#ThursThreads – Tying Tales Together – Week 360

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 360 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 360:

Hard working Children’s RN, with the love of reading to relax, and sports fan, Crystal Brown.

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And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.

The Prompt:

“They had a wicked sense of humor.”

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!

14 Replies to “#ThursThreads – Tying Tales Together – Week 360”

  1. The look on Swift’s face was a combination of disdain and amusement, mostly due to her gawping at him like some country bumpkin. Hell yeah, I’m gawping. He’s a frickin’ centaur. Right there, in front of her, like mythical creatures existed in the real world. So if they exist here, what world am I in?

    She remembered Mack’s smirk when he told her to round up Corporal Swift.

    Either they had a wicked sense of humor and figured she’d fail, or she’d have to use a different tactic. Like feminine wiles. She snorted. I’m pretty sure those got beat out of me during SERE. Although, her CO once suggested she use them to distract her adversaries because they wouldn’t expect a Special Operator to be sexy, feminine, and soft.

    “Wow. You’re taller than I anticipated.”

    Apparently that hadn’t been what he expected her to say because his eyebrows went up and he blinked. “Taller?”

    “Yeah.” She tilted her head. “Are all centaurs vertically bigger than humans or do your people come in a variety of heights?”

    “There’s a variety.” He narrowed his eyes. “I know what you’re doing and it won’t work.”

    “What am I doing?”

    “Trying to establish a rapport to lure me close and strike when I’m least expecting it.” His expression hardened.

    She barked a laugh and grinned. “Buddy, there’s no way in hell I could incapacitate you and drag you back. I’m strong, but not that strong. The only way you’re going back is voluntarily.”

    249 ineligible #NewPlotBunny #WIP365 words

  2. I ignored the three men in the small interrogation room. It wasn’t like TV—no two-way mirror on a wall, no metal chair or table, or handcuffs. Still, unseen eyes watched me. The camera tucked in one corner of the ceiling wasn’t obvious, but I knew it was there.

    The ATF agent attempting to be the good cop spoke. “I’m going to read your rights—”

    “I understood them the first four times.” My voice sounded as hollow and dead as I felt. The law could do its worst and it wouldn’t be as bad as what Wizard had done.

    “Ms. Hall…”

    I closed my eyes, shutting them all out.

    A fist thumped on the Formica table, toppling the bottle of water they’d brought me. I didn’t move.

    “Dammit. You need to tell us about the Nightriders.”

    A strangled laugh exploded from my mouth. I opened my eyes in time to see my interrogators rear back. Pretty sure my crazy emotions were apparent in my brittle smile, I said, “They had a wicked sense of humor.”

    They exchanged uneasy looks. I pushed back from the table and stood. “Are we done here?”

    No one spoke so I shoved out of the corner they’d put me in—physically and emotionally—and headed for the door.

    The ATF guy grabbed my arm as I passed. “Ms. Hall, you need to be careful. They’re criminals.”

    “Tell me something I don’t know.”

    I walked out, ignoring their pity. Life would go on. Somehow.
    249 #TeamNightrider words #NightWishWIP

  3. Wicked by Mason Bushell;

    “Why so many statues, John?” Edward was walking through a garden of long lawns and stunning herbaceous borders. Everywhere he looked he saw marble statues of every creature and historic figure imaginable.
    “They all have different personalities, you see. I began with the two gargoyles. They had a wicked sense of humour.” John led him along a path, through rose borders. Passing a dragon, velociraptor and a Viking, all in gleaming white stone.
    “Personalities, sense of humour? They’re bloody creepy, if you ask me.” Edward steered clear of the dinosaur’s outstretched claws.

    John laughed at the thought, took a left passed yet more statuesque warriors from times past. There he came to a granite bench flanked with those gargoyles. Cartoonish in looks they bared their cloven hooves with humorous smiles.
    “See, how funny these two, look. Wouldn’t you like such a magnificent creature in your garden?”
    “Edward grimaced, “I have enough of a fright whenever my missus is sunbathing in the bloody garden, without something like these in there too.” he reached up and touched a hoof. It was strangely warm, he surmised from the sun. “So, what part of the garden did you need help with?”
    “Oh, I have an area where the plants keep dying. I need your help to find a better fertiliser for it. Come this way.” John turned to walk deeper into the garden. Edward stepped after him, never seeing the gargoyles humour fade to devilish grins, as they reached forth to grab him.

    250 words @MBWorkhouse -twitter and facebook

  4. Looking Back on Donald Trump’s Three Terms-A Reflection

    “I’d like to welcome our guest lecturer, Dr. Havelock Lung, Presidential Historian. They’re all yours, Doc.”

