#ThursThreads – Tying Tales Together – Week 358

Welcome back to the Weird, the Wild, & the Wicked. Today is Thursday and that means it’s time to start flashing. We’ve reached our Sixth year of weekly prompts! This is Week 358 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 358:

Fantasy Author, and Holder of Several Stories, David Ludwig.

Facebook | Twitter

And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.

The Prompt:

“I think maybe you’re right.”

All stories written herein are the property (both intellectual and physical) of the authors. Now, away with you, Flash Fiction Fanatics, and show us your #ThursThreads. Good luck!

36 Replies to “#ThursThreads – Tying Tales Together – Week 358”

  1. The trouble with binge watching TV shows, and movies, and being a writer at the same time, is your brain cells going nuts, and inventing oceans of stories. I’d always loved to watch conspiracy theories, and things like Ancient Aliens. And I watched all the big Science Fiction shows too. Until the night I watched another episode of Ancient Aliens, and I heard that guy from Battlestar Galactica: RAZOR, the movie, declare, “This has all happened before. It will all happen again.”

    That’s when my brain cells went crazy, and came up with ridiculous idea. One of those ideas, where you wake up the next morning, look in the mirror, shake your head, and tell yourself, “You have lost your mind!” But your brain cells stop you, and instead, you mumble to yourself, “I think maybe you’re right.”

    It was that night, over twenty years ago, that changed the direction of my life.

    Almost immediately, I started thinking, “Wouldn’t this explain all the things we can’t explain? Like, who built the Great Pyramid, or Göbekli Tepe? The idea that we humans were repeating history, repeating ourselves, took hold of me, and never let go.

    It cost me everything. My house, wife, children, job, career. Everything. Would you like to hear the story? What happened, and the truth I learned? Then, let me start with that night.

    226 Words

  2. Things didn’t get better after we kissed, but they didn’t get worse, either. They did, however, get more frustrating.

    Though large, my bunker wasn’t intended for more than just me, and no matter how often we went up for fresh air, the claustrophobia never let up. After a few days of running tests on Nate and watching surveillance footage, my safe place began feeling like a prison. 

    “How much more do you think you’ll learn from those tests?” Nate’s arm should have developed a bruise from how many times I’ve had to draw blood from the same spot, but every time I removed the needle, it was like nothing happened. No matter how many times I did it, that would never not freak me out.

    “I just want to make sure you’re not developing any issues.”

    “It’s not like we could fix them, so why bother?” His irritability came and went, and I wondered if it was a side-effect of the serum. Nate’s mood never changed this often or sharply before. But I wasn’t equipped to examine his brain. “I think-”

    “Maybe you’re right, and these tests are pointless.” I sighed, sealing the latest sample.”But I want to know I’ve done everything I can.”


    “And it’s not like we have anything better to do.” We couldn’t leave until I was sure my father wasn’t looking for us anymore, and just that morning I caught one of his goons in the footage from my first safe house. “So sit tight.”

    250 WIP serial words

  3. Re-Memory

    “I remember the time when you could simply look out the window and get a read on the weather. You must remember that, Emmie?”

    I glance at her. I’m sure she’s listening. Somewhere in that beautiful mind that she once had, there must be a smidgen of recall. That first spring, our first time, that must be percolating.

    It must.

    Memories linger.

    That’s the way it is for me.

    Ah, I was as footloose then as man could be. A cross-country hiker. It was all the rage that year. World travel had come to a standstill. Special permits required to drive, to buy gas…something needed to shift.


    Serious walking.

    They pounded the message into us.


    “HOOF IT.”

    And we did.

    I did.

    That spring, I ambled into her valley. Just passing thru. Needed a break from the Interstate. I needed green. Walked right by her lush front yard. And there she was, pruning her apple tree.

    “What’re you looking at?” She’d asked.

    “I know exactly what I am looking at. You, my apple princess! You!”

    Well, that bit of hokum garnered a quick smile and an invitation to lunch on the porch.

    And a lifetime.

    That was then.

    I take her face in my hands. “I think maybe you’re right,” I answer her silent response, the one I know she would say if she could. “We could look out and see the sky…when it was blue. Before the heavens turned forever blood-red.”

    250 words


  4. I always thought you’d kinda know, in the back of your mind, if you’d gone insane. But now I don’t know … Everyone tells me I’ve lost my marbles. Scary thing is I’m almost starting to believe them.

    I don’t remember doing it.
    I do remember being the only one there … alone … I thought I was alone.

    I’ve never even dreamed of doing something like this. But you tell me I did. I think maybe you’re right. No, I’m afraid you’re right.

    What if you’re right?
    The evidence points to me.
    I’ve always said facts over feelings:
    Yet I feel …
    No, I must be insane.
    I must be …

    But there’s this nagging feeling at the back of my mind screaming that everyone is lying to me. Especially you.

