
“Of course there is.”
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 demon that wasn’t Amy was heavier than she’d been. She could pass as my friend easily; her mother couldn’t tell the difference.
“Tell me again,” she said, snuggling up, her hands light against my chest. “Tell me again how much you love me. You have to keep telling me that or what’s the point of us being together.”
I waited a while. She bent closer and nipped at my ear. She had two rows of the tiniest white teeth, like a shark.
“I don’t know. I know that Amy and I never used to do this.” I plucked at her blouse, lifting it away from her belly so I could see how she’d changed. I’d changed too, but I was different, more like my brother Adam. We used to be like twins once, Amy and me. The demon too; she’d been the same. At least for a while. We still exchanged clothes the way we’d always done but now they seemed to fit better when she wore them.
Maybe it was me that was wrong, not her.
The demon tried again. She flipped me over onto my back, grinning redly. She pushed me down onto the ground, one hand pressing against each of my shoulders.
“You think there’s a different energy between us? Of course, there is. We’re maturing, we’re more able to appreciate our pleasures. I only want what you want, believe me. Just trust me a little longer; let me show you what it is you need.”
250 steps toward purgatory ~ twothirdsrasta.blogspot.com
sorry typo left out a word fixed it so there’s still 250 words
I heard the noise the rattle of chains and the door unlocking,
“I’ll protect you Cecilia this time. There’s away.”
“Of course, there is.”
Grabbing the knife, I stabbed him until he lay in pools of blood on the floor.
A policeman stopped us.
“Why are you covered in blood and naked who is this?”
At the hospital they took Cecilia away. They injected me with something when I awoke, she was in a bed next to mine. The doctor told me they’d be keeping us for awhile. We were prisoners again. I’d protect Cecilia; no one would harm my twin.
I heard a nurse talking outside of my door to another, “This patient is dangerous. Only women are allowed in this room. She stabbed the male doctor that went in.”
What nonsense I hadn’t I wanted to but I hadn’t… yet.
“She was kidnapped and tortured at least nine years. They weren’t only children she’s barely eighteen. She killed her tormentor; but not before he killed her twin sister.”
What were they talking about? I’d saved Cecilia she was right there in the other bed.
“The patient’s name is Cecilia Warner.”
“Her sister the one that died?”
“Camila Warner had a scar on her hand, she doesn’t have one, she’s Cecilia .”
I wasn’t Camila, I was Cecilia? Looking over at the bed and Cecilia disappeared into the ether. I started screaming. I woke up and knew everything was okay Cecilia was in the other bed; I’d protected her.
250 words @SweetSheil
Bigger Guns Gum Up the Works
I wasn’t prepared for any more surprises. Mona’s spontaneous slaying of Detective Wick Waters had been quite enough. This new goober with the huge pistol worried me.
I lowered the phone onto the receiver.
“That a boy,” he said. Young AND patronizing, I thought. Not a nice mix.
I didn’t have a smartass retort at the ready. Hate it when that happens. Caught with my repartee down, I gave the gunsel a good lookover. He had a Marlboro man face, day-old beard, strong jaw, skin color an off bronze, somewhere between ancient parchment and a soiled baby’s butt, so his age was indeterminate.
Hell, I thought. I might even be younger than him.
“Mona, go frisk the peeper. But be careful.”
Mona jumped at the mention of her name. “I can’t, Skippy…I…”
“Skippy?” I blurted out.
“Yeah! But you can call me Pistol Pete, friend. Mona, grow a pair and pat him down. Of course, there is another option. I could just shoot him.”
I wasn’t ready to leave my fate up to Mona Monterey. “Hey,” I piped in, “I’ll pat my own self down. Even strip if that will keep things…peaceful.”
Mona suddenly got a grip, likely unnerved by the thought of me naked, and said, ”I’ll do it…”
She started walking towards me, almost in Skippy’s possible line of fire.
“MONA, don’t get between us,” Skippy the Gunsel yelled, “Get behind him.”
I nodded my agreement.
Mona clearly needed a frisking refresher.
250 WIP
@billmelaterplea
The three magicks lined up in front of the two women. Sade glanced at Verity. The little witch shrugged while biting her lips to keep from smiling. Sade didn’t manage to hide her eye roll. Gargoyle, fae, werewolf. Roman. Ariel. Caleb. She didn’t know whether to kiss them or kill them. She huffed out a disgusted breath.
“Roman is yours, Verity. You deal with him.”
The gargoyle looked affronted. “My mate does not deal with me.”
“Oh?” Verity stood a little straighter. “There was a witch.”
“Yes.” A slow smile cracked the stony facade of Roman’s face. “Are you jealous?”
“Oh puh-lease. We’ll discuss that later. Right now, we need to figure out—”
“No,” Sade interrupted. “You two should go back to New Orleans. Caleb and I will deal with this.”
“What about me?” Ari piped up.
“There’s absolutely no reason for you to be here.” Sade was adamant.
“Of course there is. I can help.”
“Stir up trouble,” Caleb muttered.
“I heard that, fuzzball.”
“Boys!” Sade barked.
