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 412 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 412:
Hard working Children’s RN, with the love of reading to relax, and sports fan, Crystal Brown.
And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.
“I should not have come here.”
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!
16 Replies to “#ThursThreads – Tying Tales Together – Week 412”
“I should not have come here.”
“This is true. Whatever were you thinking?” He offered a sly look from the corners of his eyes.
I had no clue, though it seemed a good idea at the time. I held my tongue.
He paced around me. Chin up, shoulders and spine straight, gaze forward, I knew the picture I presented. I might look like a homeless person, but I still had my dignity. Granted, that’s about all I had left. Still, I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me cowed.
“I could kill you.” He all but purred and a smile to match his sly eyes slid into place on his face. “Or worse.”
Arching one arrogant brow, I managed to look down my nose at him. Quite the feat, given he was a foot taller. Something flashed in his eyes. Lust? Respect? A combination of the two? And anything supposedly worse than death didn’t frighten me. My own father already subjected me to that.
He walked away, sank into the large wingchair and left me standing there like a recalcitrant schoolgirl called to the headmaster’s office. He crossed his legs, one ankle on the opposite knee, and steepled his elegant fingers.
“Interesting you should come here.” He favored me with a cold smile. “I am the only man your father has not offered you to.”
Which was precisely why I’d come.
“Perhaps I shall keep you. Flaunt you as my mistress.”
I stiffened. He smiled.
“Or my wife…”
250 random Moonstruck Mafia words
Regrets, by JP Garland, 246 words @JPGarlandAuthor
“It’s a little late for that,” he said. She was looking at him in the mirror. His mirror. She said it every time. “I should not have come here.” Yet she came, and they both knew she would come next Thursday as she had every Thursday for over two months.
Her husband was cruel and had his own Thursday-night affair going. She hated herself for what she was doing, but she hated her husband more. It began as an act of revenge, a hollow revenge since he did not know of it. Soon it became her lifeline. The only moments in a week that she looked forward to. The only moments whose memory she savored.
She reached behind her back and unclasped her bra knowing he was watching her show. His eyes shifted from watching the unclasping to watching the reveal of her boobs in the mirror. They displayed her anticipation and excitement, and she turned so he could see them directly from the bed.
Soon she would be naked, as he already was. But she enjoyed the seconds when she was his object of desire. This Thursday night was different, though. As she looked at him and saw his own anticipation and excitement, she realized that he had become the object of her love and she knew she would no longer tell them both that she should not have come here. Instead she knew her only regret would be if she would ever leave here.
I could stand here in the window forever and it still wouldn’t seem real.
How life grabs you by the throat and chokes the dreams out of you.
I guess you never see it coming.
It’s a cool night. The morning may be coated in frost.
The grass will be slippery.
I’m not as young as I was. Have to be careful.
The moon’s glow worm bright. Too bright for my liking.
Good thing there’s the back way. That will work.
I’ll pull the car around into the alley. Close to the workshop.
It used to be the garage but was always too small for the kind of cars I preferred.
I should not have come here. I knew it would be trouble.
She begged though. “Please,” she whimpered in that little girl voice that always softened my brain, “We have to talk.”
“We have lawyers for that, Jill,” I said, looking to grow a spine.
“You used to love talking to me, darling. Remember?”
I did remember. But that was before.
Before the disease.
“There’s COVID, Jill. I can’t risk it.”
“You used to be more adventurous.”
She wore me down.
So, I buckled.
She welcomed me in. She was pale. Did not look well. And then we went to bed.
The blast woke me up. She had placed her pistol in my hand while I was sleeping, held it to her heart, pressed my finger.
Nice play, Jill.
Revenge is deadly sweet.
The reflex to protect, to save, pushed me to act. I heard the whimpers and moved without conscious thought. A spell died on my tongue as I pushed the double doors wide.
“Hey, everything oh…kay?” I forgot the rest of whatever I might have said, my brain blanking out for a hot minute as my eyes tried to make sense of the figures writhing around on the bed. “Maybe I should…not…have come here. My bad.”
Fucking idiot. Had it been so long since I’d gotten laid I couldn’t differentiate pleasure from ‘in need of medical attention’ moans?
A pretty human woman writhed on the bed, pinned down by Kai.
“Thank Athana,” he huffed. The sorcerer shot me a look of…gratitude? “Get over here and help me hold this thing down.”