    And know I don’t hear voices. That’s my instincts screaming. I think.

    But what if I am hearing voices?
    What if my instincts are dead?

    Can a mad woman rationalize her own insanity?
    Can a sane woman trust her best friends and family when they they say she isn’t “all there”?

    Fine. I’ll submit myself to the ward.
    I want to trust you just as much as I desire my mind to be whole.

    More than the idea of being crazy, I fear that maybe I’m the only sane one and that you lied to me. But I’m willing to be locked away forever to trust you.

    Is this how innocent people become imprisoned?

    I believe so …

    Or maybe I’m not innocent …

    249 words by @KeturahAbigail

  5. I stared through the window at the generic motel parking lot. It was late. Nothing moved out there. I’d taken a huge chance, gambling everything on what he would say next.

    “This isn’t a good idea.”

    But it so was. I didn’t want to walk outside, get into my car and just…drive away. I held my breath, hoping he’d change his mind. Glancing over my shoulder, I caught his gaze. He studied me with unsettling intensity. I lost my nerve. This was so not a good idea.

    “I think maybe you’re right,” I mumbled.

    “Just maybe?” I lost his eyes as he studied his boots, mouth grim, brows scrunched together, hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans. His whole body was all but vibrating with…what? Anger? Need? When he raised his head, I stumbled backwards. The red glints in the depths of his eyes set my pulse racing. I wasn’t afraid, I was terrified.

    “W-wizard?” I got his name out in a mere whisper. He stalked toward me. I knew how a kitten felt when facing a wolf, except I had neither teeth nor claws.

    “Should’ve stayed away, Jen. Should’ve never come back.”

    I gulped, amazed I could even do that. If my body hadn’t been locked in fear, I would be huddled in the corner shaking like that proverbial leaf.

    “Wh-what are you going to do?” I managed to form words despite my dry mouth.

    “Claim you.”

    My life had changed forever—for better or worse.
    250 Nightrider WIP words

  6. I waited in the quiet apartment, both pathetically grateful for a place to hide and worried about Davis’ reaction when he found me here. Day faded into twilight, deepening into night before a key turned in the deadbolt. The security system beeped a warning, quickly silenced with the disarm code.

    “You didn’t answer my calls.” Davis locked the door behind him. And rearmed the security. My pulse jumped up a notch. He didn’t acknowledge me further, crouched in the shadowed cornered of his living room farthest from the door, but moved to the dry bar and poured himself a drink. “Or my messages.”

    “Phones can be tracked.” And didn’t that sound all sane and rational? My hands shook as they curled around the edges of my sleeves.

    “I was worried.” Sipping his drink, he softly asked, “But you’re okay?”

    “I’m fine.” Every inch of me ached, but I didn’t mention that part. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

    “You should always come to me.”

    “So you can talk some sense into me? You don’t believe me. I think maybe—”

    “You’re right to give me hell.” He stared out the window to the street below. A frown tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I’m sorry.”

    “You don’t need my troubles.” I couldn’t see what he was looking at from here and my feet didn’t care to fix that. “Real or imagined.”

    “Oh, they’re real.” His gaze flickered toward me. “And currently entering the building in two-by-two formation to find you.”

    250 #WIP365 #noideawherethisisgoing words

  7. “I think maybe you’re right,” Julia said, finally. I had almost given up trying to convince her that our alien captors were as afraid of us as we were of them. But honestly I didn’t know what they were thinking. Or planning.

    “Great. Now can you work on that spell that gets us out of here?”

    Julia looked through her backpack searching for what I hoped would be a vial of magic or something. Instead, she pulled out a bag of peanuts.

    “What?” Julia looked at me, a smile crossing her lips. “I can’t do magic when I’m hungry.”

    Two alien guards appeared. They didn’t look as menacing as they did curious.

    Julia ate a handful of nuts and waved her hand. In what seemed like an instant we were out of the alien prison and in a clearing.

    “I hope you remember where we left our ship, Lindy.”

    I wasn’t sure I did remember. “Don’t you have a spell for that?”

    Julia looked even more beautiful with her eyes glistening. “I think you’re going to owe me. Magic doesn’t come without a price, you know.”

    I knew that look. I imagined I knew what she had in mind but I dismissed those thoughts. This wasn’t the time for flirting. Julia made her words sound playful but I could tell she was worried.

    And so was I.

    227 Words

  8. “What’s wrong, Haley?” Michael paused, his bulk filling the pass-through behind me.

    “The door’s open.”

    He frowned. “Did you leave your door unlocked?”

    “Never.” I wanted to step in to see what all had happened, but I couldn’t make my feet move.

    “Let me go inside and check first.” He slid past me and I’d never be sure how he fit between me and the door jamb as big as he was.