“He’s right.” Roman’s quiet rumble grated along Sade’s last nerve. “We all need to be here. You will need our help before all is said and done, Sade. We don’t know what the dragon is up to. Who tried to use the witch against us? Not Nikos. Dragons do not truck with human magic.”
“And he wouldn’t hire human thugs,” Ari pointed out.
Sade sighed. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
“What else is new?” Caleb asked no one in particular.
****
250 Penumbra Papers WIP words
@SilverJames_
Martin made the familiar unconscious movement with his hand over his upper lip before he took off his hat, dusting the thigh of his pants. The air in the construction site felt heavier, dirtier than usual. “I’ve seen some weird shit, Sal…”
Sal was looking hard at the deep depression in the earth, the smaller depressions criss-crossing the gravel, disturbed patches of grass out further, and, most noticeable, the glowing electric blue goo. “Looks like some youngins blew up an oil tanker filled with paint bombs.” He took up a random, broken metal rod in a tentative hand, crouched down, and gave the goo a good poke. “Goddam kids.”
Martin swallowed hard and made his same unconscious movement. “No need ta report this. Kids is the reasonable explanation.” Another swipe, his tick growing stronger the longer they stared. His gut grew uneasy. “No reason to wonder about it, bring in any–”
“Experts? Of course there is.” Sal stood up and tossed his rod far from their feet. “But that’d only bring more them outsiders in, asking their questions, nosing about the town. We don’t need more attention. We go shit to do. Work to be done.”
They both stumbled backward as the largest goo glob bubbled upward and burst.
“Like a bubblegum fart.”
Sal cackled. “You made more sense, Martin, when you were still smokin’ weed.”
“What now, then?” Martin replaced his hat on his head.
“Bring in the cats, fill it in. Dead, buried, gone.”
247 words–Two Men and the Secret
(Sorry the first post didn’t transfer paragraphs. Posted again)
More glass and plaster lay strewn about the hallway and a couple of the fluorescent lights flickered while their covers hung from the ceiling in broken disarray. Chester swallowed hard and pushed the door open to stick his head out.
“Oh my glory, Tessa!” He shoved the door open and ran down the hallway to find the guard leaned against the wall with a pinched expression on her face. “Are you hurt? What can I do?”
“Dr. Martell, I need you to find something to use for a tourniquet.”
“Shit!” He crouched beside her and tried not to faint at the sight of blood staining her tan uniform pants. He’d taken basic first aid when he was in high school, but most of it drained out of his memory when he needed it. “What about my belt? Will that work?”
“Yeah, that should be fine.” She looked a little gray as he unbuckled the belt.
I probably look like I’m doing something inappropriate. At least there was no one else in the hallway to see him do it. Except the door at the far end cracked open and someone poked their head in. A pretty woman with intense green eyes and sharp arching brows. She wore a ballcap with some sports team’s logo and she fixed her gaze on him as he yanked his belt free of the loops.
And of course there is someone who just happens to come in right now.
He just hoped she wouldn’t shoot him.
250 ineligible #Sirens words
@SiobhanMuir
Hunter Lee’s aura of ill humor preceded the human to Jerem Matis’ second floor office. The ambitious adventurer only ever came to see Jerem when he needed work. To be fair, Hunter always seemed to need work. The spectacled half elf was already picking through possibilities when his friend of five years sulked in to sink in a chair across Jerem’s desk. Jerem attended to Hunter with a sympathetic hum.
“Did she beat you to another score?”
Normally the answer would be yes. The lack of Hunter’s blunt grin revealed things had not gone well, though Jerem’s door still on its hinges and furniture intact cast some confusion as to the character of this calamity.
“Nah, she neva showed.” Hunter dropped his face into his hands. “Was justa bum lead this time.”
Jerem swallowed. His purse didn’t mind the lack of property damage, but he had never seen his friend this low. Coming up from the docks as a broker who didn’t ask questions, Jerem had seen his share of hard luck cases, but Hunter’s misfortunes could cause one to believe in the generational curses of ancient times.
“I, I’m afraid I don’t have much for you.” Jerem spread the few letters on his desk apologetically.
“I just need ‘nuff ta get some tucker for Schooner an’ me.”
Jerem only had one request that would feed those two. He winced as he slid it over to Hunter.
“There is one. From Duchess Antoinette.”
Hunter groaned, “Of course there is.”
249 Cat’s The Pajamas words
@DavidALudwig
There are things I ought to be doing. I’m suffering from this medical condition called feline paralysis. It’s a real problem and prevents any movement on my part. So the carpet needs vacuuming. The cat is asleep and I’m not going to wake her.
Of course there is a down side: my foot is asleep. And my knee hurts from being bent for so long. Little miss white, brown, and black calico kitty can sleep as long as she wants on my foot. Besides, Callie hates the vacuum, so that’s a good reason not to run the sweeper.
“You haven’t moved from that spot on your couch all afternoon.”
I lick the salt off my fingers and put my chip bag aside. Mom rolls her eyes and glares at the cat, who shifts to my other leg, providing much needed relief. My foot starts to wake up and I try not to wince.
“Nope. I’m not moving Callie.”
