Welcome back to the home of Weird, Wild, & Wicked Tales. Today is Thursday and that means it’s time to start flashing. We’ve reached our Seventh year of weekly prompts! This is Week 365 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 365:
Artists’ personal house cleaner and flash fiction author, Keturah Lamb.
And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.
“That’d be no fun.”
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!
20 Replies to “#ThursThreads – Tying Tales Together – Week 365”
“So you need me to get this book for you?” It sounds too easy. So easy, in fact, he should be able to do it himself. “And you can’t do it yourself because…?”
“What part of ‘it’s protected from me’ don’t you get?” Death crosses his arms, looking at me like I’m an idiot.
“The part where I’m supposed to wrap my head around a book that keeps people alive. Obviously.” I lean back on the bench, watching as people file in and out of the building across the street.
“It’s pretty simple. I have lots of books – each one covering a different place. Keeping track of the histories that come and go. The one that corresponds to this place is in that building – warded against me – and without it, I can’t keep track of the histories. Can’t move these people’s lives forward, toward their inevitable end.”
“So it’s like a book you’re writing?”
“So none of these people can die?”
“Including me? Because I’m here?”
“Is that so bad?” The thought is a bit thrilling, and though we have an understanding, I have half a mind to just not comply.
“There are worse things than death.” There’s an edge to his voice. “Imagine the world dying around this town, all of you trapped, unable to leave because of that book. That’d be no fun, would it?”
“You never intended to let me go, did you?” Of course I’d be trapped here. Of course.
250 WIP words
He’s not too bad a guy. He has feelings as deep, sore and soaring as anyone else’s, I guess. Maybe even more so, we just don’t know. Few have ever seen them as he moved through the vacuum of his days.
I once caught him in one of his brooding moods, the ones maybe you’ve seen or you’ve felt. He broke through the 1,000-mile stare and wall of his self-imposed isolation to look up at me, half-grinned and raised his chin in greeting. He hummed his shrugged-shouldered humph when I inquired how he was.
“So how you doing?”
“I’m doing. Wondering if all this is worth it.”
“All what?” I asked.
“Just doing, being, thinking. You know, like that Descartes guy said, ‘I think, therefore I am.’ Maybe I should just stop thinking so much.”
“That’d be no fun.”
Then he surprised me with, “I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for? You haven’t done anything to me,” I said.
“I’m sorry because I’ve never expressed to anyone my regrets for my sins and omissions, never cried at their funerals, never spoke up about how I truly felt, never professed my love to those I should have and never moved on from the ones I shouldn’t,” he said.
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked.
“Because you’re the only one I can and that’s what I lament the most,” he said as we each turned away from the mirror and switched off our bathroom light.
249 introspective words
Sun Trap – By Mason Bushell
“Now, the murderer’s caught, what’d you say to, no more, mysteries, for us,” Samuel said reclining beside Holly in the sun.
“Aww, sweetheart, that’d be no fun.”
“No, but at least, you’d be safe.” Samuel kissed her. It was then her phone rang. He watched her answer it and listen. “What is it?”
“He broke free, he’s hunting us.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll get him, before he gets you, precious.”
“I know.” She smiled.
“Confident git, aren’t you?” said a voice.
Samuel heard a shotgun cocking and looked into the cold, hard features of the murderer.
“I’m a protective footballer, what do you expect,” he said.
“I expect, you to die.”
“Really, ‘you think we’d lie here in the sun, knowing you were on the loose?”
“Doesn’t matter, you’re both dead.” the murder aimed for Samuel.
“That’d be no fun.” Holly giggled.
“Criminals can be so silly.” Holly stood up brushing sand from her legs.
“Don’t move, and start speaking.”
“For a start, you didn’t come to this beach for us, did you? We’re a bonus.”
“You killed the boys for the loot, right?”
“This loot.” Holly brushed her toes through the sand, revealing a box.
“Clever girl.” The murderer snapped up his gun. Samuel lunged and punching him in the nose. He staggered into a band of police officers.
“Thanks, Holly, your trap worked well. We’ll take him, from here.”
“You’re welcome, boys.” Holly faced and kissed Samuel. “Now we can relax,” she said.
250 words @MBWorkhouse Twitter and Facebook
The Big Sleep-Deprived
It was Thursday morning. Rain was thundering down like the sky had burst a pipe. The city was drenched.
I’d spent the night on the office couch.
Maybe I knew someone would be wanting my services before the cock crowed.
