Welcome back to the home of Weird, Wild, & Wicked Tales. Today is Thursday and that means it’s time to start flashing. We’re almost to the end of our eighth year of weekly prompts! This is Week 409 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 409:
Computer geek, bass player, historical reenactor, and flashfiction writer, Mary Decker.
And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.
“Don’t put all your eggs in one basket.”
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!
13 Replies to “#ThursThreads – Tying Tales Together – Week 409”
Physical Distancing-The Poem
“Writing a poem.”
“You’re always writing poems. Why?”
“I like the challenge. Like today’s.”
“What’s today’s challenge?”
“To write a 250-word flash fiction story with Don’t put all your eggs in one basket in it.”
“So, contrarian that you are, you’re gonna write a poem instead of…”
“It’s Flash regardless. Yeah, I thought I’d give ‘er a go.”
“You’re your own drummer, aren’t you? Okay, have at it, poet.”
“I don’t know how many times we have to ask it,
Don’t put all your legs in one basket?
Six feet apart, two meters as well,
What do we have to do so it jells,
None of us want to go to virus hell in your handbasket.”
“Okay. It’s finished. Whaddaya think?”
“Well, it’s a whatchamacallit, eh?”
“Yes, a limerick.”
“Doesn’t scan very well.”
“It’s the first draft.”
“And I don’t see eggs. Legs aren’t eggs.”
“I mentioned eggs in the intro…when we were talking.”
“That probably won’t count.”
“I’ll live with it. Anyways, back to the drawing board. I’ll call you when the final draft is ready.”
“I’m excited beyond measure.”
“How many times do we have to ask it,
Don’t put all your legs in one basket?
Six feet apart, two meters as well,
Any closer and we’ll ring your bell.
You won’t hear it; you’ll be in your casket.”
“Seems a little better.”
“Now will you do your chores?”
“I’ll get right on them.”
Osera barked a laugh. “I wasn’t expecting anyone, but if I’d had a choice, I would’ve picked you.”
Hell yeah, she would’ve picked Theo. He was sexy masculinity personified.
He snorted and rolled them to the side, lifting her like she weighed much less than her hundred and seventy five pounds. Of course, he towered over her 5’10” height by at least a foot and he had the physique to match. She sighed as she brushed herself off. Too bad he didn’t hold her longer.
“I’m sorry I ran into you. Are you all right?” Theo’s rough voice washed over her and made her shiver.
None of the other bear shifters she’d met in her life had ever done that to her with just their voices. What was it about Theo that revved her engines and yet relaxed her?
“Yes, I’m good, thank you. How about you? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
He rumbled a laugh. “No. What are you doing out here alone?”
“Walking.” She shrugged and picked up her top hat that had fallen to the ground. “What about you?”
She laughed. “Would you like to walk with me? It’s a lovely day and I don’t mind the company.”
Maybe he’d walk all the way to her cabin and stay with her. And talk to her. And make love with her. Don’t put all your eggs in one basket. But walking was the first start and hopefully she could convince him to do more.
248 ineligible #WIP365 words
Abby spun around shouting “Don’t put all your eggs in one basket! There’s too much at stake here!”
I had, been the cause of the demise of the circle. Our group of leaders known for their wisdom and strength within our isolated small community. Because of the saying loose lips, I got to witness, first hand, exactly what happens when one divulges what they think is meaningless insignificant detail to ruthless outsiders. But then no one here know exactly who was the perpetrator.
“What do you want me to do Abby? I shouted “And for the record, what EXACTLY is at stake here? Our homes maybe? If not that, what then?”
Abby winced and then said Our homes, our land, hell, even our very lives at stake here, Richie. It not safe at all here because someone is selling out our secrets that we hold dearly to us. Most of all our animal side is at stake, or had you forgotten that you even HAD an animal side? When was the last time you transformed?”
Wincing, I agreed because it had been 10 years, 5 months, 15 days, 12 hours.. since we had last shifted. I wasn’t exactly sure when I had decided to stop transforming.
“Abby, I don’t rightly know when that happened, but I have something important to get off my chest that I need to tell you..”
“Well spit it out already, wouldn’t you?” she screamed at me.
“Well it was my fault…”
“IT WAS YOU….
The gods watch as the young woman collapses, blade protruding from her leg. Claritas winces. Though she’s never felt pain herself, she knows of it and its unpleasantness to humans. Beside her, Tenebrin grins.
“And that, dear sister, is why – to use a human expression – you don’t put all your eggs in one basket.” He gestures at the fallen bard.
“Camilla isn’t a basket, Tenebrin. These are living people.”
Tenebrin shrugs. “People, pawns. However you want to look at them, my statement stands. Aren’t you glad I pulled him in?”