“She’ll move if I get the sweeper out,” Mom says, walking toward my front closet.
She turns the knob and Callie rockets from my lap, sitting in front of Mom. She looks up at my mom lovingly, trying to say she’s hungry. Mom opens the door and Callie jumps head first into her food.
“Come get your cat,” she says.
Limping, I retrieve the fluffy monster from the food and hand her to Mom.
“Fine, I’ll vacuum.”
Mom sets the squirming cat down and leaves. And I was so comfy, too, damnit.
@Aightball (also suffering from feline paralysis)
250 words
“Sam, there is evidence that puts you at the scene of the crime.”
Roger looked worried as he gave her the information.
“Of course there is! For once, I would love to not be the primary suspect in a murder!”
“Well, did you actually do it this time?”
This was the third murder this month that Sam had been suspected of committing. The thing is she had never been formally charged. The trail always went cold or led to someone else at the last minute. Sam was either the luckiest person or the most cursed, which one is yet to be determined.
Sam bats her eyes trying to make herself seem as innocent as possible. That look might have worked on the rest of the world but Roger knew her better than he knew himself.
“Well…?” Roger asked even though he already knew the answer.
“Of course I did, but you know they’ll never catch me. I’ve turned into a master at covering my tracks and conveying my innocence.”
Eventually, it would all catch up to them but until then Roger enjoyed the perks he recieved each of these encounters. As the police chief, he was able to bend the rules a little.
201 words
The sharks swarmed, tails swishing back and forth. The ocean churned with their muscular gray bodies. Unless it was on one of those documentary nature series, she’d never seen them so hyped up. Her familiar Spike dodged sharp teeth, stretching his small body and then coiling into an accordion-like shape. His tiny winged fins pumped with a mixture of adrenaline and fear.
Each emotion hit Serena like her own. She willed him to make it through the danger zone safely, unscathed.
She’d signed up for this job alone, and wasn’t used to working with so many others. She relied upon herself, and took care of herself. Now, the responsibility of so many lives rested upon her tale.
“It’s too dangerous.” Peder stretched him arm out, blocking her path to turn around. Solemnly, the corners of his eyes creased and he shook his head. “There’s no reason to go back.”
He didn’t get it. Of course there is. She didn’t feel like arguing. Sometimes being quiet worked in her favor. If she didn’t verbally disagree, then the other person might think she did. She held the element of surprise.
“Mmmhmmmm.” She didn’t have a choice. She’d pledged to protect the Princess, no matter what, upon her life. Once she made that promise, there was no going back. It didn’t matter if she wanted to or not …
The magical tattoo on her hand glowed, reinforcing her decision. If he wasn’t going to support her, then she’d have to do it herself.
@LouisaBacio
250 words
When I come to, the first thing I register is a pounding headache. My eyes burn, like I’m seeing daylight for the first time in months. Dawn peeks out above the trees, and I’m struck by the memory of the previous night.
The hooded figures, the ceremonial dagger. My status as Vessel. I sit up, trying to remember. I’m no longer on the raised stone dais, but lying in the grass beside it. Around me, the clearing is a bloodbath. All that’s left of the men who took me is torn cloaks, splatters of blood, and bits of flesh. I’m drenched in grime, the once white dress beyond saving.
“Goddammit.”
“God had nothing to do with it.” I recognize the voice immediately. The shadows nearby, though diminishing in the rising sun, take on a humanoid shape. I follow the shadow and realize I’m the one casting it.
“It wasn’t a bad dream.” To escape one demon, I invited another. My heart twists with fear – he may be worse than the one I’d been intended for.
“Afraid not.” The shadow shifts, and gaps form where his mouth and eyes would be.
“What happens now? You get my soul, or something?”
“Of course there is always payment, but that’s not it.” He pulls away from the ground, coming to loom over me. I do my best to stand my ground, be defiant. “No – our arrangement will be a partnership.”
The edge to his voice tells me this isn’t what he wanted, either.
250 words, revisiting an old story
@katheryn_avila
The Devil in the Details
Evan sat in the back of a squad car, watching as the cleanup crew tried to figure out what had happened.
Investigators hated dealing with scenes he’d been a part of and the forensics department had a special box they brought out whenever they found out he’d been involved in a given situation.
One version of the ‘Evan Kit’ included candles, holy water, and instructions for an exorcism.
He knew they were joking, but what they didn’t understand was that the kit had been far more useful than they understood.
Hell, it had saved his neck more than once.
He watched as the tendrils of smoke and ash coalesced in the shadows. From the feel of things— they were going to need the kit.
He was relieved when the chief investigator finally let him out of the back of the cruiser and undid his handcuffs.
“Now, you want to fill us in?”
“I’m still figuring things out, but there is a perfectly logical reason for all of this.”
“Of course there is.”
Evan saw a pair of molten eyes watching us from the dark. Perfectly logical— if you believe in demons and blood magic.
Most people didn’t, until they had no choice to believe.
It was going to be a long night.
212 words (not including title)
@mishmhem
#ThursThreads Week 449 is now CLOSED. Thanks to everyone who wrote this week and I hope to catch you next week.