Okay, you got me. That’s a metaphor.
My city ain’t got no chickens.
Just little birds who are always getting their feathers plucked.
That’s where I come in.
My name’s Hap Nikcep.
I’m a Dick.
Proud of it.
I specialize in corralling lost fowl.
Of the human variety, if you missed my gist.
The ratatatat woke me at 5:35.
I sleepwalked to the door, gave it a tug.
He was a sorrowful bundle of aging mankind.
I let him in, told him to have a seat while I abluted.
“Huh?” he said.
“And jiffy up some java,” I added. “Want some?”
“It’s about my granddaughter,” he segued like a train wreck.
“What about her?” I asked as I scooped coffee into the machine.
“She’s throwing her life away. Run off with a stand-up comic. I want you to bring her back.”
While the coffee brewed, I splashed aqua on my mug and ran my finger comb through my thinning locks.
“This comic,” I asked, “He any good?”
“Thinks he is. I don’t.”
“Then that’d be no fun,” I said. “I only chase after humorous comics.”
“Huh?” he answered, like my patter was deep.
“Sorry,” I said. “Give me the skinny.”
Thursday, I thought.
You get all kinds.
250 hard-boiled yeggs
I cleared my throat. “I’m gonna go change into these.”
I nodded and skittered back to the bedroom. It was a relief to get out of the party dress and I considered just throwing it away. While it had been an expensive purchase, the memories of what happened weren’t the best and I’d just as soon not be reminded. Yeah, that’d be no fun. I dumped the dress into a pile on the floor as I slipped into the T-shirt and sweats. They settled over my body with a soft caress and I sighed with relief.
I used the bathroom to check out my reflection and hoped Michael was in a charitable mood. I looked like I’d spent some time in a wind-tunnel. I’d heard the “wind blown” look is sexy, but I didn’t think I’d qualify for that particular adjective. I appeared more dazed and confused than sexy.
Shaking my head, I returned to the living room. Michael still hadn’t gotten dressed, which was a good thing, and Luke had arrived with breakfast, another good thing. The breakfast, not Luke, though he was pretty damn fine to look at, too.
“Good morning, Haley. Sleep well?” Luke raised a suggestive eyebrow but I just shrugged and nodded.
“Need my coffee.” I reached for my neglected mug and Michael’s hand brushed mine as he handed it to me. “Thanks.” I tried to ignore the tingle of excitement from the contact, but his divine beauty rocked my world.
247 ineligible #CockyBikers words
Dreams and Schemes
I dragged myself out of the nightmare and lay flat on my back in a cold sweat, still shaking.
“That was an extremely brutal one.”
“I know, wasn’t it great? All except for the message you snuck in.”
Was I still dreaming? I didn’t think so; my eyes registered my room behind the two talking. What the hell was going on and who were these guys. I tried to speak or sit up, but I was frozen.
“Had to, you know the rules. Why don’t you give this one a break?” the bright white one said.
The other was dark, shifting constantly from a blood red to the blackest of blacks, sometimes a smoky, sooty, nasty gray. “That’d be no fun, besides the boss wants this one.”
“Not gonna happen, I’m here to make sure of that.”
Anger poured out, “He’s nearly there now. He’s walked away from your kind.”
“After what you put him through, he’s just healing.”
“She was so easy to turn, I did it so gradually. Frankly, she’s my masterpiece. She’s still yanking his chain. I’ll get him.”
His laughter made my skin crawl.
“His name’s in the book. We’ll work it together for his good.”
“Book, schmook. I’ll get him.”
Softly spoken, “You know we win in the end.”
Rage poured off the dark one. “Don’t go talking about the end to me. It’s a fairy tale.” Then he disappeared.
The other turned to me. “Go back to sleep, he won’t bother you again tonight.”
The sky is filled with irds, the size of which I’ve never seen. Wings stretch wider than any bird I can name. Aiming my camera skyward, I click the shutter. Holy shit!
I run into the house, thrusting the camera in her face. Startled, she grabs the strap and holds it back, looking over her glasses. Finally, she hands it back with a shrug. Steam rises from a pan on the stove and the oven beeps that it’s at temperature.
“Turkey vulture, normal for this time of year. Probably a deer or something on the side of the road. What of it?”
Shaking my head, I hit the zoom button and show her again. She examines the picture, again returning it to me with a shrug. I take the camera back as she reaches for the Tupperware container of soda crackers.