    “Thank you, Grand Furry Rodent. It’s a pleasure to be invited back to the Lodge of the Royal Hoary Marmot. Your work for the preservation of this wonderful creature has been impressive. But I am here this evening to address another perhaps even more fascinating creature. It has been some years since Donald Trump completed his surprizing third four-year term as our President. Many of us of course were flabbergasted that the American voter chose to give him even a second term. Now that was a horse race. But how to explain the oddity of the massive write-in campaign in 2024? And even more, the irony of the elimination of the Electoral College in 2023, an act that permitted a write-in candidate to actually win the Presidency. Even with that remote possibility, one must ask the almost unanswerable question…what possessed millions of American voters to choose this man for an unprecedented third term? Some wags would suggest that they had a wicked…”

    “Sense of humor?”

    “Ah, my heckler friend, I was going to say sense of timing.”

    “Like mine?”

    “Precisely. Can I assume that you…?”

    “You’re darn tootin’, Doc. Donnie got my vote.”

    “Enlighten us, Sir. Why?”

    “Well, Doc. Mostly I think it was because we could. And I was downright curious. Love ‘em or hate ‘em, Trump was always entertaining.”

    “So sad…but painfully, wickedly true.”

    250 extremely frightening words

  5. Bullies.

    I hated them.

    They had a wicked sense of humor that grated on my nerves and morals. I couldn’t tolerate them as a kid or a teen, and certainly not as an adult.

    I still hate them.

    That’s why I chose to do something about them for my career. I didn’t grow up to be some lawyer or doctor, I grew up to be a heroine.

    Well, some would consider me a villain but that’s beside the point.

    It’s not like I’m doing anything /wrong/. I only give the bullies what they deserve. I don’t kidnap or kill them, or even attack them! I just…lure them. I give them a taste of their own medicine once they reach my swampy paradise. A year in the cavern muds is enough to straighten their manners. A little dose of magic helps, too. I let them see the full impact of their name calling, shoving, cyber bashing, and gossiping ways. Perhaps a year is a bit much but what can I say? I like to be thorough with my justice. They’re kids, they can lose a single year. I give them back once they learn their lesson anyways.

    How does that then make me a villain?

    I’m a modern day Pan, just in female version. I’ve heard whisperings that people call me the Nightstalker but I resent that name. I’m simply Piper. I’m the justice seeker for all the victims of the bullies.

    If you hear my song come follow me.


    249 pied piper twisted tune words

  6. Ivy and I edged our way passed the club patrons on the dance floor. Bloodletting was crowded even at 3:00 am. Ivy led the way to a darkened corridor she knew ended at the office Sling used when he was here. The master vampire conducted most of his ‘business’ uptown. He used Bloodletting mainly for the shadier activities.

    “Damn,” Ivy said. “Something’s blocking the door.”

    Ivy pushed open the office door which surprisingly wasn’t locked. Or maybe it was but with Ivy’s vampire strength it opened.

    “Jesus Christ,” I said as I looked inside past Ivy. She bent down to get a better look at the three bodies spread out on the floor. “Who are they?”

    “Vampires. I didn’t know they were involved with Sling’s criminal enterprises.”

    “You knew them?”

    “Yeah. They were actually really sweet guys, Ayren. They had a wicked sense of humor.”

    Vampires with a sense of humor, I thought. Who knew? I didn’t know much about vampire culture. I was was forced to admit to myself that being around them made me uncomfortable. Then again, I had a vampire roommate.

    “Do you think Sling did this?”

    “His henchmen more likely. On Sling’s orders of course.”

    “What’s wrong?” I said. Ivy had her weapon drawn as she pushed me behind her. Shit, she was fast. She looked at me and placed a finger over her lips.

    “They’re coming back.”

    231 Words
    Of my vampire/human roommates WIP.

  7. They had a wicked sense of humor, did the boss, but not the wicked kind where you’d all get together at the pub and have a laugh and how badly they’d gotten you with a prank. No, they wanted to hurt with their humor, and they were good at it.

    No victory could be enjoyed, no defeat succored, not when they were around. They knew every weakness, did the boss. And each joke was like a cut filled with lemon juice, the pain growing, the redness on the cheeks from a miasma of anger and embarrassment. But worst of all was their response to jokes aimed at them. Even the mildest of jocular statements brought the fiercest of responses.

    See, we weren’t people to them, we were tools. And when a tool turns on its master, it gets replaced with one that won’t. And so we got replaced. There was always a line of people willing to work for them, because the darkness…well, the darkness only shone inward. Outwardly, they were the most charismatic, the funniest, the most wonderful of beings, and they were worshiped.

    But that’s the way it is when you work for a god.

    197 words

  8. A rowdy crowd of uniformed types gathered near the hearth, noticeably dampening the mood in the pub.

    “We should go.” Kai’s arm clamped around me, squeezing hard enough to nearly lift me from my feet in his effort to move. “Now.”

    I opened my mouth to protest. He swooped in and nipped my bottom lip, shocking me silent.

    “Damn,” he sighed against my mouth. “That actually worked. Now hurry.”