“Uh—no? I’m really not into—” I tipped my head, watching the girl try to bite at the arms holding her down. Her teeth were quite…pointy. All of them. Like a piranha mouth wearing a human skin. “Um—bestiality? Cannibalism?”
“I thought you were going to say threesomes.”
“Ha.” I waved a hand. “I got that one out of my system in college.”
Kai’s face went laughably slack as I crossed to the bedside.
“And I wasn’t there?” He looked genuinely offended by this turn of events.
The she-beast tried to toss Kai off, but I grabbed her by her black hair. She shrieked as I fisted and twisted, jerking her down flat against the bed.
“Okay, now what?”
250 #TeamRPG words
I walked into the Forensic Psychiatric Rehabilitation Unit. It was a breeze they bent to my will easily. Directing me into the lounge they brought Malachi in ankle and handcuffs; an orderly discretely stood by I’d told him that he couldn’t hear the conversation and he didn’t.
Malachi smirked at me and then planted a kiss on my lips.
“I should not have come here.”
“No you shouldn’t have Sasha, why have you?’
“You have what I want, if we make a deal I can use my abilities to get you out of this place.”
“I can’t give that to you, Alexandra.” Malachi insisted, “It’s too dangerous.”
“The stone of Glengarron is my birthright.”
“Everyone who owns the stone changes; only the guardian can wield the stone and not suffer.”
“So can the heir.”
“But what if you’re not the heir. The rumours about your mother…”
“Are just that rumours. Where is my stone?”
“I’ll take you to it.”
Two hours later we were five hundred feet down in a cave. We dove into a dark body of water and I retrieved the stone.
As the stone touched the air, it glowed the colours of the rainbow in my hand and I felt a change come over me. Malachi just lifted his sword and pledged allegiance and kissed me soundly. I was stronger and I knew what I had to do. My father would rue the day he killed my mother and spread lies about her to protect himself.
“Now, in case anyone’s thinking, ‘I should not have come here’, I’ve two things to say. One, there’s a free bar and two, it’s amply stocked. And, if you’re interested, there’s also a buffet.” Xavier eyed the students, noting which ones had cheered. He’d already picked out a dozen who’d looked toward the door, vowing to split them up when he assigned the groups later. Superheroes were excitable at the best of times, but they were even worse after a liquid break.
“Are you going to be providing pancakes?” the one wielding a pair of lemon-squeezers asked. “Only I’ve got a vested interest. Every man’s got to eat, right?” His friend nodded in agreement, his head and his arms creaking as he moved. He looked swollen and stiff and overpoweringly white and appeared to be lacking in confidence.
“I’m afraid not,” said Xavier, wheeling himself back toward his lectern. “But if you want to do some business, help yourselves. It’s not often we can call on the services of both the Meringue Man and the Creped Crusader. All we need now is the Pied Piper to call by; he’s generally good for the savoury course, but I’m a little wary of the provenance of his fillings.”
After this, the class became more settled and the rest of the day almost went without incident. But then Ant-Man gate-crashed the picnic and the Human Fly fell in the punch and drowned.
And it had all been going so well at the beginning.
250 words ~ twothirdsrasta.blogspot.com
Alliances must be forged in blood and fire. He was our only hope.
I gripped the torch and limped into the abandoned War God Temple. It wouldn’t be long until the Reavers found me.
Moonlight filtered in through the dirty and broken glass onto the marble floor.
“I should not have come here.” I wavered. Still, my mouth gaped open, taking it all in. High ceilings, ornate columns, and battle scenes carved into the walls just like the book said it would be.
Catching my breath, I heard the sounds of approaching feet.
My time was almost up.
Quickly, I raced to the altar where a statue of Odin wielding a sword waited. Panting, I poured salt into a circle, sliced my hand with an athame, and allowed the blood to drip onto the blood altar, activating it. The blood slowly spread onto the altar’s runic script.
“Odin, I summon thee. Awaken.”
Just as I said those words, my sister raced into the chapel.
“Kennedy, no,” she yelled. Her blonde hair whipped around her.
The ground quaked, and the columns cracked and creaked. The floor bubbled to break, dust rained down from the cathedral ceilings, and the room lit up with a bright sigil. I’d sacrifice all to save the many. The rebellion needed me.