“Don’t you see? That’s a human!” I say, not sure I believe my own eyes. “That’s not a turkey vulture.”
She goes back to mixing the meatloaf, cracking an egg with one hand. “It’s a turkey vulture. Now, why don’t you go help you Dad mow the lawn?”
“Because that’d be no fun,” I grumble under my breath.
She makes a shooing motion before plunging her hands back into the meat mixture. Sighing, I walk back to the yard, spotting Dad near the garage. Looking up, the human is gone. Maybe it was a turkey vulture. After all humans can’t fly. Can they?
245 words (WIP)
Er, that first line should be filled with BIRDS, not irds, lol!
The River Runs Dry
I remember that rainy, grey, Nashville day. I looked out the window as he crossed the street, wearing his trademark, leather overcoat and hat, carrying his guitar case.
I heard a knock and he let himself in.
“Laura . . . you up there?”
“John? Is that you? Come on up . . .
. . . Hey Stranger! Do you remember you said you’d teach me your favorite, but way sad chord progression . . . does the offer still stand?”
“Sure, but I warned you it’s gonna make you cry. That’d be no fun!”
“No worries! I need sad, my river of songs ran dry. I’ve written something, but that chord progression . . . let’s see if it works.”
“What’s the song called?”
“Never Find Love Again.”
“Whoa! We are talkin sad!”
John grabbed his guitar, tuning it briefly, and then handed me a scrap of paper with the chords written down
“It’s pretty easy but the key chord is barred, Bb#11.” John whispered. He played an 8 bar version for her.
“Oh man! That is beautiful . . . but you know me and bar chords!”
“Here Darlin, let me help you.”
John handed me his guitar, moving behind me, wrapping his arms around me.
His hands guided mine over the strings to play the dark, rich chords that resonated in my heart.
I sat the guitar down, turning, still in his arms. He kissed the tear on my cheek.
“Ya know lyrics are meant to be rewritten.”
“uh huh” I whispered, pressing my body against his.
@taforu Word count: 250
“What did you do with the ship, Jules?”
I looked down over the edge the mountain fearing the worst.
“C’mon Lindy. You don’t actually think I moved it. The ship is exactly where we left it.”
I didn’t see anything resembling a spaceship.
Julia was grinning.
“It’s a magical ward, Lindy. The ship is here but it can’t be seen or touched. Well actually it can be but anyone approaching it will only get a tingling that will cause them to turn around and leave.”
I thought I knew everything about her magic but I hadn’t ever seen this kind of ward.
“An invisibility ward,” Julia said, seeing my confusion.
“Why can’t you ever use ordinary magic, Jules?” I said, not really knowing if there were such a thing.
“That’d be no fun.”
“Well, it seems like a lot of trouble hiding a spaceship on a planet our sensors tell us is uninhabited.”
“And what if the sensors are wrong and there are aliens here?”
I looked behind me as if to reassure myself. “If that’s the case, they wouldn’t be the aliens. We would.”
“Can we just get out of here?” Julia lifted the ward with an almost subliminal thought and the spaceship came into view.
“Why are you suddenly so anxious to …?”
Julia stopped me and drew her weapon.
“Is there really a pool on the roof?” I asked.
“Mhm.” Davis nodded lazily, attention on the wine bottle he was uncorking. “You can go up whenever.”
“Nah, that’d be no fun by myself.” I watched Davis’ practiced movements as he cut away the foil surrounding the cork. “I was just curious.”
“So—would it be fun with a friend?”
“I don’t have any friends.”
“What am I?”
I looked up, meeting his gaze.
“I think I’ve been pretty damned friendly.” One dark brow arched upward. “No? I haven’t proven myself?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” I snorted. “You know you’re more than—”
Some belated sense of self-preservation shut me up.
“More than?” Davis smiled at me. The sort of smile that made my skin tingle. I shivered, and something in his expression changed. Turned sharp and hot and dangerous all at once. He pushed the wine bottle aside and paced toward me. “I like more than.”
I backed up a step and he stopped.
“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath, squeezing my eyes shut. “Stop acting like prey, Pandora.”
“Are you scared, Trouble?” he asked. “Or excited?”
“I—um—both. Definitely both.” Shit. My cheeks flamed. Did I really have no internal filter? No precious smidgen of sense?
“Then don’t stop.”
The words warmed my ear and my eyes flew open. Davis loomed close. Too close? Not close enough?
“Please don’t.” The last measurable space between us vanished as his fingers skimmed my waist. “Let me chase you.”