    We hit the street at a run, not stopping until we made it back to the inn and into our suite with the door barred behind us. He released me and grabbed his pack, rummaging for paper and charcoal, sketching rapidly against his thigh. He held up the finished product, and I immediately recognized the winged monstrosity sigil adorning the uniforms.

    “Who are they?”

    “Lord Hellkite’s private army.”

    “Army?” In a town this size? “That seems excessive.”

    “He can afford it. A fact he happily flaunts.”

    “You’ve run afoul of them before?”

    “When I was a boy.” Kai tugged his shirt over his head and gave me his back, where the insignia marred his right shoulder.

    “What the hell?” I whispered.

    “My mother was Teyla Brand. They gave me this keepsake when Hellkite executed her.”

    “They branded you.”

    “They had a wicked—sense of humor, we’ll say.” He tugged his shirt back on.

    “This isn’t remotely funny.” I pressed my hand over the scar, my fingertips tingling with magic.

    “Don’t take it away.”


    “One day, I promise. Just—not today.”

    250 #TeamRPG #WIP365 words

  9. Every night at nine, my great-great-grandparents pop in for a chat. Kathern and Ralph, have been dead eighty years, but heard I was doing the family tree in my spare time. Ah, the fun of working in the afterlife; no privacy, I swear. Anyway, it’s interesting and unique; no one else gets to talk to their dead family members to find out whom they’re related to.

    I’ve learned a lot about my great-great-grandparents, who died before I was born. It turns out they had a wicked sense of humor. I definitely get my dirty sense of humor from my great-great-grandmother, something my great-great-grandfather doesn’t appreciate. However, my ability to drop into this super deep chest voice and scare the pants off naughty children is from him. I thought I knew what it was to be scared of someone. I was wrong. So, so wrong.

    They’re really cool people, though, incredibly smart. We talk about a lot of other things, too, of course: they’re fascinated by my smart phone and I can’t believe they didn’t live to see television. Katherine never drove a car, Ralph farmed. Foods, hobbies, it’s all so different but fun to learn.

    With five minutes to go before our nightly visit, I make sure my computer is on, the family tree pulled up. Katherine and Ralph will be here soon and tonight we’re doing her side of the family. Apparently, there’s a murderer in the family and Katherine’s bursting to tell me about her.

    247 words

  10. Brandt drags his feet as he walks to school. Head down, his stomach churns as footsteps approach. Holding his breath and trying to make himself invisible, Brandt breathes a sigh of relief as the footsteps walk past.

    Today is the day. Brandt decided yesterday after enduring another barrage of hate-filled comments from bullies on his social media. They had a wicked sense of humor and he’s tired of always having to defend himself. He doesn’t want to do it anymore. If they want to laugh at him, he’ll give them something to laugh about.

    Brandt reaches into his pocket and his heart begins racing at the touch of steel.

    Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Brandt jerks away before realizing the hand belongs to Gerardo, the only student in school who speaks to him.

    “Hey Brandt.”

    Brandt mumbles something and walks toward first period. Waiting until the bell rings, he makes his way to his desk without making eye contact with anyone.

    A student slides a note onto his desk. Looking down at a crude drawing of a stick-figure on a noose and the words, “Kill yourself,” Brandt crumples it up.

    Lunch time. It’s now or never. Just as Brandt reaches into his pocket, Gerardo shoulder-bumps him.

    “Hey Brandt! We still going to the movie tonight? I’ve been looking forward to it all week.”

    Maybe someone would miss him after all.

    Brandt drops the gun back into his pocket and smiles at Gerardo with relief, “Yeah, sure. Thanks!”

    248 words

  11. I had that dream again; maybe two years of therapy wasn’t enough when your firefighter boyfriend dies fighting a fire? I made coffee and breakfast and ate; even though it was 3 a.m. I wouldn’t be getting any more sleep before work. I turned on my computer and did some of the work I’d been contracted to do. Around six a.m. I stared out the window my eyes straying to Greg’s old apartment balcony. I blinked I saw Greg standing there motioning to me with his hands like he had in my dream. Realizing what that motion and knew he wanted me to get a rope ladder. He’d been on me to get it before he died; obviously my subconscious wanted that too.
    Purchasing one that would extend from my third floor balcony at five p.m. I was exhausted. Taking my ladder to the bedroom I fell asleep dreaming again. Greg was shouting at me to wake up and get out. Waking with a start I realized my apartment was full of smoke. My laptop computer had set a fire. Using the rope ladder I escaped.
    The firefighters (friends of Greg’s) told me that if I hadn’t awoken when I did and hadn’t had the ladder I’d be dead. I thought they had a wicked sense of humor but they were serious. I’m thankful somehow Greg moved heaven and earth and saved me. Someday will be together until then I’d live my life to the fullest.
    246 words

  12. #ThursThreads Week 360 is now CLOSED. Thanks to everyone who wrote this week and I hope to catch you next week.

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