A horned man enters their vision, face distraught at the sight of Camilla’s injury. Though she’s loathe to admit it, her brother is right. Given how terribly the summoning spell went, she was glad to see the bard had someone from their world to guide her. Still, as she watches them, she can’t help but see Valmong as more than just a guide.
He’s a distraction.
Of course, Claritas herself asked Camilla to request Valmong’s help, but she hadn’t anticipated them growing so…attached to each other. It’s still too early to be sure, but she sees the sparks, the care in the way he holds her and tends her wound. The truth hidden beneath his every move and gesture.
Claritas waves the vision away, choosing not to answer her brother’s question.
222 #TeamRPG words
“Please, Reverend, I am begging you. She is my betrothed.”
An aged face wrinkled further in contemplation. “I am well aware she is your betrothed, Bishop. I was to wed you both. However, I have no authority over the town council’s decisions.”
“They have not made final decisions yet. The whispers have not yet reached their ears. There is still time.”
The desperation in Bishop’s tone made his heart hurt in a completely different way from the rest of his suffering practitioners. The Reverend held his gaze. “You are certain this Devil’s pact is not of her own volition?”
“Yes. I simply cannot believe that she would consort with such sin willingly.” Bishop nodded firmly, hope springing into those brown eyes so much like his own.
“And if it happens you’re wrong, you will not ask more of me to save her? You will not ask for her sanctuary. I will not house such sin in my church.” Oh, what irony that was.
“With my right hand up,” Bishop demonstrated, “I will not ask more. Please, try to cast the evil out before she is sentenced to the gallows.”
Heavy silence weighed the pause. “Very well. It cannot happen here. I will come to your home with two of my best. You must make sure she is home and unaware of what will come. And Bishop, don’t put all your eggs in one basket. If she cannot be saved, not even God can protect her from the gallows.”
248 #CampNaNo #WiP #Embermyst #backstory words
“Don’t put all your eggs in one basket.”
“That sounds like advice from the Easter Bunny.”
“Hey, the furry dude has been declared an essential worker.”
“There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”
“Why in hell would anyone want to skin a cat? Speaking of, what’s that saying? Curiosity killed the cat?”
“Preciously. That curious cat got caught and skinned.”
“Well, you know what they say…”
“I have no clue what they say. And who are they anyway?”
“It takes one to know one.”
“This conversation is getting us nowhere.”
“You’re the one who started it.”
“Why don’t you just bite the bullet and call it a day?”
“Because time flies when you’re having fun?”
“I think you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
“Why? Because birds of a feather flock together, you know.”
“No. That’s comparing apples to oranges.”
“Really? I was hoping it would turn into a wild goose chase.”
“Don’t bite off more than you can chew.”
“So, you don’t want me to let that cat out of the bag?”
“The one you tried to skin.”
“You’re skating on thin ice there.”
“Naw. I think I hit the nail on the head.”
“You can’t have your cake and eat it too.”
“I have other fish to fry. Why would I want cake?”
“One of these days, you’ll get a taste of your own medicine.”
“The ball’s in your court.”
“It ain’t over until the fat lady sings.”
248 sleep-deprived words
Coming into the living room I heard from the adjacent kitchen, “Don’t put all your eggs in one basket.”
“She’s still ranting?” I asked my son.
“What do you think she’s so mad about?”
My wife came in saying, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.
“What’s your problem?” my son questioned.
My wife glared, stamped out of the room and my son yelled after her, “Let’s swallow them alive, like the grave, and whole.”
“What are you doing?” I demanded.
“You have to throw her bone every once awhile or she runs out of proverbs,” my son answered.
“You are mean.”
“You refuse to listen when I talk and no one pays attention. Since you do not accept my rebuke, I in turn will laugh when disaster strikes you.” I heard my wife shout.
“Dad I think she’s lost her shit.”
“Happiness is something to do, something to love, something to hope for,” my wife barked.
“I think we should clean up the living room before we drive your mother anymore crazy,” I exclaimed.
A hour later dishes loaded into the dishwasher the floor cleaned and the tables dusted my wife came into the living room. My wife came into the room and began singing, “At last my love has come along.”
I put on the record and we danced to the song as my son made puking noises. Life was back to normal in our household.
Geode floated in free-fall, watching the cruiser fragment. It had taken five hours to come apart, and it seemed that most of the passengers and crew would survive, almost all the lifeboats launching safely. It was to be a merciful escape for them all, the elites and the rich surviving and coming down to earth safely.
“It’s impressive, but it’s still a mission fail.” The voice in his ear seemed disappointed, its tone icy and devoid of emotion. “With a little more planning and expenditure, you could have killed them all. Or you could have overridden the nav-com, plunging their ship into the sun. Or you could have crashed it into a city, killing millions. But you, you just destroyed the ship: well, I’ll give you ten out of ten for effort, but your planning and insight leaves a lot to be desired.”