250 #WIP365 words
“I don’t want to do it. I can’t. This isn’t helping my situation. I’m going to get down. I’ll see you at the bottom.” Min peered over the edge of the rock into the water below.
“Aww. That’d be no fun. It’s a lot more fun to take the fast route.” Her companion chuckled while he swung his arms back and forth.”
“I like living. That landing can’t be good for a person.”
“Don’t go head first and you’ll be okay.”
She scowled. “Says the guy who can sprout wings and float down.”
Sebastian pouted, or attempted to, before he laughed at her. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“Bullshit. You have and you would.”
“I’m trying to help you with your phobia.”
“Because nothing beats dealing with heights than jumping from a high cliff.” She crossed her arms. “Not doing it. Can’t make me. You have fun.” She waved and turned to go back to the pathway. Nope, nope. ALL THE NOPES.
She should have known better. She DID know better. But she was distracted by scary view. There was the rustle of leather before she was grabbed from behind and she felt her feet lift the ground. Min gave a quick glance down before shutting her eyes tight.
She screamed. “I’m going to kill you. You are so dead.”
“Hmmm…. okay.” Sebastian chuckled and let her go. She gave a scream as she fell, splashing into the water a few feet below her.
She pushed her hand into his chest and rummaged about. She found something there that was still throbbing, pulled it out and inspected it. “You’re not quite dead,” she told him, squeezing his heart to stop it. “A few more minutes and you’ll be beyond help though. But you can enjoy seeing your life flashing before your eyes while you wait. I’ve heard it can be quite entertaining.”
The man slid down the wall, leaving a trail of blood behind. His eyes closed and his mouth fell open.
“You could have just stunned him. He wouldn’t have regained consciousness for hours. We’d have been in the next county before anyone noticed he was missing.” The man with the clipboard initialled the form and tore the top copy away, leaving it beside the small pile of bloodied lumps. He clicked the tip of his pen away and tucked it inside his inner pocket, scowling greyly.
“That’d be no fun.” Brigitte arched herself forward, trying to read her mark. The paper was upside down from her direction but she’d no difficulty reading the ‘B minus’ he’d written. “And that’s a bit mean too,” she said, challenging him. “You’ll be hard pushed to find a more effective take-down. Not even from a fifth-year student.”
The examiner sniffed. “You lack finesse. A stiletto would have been just as effective. And the gloating was in bad taste. Maybe you should reconsider your vocation; butchery might be a better fit for you than being a bodyguard.”
250 blood stains ~ twothirdsrasta.blogspot.com
Joe knew how to fly. His daddy had zoomed his infant son through the air, a sure-fire tactic to transform cries into peals of laughter.
On his fifth birthday, his uncle gave him a bicycle, and Joe discovered the joy of the wind in his hair. He spent every available hour outside burning around the cul-de-sac. It wasn’t long before the training wheels came off and Joe was in search of bigger thrills.
Bike tricks, wheelies, and stoppies were followed by plywood ramps. An upgrade to a motorbike provided powered flights into big air. There were crashes that demanded trips to the hospital where he collected plaster casts, splints, and stitches. He wore bruises with pride, badges of courage and testimony of a new skill attempted and mastered.
“Why can’t you keep your wheels on the ground?” his mother asked.
“Well, that’d be no fun,” Joe answered with a smile and a wink.
“I love the acceleration, the sensation of a rocket launch into space. Each jump lets me leave this world for a while. Time slows as the bike and I float in thin air. For a split-second, everything stops. The world’s demands fall away, and I am free.” Joe paused, eyes closed, joy painted his face and touched his mother’s heart.
“Pain doesn’t exist, misery is suspended, and life has meaning. Then I’m free falling. I return to earth knowing I bring a piece of that feeling with me.”
His mother ruffled his hair and hugged him tightly.
It was just us and the languid waves on the white sand beach under summer stars. The party had moved inland to the bars and brothels. It was better for Cat to stay away from both until The Good Luck was back underway, so we wandered the water’s edge. Though I hadn’t known her long, I found her familiar as the sea herself. Funny little thing as she was, Cat had saltwater in her veins.
“What’re ye thinking about, Olle?” Cat punched my arm playfully.
I tugged at my beard and sighed. The seaweed that kept tangling in it had to have something to do with my mischievous companion.
“That we’re lucky we were close to port and Captain Hill stopped at dismissing you from the ship. Why’d you take his hat anyway?”