    I swallowed back fear and nodded, but I didn’t want to stay outside alone. So I followed him and closed the door behind me, locking the deadbolt. I let my gaze skim the room and all my breath left my chest in a hurry.

    The room didn’t look much different than when I’d left, but my laptop, the external hard drive that had been on the desk, and my Kindle was missing. What the hell do they need the Kindle for? I shook my head. I hope they like spicy romance with angels and demons.

    “Someone’s been in here.” Michael reappeared in my living room, his expression verging on angry. “You should pack some things and come back with me to the compound.”

    “I can’t just hide. I have a job.” But I didn’t sound convinced even to myself. “Do you think this’s more than just a random break-in?”

    “Someone’s very interested in your communication devices and could be looking for you, that’s what I think.”

    “Maybe you’re right.” I bit my lip. “Help me pack.”

    250 ineligible #WIP365 #CockyBiker words

  9. Eleven-year-old Cara and eight-year-old Maria had learned what to do when the noise got like this. Like little cat burglars, they padded toward the door and closed it carefully and silently behind them.

    Their mother, Sandra, got back to her feet and said, “Josh, that’s the last time you ever will knock me down. And I’m not going to watch you sit in the dark and scream at the slightest giggle from the girls anymore.”

    She kept out of her husband’s reach as he struggled to his chair in the darkened den. It had gotten easier in the past weeks, but when he did connect, it was like being clubbed.

    “I’m not going to tell you again, Sandy,” said Josh, a former NFL defensive tackle, “You’ve got to get those girls under control or I will. You know there’s nothing to make these headaches even marginally passable, other than maybe, MAYBE, that damn medication. And I won’t live like a zombie, just waiting around to die. Is that what you want, bitch?” He started to get up again.

    Moving to the door, Sandra said over her aching shoulder, “I think maybe you’re right, you won’t have to tell me again. If you don’t like taking that medicine, then remember that little gift you gave me for protection when you were on the road? It’s in the nightstand drawer. If you love us, why don’t you take it somewhere and…you know…finally protect us?”

    248 words

  10. The bathers sat together, letting the waters rise around them. Enid was to the rear of the group and the sand was barely covered where she was. Famke was the one furthest out from the beach and the waves were beginning to buffet her, threatening to push her over. Paige was between Famke and Ursula, the sea covering the swelling of her stomach. She’d raised her hands and was shading her eyes, looking out to the horizon.

    “When do you think we should go back?” Ursula’s voice was tight, her tone suggesting she’d had enough. She’d been the last one to agree to come here. She was still wearing her swimsuit too.

    “It ought to be Famke who decides. She’ll be the first one to drown.” Enid was still amused. She was the nearest to the drier part of the beach. She was also the closest to the warm towels and the shelter of the cabin.

    “I think maybe you’re right. Both her and Paige are definitely in competition. We’re all supposed to be equals as Sisters of the Wave but those two are definitely vying for top placing.” Ursula shivered, looking back over her shoulder. “I don’t care which one wins, just so long as they settle it soon.”

    Enid shrugged. She looked forward past Ursula and Paige, seeing nothing but empty sea. There’d been rumours of sharks coming in close to the shore, but they’d have seen a fin if there been any nearby.

    “Where’s Famke?” she asked.

    250 words ~ twothirdsrasta.blogspot.com

  11. Sleeping through my alarm, I missed the first bus which seemed to have been in an accident at the corner. The replacement bus stopped then closed its doors before I could get on. I swore under my breath. The bus wasn’t even full, but she ignored me and drove on by. Nothing new! This happened before. Putting my arm up as a cab neared me; the cab too ignored me as if they didn’t see me. Stupid cabby!!
    I decided to walk the half an hour to work. My heels were annoying usually to walk in but today they were like walking on air. I guessed that these new pair that was so expensive was worth every penny. At least it wasn’t rainy I thought as I started to increase m pace. I couldn’t be late. If I was late again I was warned I’d be fired and I needed my job as a barista at Starbucks.
    I arrived at work and my co-workers were whispering and crying.
    “What’s going on,” I asked.
    “You’re dead! The bus ran you over,” Melanie answered horrified.

    I glanced down at my clothes and saw torn bloodied dress. When I looked at my hands one of them was crushed
    “I think maybe you’re right, it sure explains a lot. But where do I go?”
    “Go into the light. See it is right there,” Melanie whispered.
    I saw the circle and stepped through into encompassing light and love. “Thank you, Melanie,” were my last words.
    250 words

  12. Dear Universe,

    I think maybe…

    Maybe I’m sick and tired of playing this game. Of fighting this never-ending war. What good is really going to come out of all this bloodshed? There’s no new dawn that’s going to break the horizon and shed light where darkness had made home. The storm clouds are never going to part. I’m wasting my time flailing through these daily battles when I could finish this war once and for all instead.

    I think tonight is finally that night.