Finally, the aroma of sulfur wafted in the air around me, and Odin’s statue moved, setting the room ablaze.
It was too late.
“This can be the only way,” I whimpered.
Destiny called. He’d risen.
“I should not have come here.” I whimpered as the excruciating sound thundered in my head. I covered my ears and closed my eyes, but the sound was inside my skull and I couldn’t get away from it. I sank to my knees and bowed my head. Lady Tekhne, Lord Ignius, help me.
I don’t know why I prayed to them. They weren’t my personal gods, at least not from home. But after having met Tekhne, I figured I had a clearer connection to her than the god folks from home claimed to know.
Someone grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me gently until I opened my eyes, tears running down my face. Arach. He was saying something to me, but I couldn’t hear him over the screaming noise in my head.
Aie, why are you so difficult? Read his lips. My grandmother’s voice dripping with disgust pushed the screaming aside so I could focus. Whenever my Autism overwhelmed everything, she’d remind me to read lips to find out what I needed to know, especially when everyone chose to ignore me.
“Matsuko, listen to me.”
Heh, like that would happen.
“It’s the geas on this place. You have to break it with your magic.”
I shook my head. “Can’t. Screaming. Can’t focus. Don’t know how.”
He grasped my hands over my ears. “Music. Music will break the discord. Music is the key. Hum, Matsuko. Hum your favorite song.”
Ironically, Ozzy Osbourne’s Crazy Train filled my head.
247 ineligible #TeamRPG words
Mother Josephine’s taut voice sent a shiver up my spine. Maester Sforzando taught me to hear undertones, and Mother Josephine’s was scarier than usual. She knew I did something I should not have.
I took slow breaths like Maester Sforzando taught me. I turned and smiled as innocently as possible.
“Yes, Mother Josephine?”
The austere old abbess tapped her foot sharply. I gulped and scurried over to hang my head guiltily at her feet.
“Is there something you’d like to tell me, Melody?”
I imagined myself saying “no” with such confidence the mother superior let it go at that. Instead I squeaked it and withered under her scrutiny.
“Perhaps,” she pressed, “Something to do with using Song Magic without permission?”
“I’m so sorry!” I sobbed. “It won’t happen again!”
Mother Josephine’s lips tightened dangerously.
“You know better than to use The Lost Lullaby on your brothers and sisters.”
I gulped awkward approximations of calming breaths between sobs. I was in bad trouble! What would she do?
“I-I didn’t hurt anyone! I just wanted to see Maester Sforzando after Lights Out!”
Mother Josephine tensed, pinched the bridge of her nose, and took her own calming breath. I could hear the strain of keeping her voice level.
“Pray and reflect on your actions!”
Years later Mother Josephine told me I had acted strangely that morning and she had been worried about me. It was all she could do not to laugh when I confessed my crime.
250 Cat’s The Pajamas words
My curiosity sometimes got the better of me. That was one of those times. I’d wondered how people behaved at a popular music concert, so when I learned one of my favorite bands was having a show at the local amphitheater, I decided to attend, and find out.
I found the idea of sitting on a hillside covered with grass, watching several bands play their songs, fascinating. Before the first band went onstage, I focused on watching people find places to sit. I was stunned to see how many of them purchased drinks, mostly beer, from the amphitheater’s vendors. I knew those drinks were absurdly overpriced. But that didn’t seem to matter to those attending the event, as they kept obtaining more drinks every time they ran out.
Unfortunately, when that first band started I realized I was alone. Surrounded by an ocean of strangers, thousands of people I did not know. My mind stopped working correctly, and began asking, endlessly, “Why am I here?” and “What am I doing?”
I began to feel like an ant crossing a table surrounded by humans intent on smashing it. I lost track of the music, and kept reminding myself to breathe, as I desperately tried to control the panic attack I knew was engulfing me.
All the while, my mind kept endlessly repeating, “I should not have come here.”
I don’t remember the music at all. All I remember is I survived.
I should have not come here, I told myself for the hundredth time.
I put my hand on the door handle and hesitated. If I turned around now, no one would be the wiser.
It’s not cheating, if you just think about it. It’s only cheating, if you go through with it.
Thinking about it is only temptation.
But what a wonderful, intoxicating temptation.
It’s the temptation that leads me to desire things that lead to pain and heartache. A temptation that has driven me to the brink again.