Cat shrugged and kicked the sand with a bare foot.
“It looked better on me. Also, I’m done being a sailor. Tomorrow I’m going to be a captain.”
“HA! And what will you do for a ship?”
I immediately regretted my question and the sharp smile that met it.
“Yer going to help me steal one!” Hopping on my shoulders she pointed out to the navy’s private island off the point. “I hear they just finished a military prototype that ought to be just right!”
I could already see the walls of cannons and rows of riflemen.
“Wouldn’t it be easier to take a merchant vessel from the harbor? And safer?”
“That’d be no fun.”
248 Cat’s The Pajamas words
The first day at my government job so I was happy when my supervisor said he wanted to show me something not too many employees knew about.
“I shouldn’t let you into these secret government files,” Alfred stated.
“That’d be no fun; I’d love to know everything they’ve been hiding.”
“You can’t see everything but maybe I could show you this one file about our parents.”
“You know that vaccine, the one that left them with a huge scar?”
I nodded. I read the file expecting maybe that the manufacturer goofed making the needle too big.
“Pretty wild huh.”
“It says that our parents were imprinted with a DNA scanner tracker that the government can track any citizen that got this. Holy cow everyone should know about this.”
“You can’t tell anyone.”
“But I have to this is big,” I protested.
Just then the big boss came in the room and sounded angry, “Alfred, vaccination are important, if people believe your scam then they won’t vaccinate.” Then turning to me he said, “I have the scar, see Randy?”
“Yes,” I answered.
“Do you think I’d still have one if the government could track me with it?”
“Alfred you are officially on leave. Randy can handle your job until you come back next week.”
Alfred didn’t come back. I’m still on the job and although the vaccination story wasn’t true I could tell you a few stories that could raise your hair but I won’t I love my job.
“What in the hell are you doing?!”
Sage paused only for a second, throwing a glance over her right shoulder at her anxious boyfriend. God forgot to give him a pair of balls, didn’t he? “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m picking the lock.”
“Are you crazy?!”
“Probably.” She shrugged dismissively, listening to the tumblers shift, tongue poking out the side of her mouth.
Markus made a sound akin to a whining cry. “Sage. Come on. We can’t do this. Are there security cameras here? You’re going to get us locked up. My parents will not bail me out!”
“Shh! You keep babbling on that loudly and you are gonna get us caught. Just be quiet and keep lookout.”
Impatient silence fell between them, Markus’ shadow paced back and forth over her crouched frame. She doubted anyone would see them in the back alley, but a thief could never be too careful.
“Sage, seriously, let’s just go home.”
She snorted. “And miss out on joining the underground laser tag game? That’d be no fun.” A distinct click sounded as the deadbolt slide back. Sage grinned and shouldered the door open. “Come on.”
“Nu uh. This is a bad idea. We’re breaking and entering, stealing gear-”
“Borrowing gear,” she corrected. “Come on. I’ve done this like fifty times by now, never once been caught by the police. Just relax. You’re gonna love this.”
Markus hesitated. “You promise we won’t get caught?”
“Right hand to God.”
246 mischief words
Fun With Dinner
Mac smiled when he saw Sharon ‘No Fun’ Jamison enter his restaurant. She was standing at the Hostess Station, and the hostess, Margaret was reviewing the seating chart. Mac slipped in behind Margaret putting a hand on her shoulder. “Give her my table,” he said quietly.
Margaret, for her part, had sensed him as he moved, one of the advantages of having the reflexes of a cat. It meant she wasn’t surprised when he showed up— that would have been bad. It’s hard to explain yourself when you’re hanging from the ceiling by your fingernails and your tail bushed.
“Certainly,” she replied as he marked as she marked the seat. “Would you care to show our guest to her seat?”
Mac smiled. “I would,” he assured her and then gestured for Sharon to follow him.
“Mac Dee?” she called, surprised to see him there— and in a suit no less. “I seem to remember your idea of being dressed up was jeans with only one hole in them.”
Mac chuckled. “We all grow up sometime, I mean, are you still ‘No Fun?’”
“That’d be no.”
“Fun, then. I hope you enjoy your meal.”
Sharon smiled a ‘come hither’ smile. “I’d enjoy it more if I had company…”
Mac’s eyes twinkled devilishly. “Very Fun, perhaps?”
“Indeed we will.”
219 words (not including title)
#ThursThreads Week 365 is now CLOSED. Thanks to everyone who wrote this week and I hope to catch you next week. 🙂