    The night I end this war. The breath of relief that expands my lungs at that thought is enough to over joy me. The kind of stress-free joy I haven’t felt in ages. I’m giddy with it. My cheeks hurt from the smile the idea elicits. I don’t feel so heavy now that I’ve made up my mind. It’s like the chains have vanished. Poof. Just like that.

    No more grief from the futility of this war.

    No more storm clouds and darkened skies.

    No more sleepless nights from fighting.

    No more wounds to bandage.

    No more skipped meals because I’m chasing down demons.

    No more…nothing.

    I think maybe you’re right, Universe. I think maybe I should have listened to your lone whisper of peace long ago now. I think…


    I know it’s time to end this war. Tonight. With just one last sit in the bath, and one last kiss of blade on skin. Tonight…

    I’ll finally be free.


    245 #possibleWiP #maybeCampNaNo words

  13. The bright flash of a cigarette burns briefly as Louis takes one last, long drag. Throwing the smoking butt to the ground, he grinds his heel over it, making sure no fire is left.

    “Okay, let’s do this.”

    Dom lets out a huff of breath, “it’s about time,” he mutters as he swings into step beside Louis.

    “I think you need to let me take the lead on this one, Louis.”

    “Maybe you need to cool your jets.”

    “But, Louis . . .”

    “Shut up, Dom. Listen.”

    Both men stand still as the wind blows snippets of conversation at them.

    “repo idiots. . .”

    “. . . car . . .”

    “Louis, I think they’re talking about us.”

    Not even giving Dom’s observation an answer, Louis holds up his hand for quiet.

    “I think I can handle this one, Louis,” Dom’s coarse whisper cuts through the wind, earning him a quieting glare.

    More snippets move past the men.

    “kill them . . .”

    “. . . bomb”

    Then the tinkle of laughter floats past.

    “Louis, I think . . .”

    “Maybe you’re right, Dom. You should take the lead.”

    189 words

  14. Last night, shooting pictures in my grandparent’s cemetery, someone was definitely there. I’m not much for imaginary things, but it appears a woman holding…a scythe was there? What the hell? I didn’t see anyone last night. Besides, ghosts don’t exist.

    “I think maybe you’re right.”

    I scream. A woman stands near my bed, exactly like the one in the picture. One hand on my heaving chest I stare at her, speechless.

    “About the ghosts I mean. Touchy subject in the Death world, ghosts.”

    My mouth vomits forth a series of mutters and mumbles before I get actual words out.

    “Who the fuck are you?”

    She smiles, sticking out a thick, calloused hand. “Carla. Second Assistant Death. Pleasure to meet you, Eliza.”

    That hand is as solid as my own. She sits on my bed and smiles, crossing her ankles. Her robes catch the sun coming through the window and I blink away the floaters.

    “Sorry about the photobomb. You’ve been ignoring my previous attempts to communicate. Anyway, I’m going recruit you to work for me. The pay is good, flexible hours, no more office desk job, cool?”

    Nothing makes sense right now. Second Assistant Death? Recruitment? I’m so confused. She stands, holding a purple sparkling scythe.

    “Uhm, sure?” My brain turns to mush when she walks through my wall.

    “Great! See you in a couple weeks!”

    How did she walk through that wall? I rub my head and wonder if I’m dreaming or if I’ve gone completely insane. Oy.

    249 words

  15. “That was a complete waste of time.” Bezedora’s mechanical voice rose from her barrel chest through her face plate.

    The viewing pool had become clouded. Natazla slouched off kilter next to it, twirling a finger in her raven dark hair and putting her pouty lips to good use.

    “I think maybe you’re right.”

    “We are in agreement.” The corpulent Hawkins hummed, drumming his steepled fingertips. “Nothing in that alternity was of use to us.”

    Their ash hued host, Malain, simply smiled and traced her fingers over her ichor stained kris. Noticing Malain’s silence, Natazla sat upright and crossed her arms petulantly.

    “Well? It was useless, wasn’t it? You even died in that reality!”

    “Did I?” Malain laughed.

    “We all saw you explode,” Hawkins scratched his protruding belly. “In our professional experience, that does tend to be fatal.”

    “I only saw the room I was in explode,” Malain pressed her thumb against the tip of her blade and watched her blood follow the contours toward the hilt. “We all know dozens of ways to survive that.”

    Bezedora made a performative throat clearing sound. Natazla put a hand reassuringly on the war machine’s shoulder.

    “Well, most of us.” Malain amended.

    “Meatbag magic users…” Bezedora grumbled.

    “So then, do you intend to use your plan from that alternity?” Hawkins enquired.

    “Hardly. That world is not this one. My interest is in the fundamental commonalities, and those seem to be lining up very nicely.”

    240 ineligible words

  16. #ThursThreads Week 358 is now CLOSED. Thanks to everyone who wrote this week and I hope to catch you next week. 🙂

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