Going in would destroy everything I worked for.
I told her I wouldn’t come back here again.
That the last time really was the last time.
That she means more to me than anything else in the world and I want to spend the rest of my life with her.
Just coming here tonight is a violation of that trust.
I step back from the door, pacing on the sidewalk.
I reach for the door handle, and then start to turn away, ‘I can do this’, I tell myself.
Just then a man pushes by me and goes in, and I can see it all, my heart’s desire laid out for me.
I should not be here.
A young woman looks at me, her smile beckoning me in.
And I fall.
I cheat again.
She smiles, her voice the siren song of temptation.
“Welcome to Dunkin’ Donuts, can I take your order?”
Lindsey squinted her eyes, trying to see in the darkened theater. Her heart felt like it was about to burst from her chest and she reached for her throat, feeling the strong lub-dub beneath her hand. Looking across the faces of strangers lit by the flickering screen, her eyes finally landed on Alicia, her best friend since forever.
Alicia spied her at the same time and waved Lindsey to the empty seat she’d saved. Making her way nervously past the knees of those already seated, she sat. Since Alicia had started dating Jim, she’d nearly disappeared. Literally. This was the first time Lindsey had seen her in the past six months, which is why she’d agreed so readily to meet Alicia tonight.
As the voice from the screen droned, Alicia looked around, noticing for the first time that most of the people there watched entranced. Just then Alicia and the rest of the crowd raised their left arms as one and opened their tattooed palms.
“May we live forever!”
Lindsey looked around, heart racing with fear at the commotion.
“What is this?” Her eyes wide as she asked the question.
“I told you – I’m introducing you to the most important person in my world.”
Just then, the lights flickered and a man walked out onto stage, smiling, his arms held up in salutation. The audience again raised their left arms, flashing the tattoo.
“Welcome, my new brides!”
“Good Lord, what have I done? I should not have come here.”
I hate being hot. And Stan knows it, which is why he always asks me to escort the newbies; bastard.
I smile. “Please keep your hands in the boat and don’t stand once we start moving.”
Fifteen minutes later, I bump the boat against a closed red door.
I consider ramming the door until I hear the shouting. When the door opens, I frown at the chaos on the other side.
Stan, hands on hips, shakes his head as a group of people mill about. Even before he gives me details, I think I know what happened.
He turns, eyes flashing red, making me think I should not have come here this morning. He’s not putting on the show, just a normal guy wearing khakis and a red polo, his naturally curly hair cut short.
“You can tell Death Britain to quit sending people here for shits and giggles! This is not a tourist destination!”
I open the gate and my group departs, realization dawning. The other group hurries on board. Hell is no joke and I turn the boat around before Stan puts on the Devil Show, hooves and all.
“Welcome abord the S.S. Heaven. I’m Jesus and we’ll be cruising about fifteen minutes. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.”
A woman screams and I realize the show has started. I zip up the canal and make Heaven in record time. Dad can deal with this lot; I’m going to lay down for a nap.
That Aint the Way to Have Fun
“Son,” the deputy said, in a tone that spoke volumes about just how wrong things had gone.
There was an almost musical sound to the accusation, and before I could think, I blurted out, “It wasn’t my idea, I didn’t know this was going to happen…”
“What was going to happen?” he asked, still sounding relaxed.
“Whatever I’m in trouble for,” I answered.
“Why don’t you tell me what happened?”
“Nothing,” I said softly. Nothing had happened, and that was part of the problem— because he’d never believe me. It’s the oldies lie in the book, the first lie we tell as kids. Right next to “I don’t know,” and I used them both.
‘Nothing happened, I don’t know who did it… it’s not my fault.’
Only I’d outgrown those lies and I lacked the cuteness factor that would rescue me from my sins, it left me with the one fact – I didn’t know what was going to happen, but I should have – Truth be told, I should not have come.
“So… nothing happened?”
“Sure, let’s go with that.”
That one was new. I was used to the 3rd degree, the give them enough rope methods of questioning but this— this was something different.
I watched as he opened the door and let me out.
He leaned in as I passed him, “I suggest you wash your face before you get home.”
I heard the deputies laughing as I walked away.
“That was mean…”
“But it was fun…”
248 words not including title
#ThursThreads Week 412 is now CLOSED. Thanks to everyone who wrote this week and I hope to catch you next week.