“I think you may need to reconsider,” Geode said, uploading his strategic simulations to the rebel captain. “Those people have a saying; don’t put all your eggs in one basket. I think you’ll see that that applies here.”
And so, they watched as the lifeboats landed, the airlocks engaged, and the people disembarked, releasing the nanobots that swarmed out into the world. A few more hours and they’d doubled in number, attacking flesh-based and electronic systems, destroying everything man had made.
And the next day, the simulants landed. There was no resistance. There were only raw materials in abundance, waiting to be used.
246 words ~ twothirdsrasta.blogspot.com
Though the sandstone tile crumbled under his feet, Hunter Lee stopped Cat N. Kinnery’s attack with his machete. They exchanged cocksure grins as the pirate girl balanced her entire bodyweight on their blades over Hunter’s head. She dropped passed his guard and rolled to her feet behind him.
He sighed and shook out his arms as he stepped clear of the broken tile.
“You’re not getting the treasure this time, Cat!”
His small rival appraised a gilded egg set with rubies in her hand. Hunter’s hand flew to where his belt pouch had been. Cat was too good.
“You haven’t beaten me yet! Ever hear the expression; don’t put all your eggs in one basket?”
“Aye. What of it?”
The little pirate was already across the chamber! Hunter hurled his boomerang and charged. If he could flank her with the projectile on its return that might make the difference.
“The Magus’ Treasure Eggs only achieve their true value as a set!”
Cat dropped from the ceiling arch with the sapphire and emerald eggs cradled in her arm next to the ruby one. Hunter spun into a machete sweep to force Cat back into rougher terrain and hopefully drop an egg. Instead she advanced and got behind him again.
“Aye, the Professor said as much.”
The little pirate captain tossed Hunter’s hat back to him, grinning over her armful of all five Treasure Eggs! How did he end up with a rival like her?
It just wasn’t fair.
248 Cat’s The Pajamas words
“Vic, the shoot’s got to be done in two hours.” Cindy said. “They’ve already filmed the warthog, the lion, the horse and the tortoise.”
“The director wants to put her cat in, is that going to work?” Steve said, pulling his Nokia 1011 down from his ear.
Vic shook his head, “Fine, whatever, we’ll put it in before the lion, just make it’s gone before the star gets there, we do not want that cat scaring her.”
“Speaking of the star, Vic,” Bob shouted from his corner office, “did you get one picked up yet?”
“Bobby, babe, relax, there’s a place on the way to shoot, I’ll pick one up there.” Vic answered.
“Are you sure?” Bob replied. “Don’t put all your eggs in one basket, Vic. Have a back up plan.”
“All my eggs…in one basket…, Bobby, really? Stick to counting beans, leave the comedy to the professionals.” Vic responded.
“ Vic, you’ve got to go.” Cindy said. “The star needs to be on set in 45 minutes.”
Reaching the farm, Vic looked up at the sign, Johnson Family Rabbit Farm.
Oh..my…God…I needed a chicken, and I got a rabbit? He thought to himself.
He left for the set.
How do I explain this? He thought, as he pulled into the lot.
That’s when the idea hit him.
He walked on set, clucking loudly as he did.
He held up the cage and announced, “Everyone, I give you … the Cadbury Easter Bunny.”
(For the commercial that inspired this, click https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=26WXqzvH4-Q).
Rubbing my face, I sigh. I’m sure I was frustrating to my mother when she trained me, but this child is going to be the death of me. And Easter. Hanging from my daughter’s right arm is a woven basket, green and purple and pink, and stuffed with eggs.
“Don’t put all your eggs in one basket,” I remind her. “Your basket continually replenishes as you go about your deliveries.”
“But this is more efficient!” she protests, thumping repeatedly on the ground.
“Then you get to decide who doesn’t get any eggs.”
Her blue eyes brim with tears for a moment and then she takes a big breath and puffs out her chest.
“Are you sure?”
Shrugging, I match her stare. “Try me.”
These are practice eggs, with no real consequences. She hops forward twice, basket swaying and sure enough the eggs tumble and break, candy spilling everywhere. The tears are brief before she looks in dismay at the ground.
“Being the Easter Bunny is hard.”
I pull her into a hug, as the eggs reassemble in her basket.
“I know. Next year, go with me and then you’ll take over. You’ve got a lot to learn and this was the first lesson. There will be many more. And you’ll make mistakes, too.”
“Okay. Try again?”
She takes half the eggs out and hops forward with success. Maybe I can get through to this kid, I think, as I straighten her ears. She swats me away but she’s smiling.
#ThursThreads Week 409 is now CLOSED. Thanks to everyone who wrote this week and I hope to catch you next week.