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 413 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 413:
Canadian YA Author, fueled by travel, Greek yogurt, and soccer, Mike Fisher.
And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.
The Prompt:
“I told her I wouldn’t come back here again.”
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!
“A bit early for cliffside brooding, isn’t it?” I stretched and yawned as I made my way to Taewoon.
“Mack still sleeping?”
“Mhm.”
“Good, I have some time. Interrogations start after coffee.” The boy perched on the edge of the cliff, legs dangling over the edge. Restless feet dislodged bits of earth and stone. “And I told her I wouldn’t come back here again.”
“You’ve been here before?” I settled next to him, though slightly more respectful of the sudden drop to the rocky seashore.
“Not here specifically. Metaphorically. The edge.”
“Ah.” I’d been there before. “Are you planning to go over it?”
Taewoon whipped around to stare at me, surprise easy to read in his wide amber eyes.
“No.” But something a lot like guilt flashed in the boy’s gaze, contradicting the denial. “I just—I needed to see—”
“How it feels? If the pull is still lurking in your mind?”
“You get it,” Taewoon said. “Kai, please don’t tell Mack. She—she doesn’t know. She’d be so disappointed.”
“You underestimate her,” I said.
“No, you don’t know what she did, what she promised.” Taewoon tugged his legs up, face against his knees. “She fought so hard to give me a chance. To convince me to stay.”
“And you think sitting here, testing yourself, negates that?”
“Kind of, yeah.” Teary eyes peeked over at me. “D-doesn’t it?”
“Maybe if the edge wins,” I said. “Will it?”
“Not today.”
I heard what went unspoken: Tomorrows were up for negotiation.
@caramichaels
250 #TeamRPG words
Loki saddled up to Thor’s side with Baldr and scrutinized the farmer. The man, dressed in tattered clothing, a patched wool cap on his unruly and unnatural peat colored hair, as if he’d been like this so long that moss had amassed on his clothes, and wound itself into his hair. At first, Loki didn’t understand Thor’s concern nor the man’s musical mumblings. He leaned in to listen.
“I told her I wouldn’t come back here again,” sang he, “but the pride of the orcs command my hand. I promised her flowers of colors— red, green, and blue—but all I can find, are bottles of wine, that make me forget her, too.”
Over and over, the verse continued. Loki bent low to stare into the man’s face. His eyes were sheer white, unseeing, no pupils, no irises, nothing but white, as if he’d never even been able to see.
“What’s happening here?” Thor asked, as he too must have noticed the white-eyes.
“You needn’t worry,” Quarra glanced over her shoulder as if looking around for others to approach. Gone was the relaxed drow, replaced by one preparing for battle. “There are humans here, who have fallen into the servitude of the dwarves. They usually are Ushered through the veil by rogue guardians—disir. You should really be on your journey.”
“We’ll not continue until we meet with this dis,” Thor said.
“As you will.” A sneer crossed Quarra’s face.
Loki couldn’t help but wonder what evil might await them.
250 words
@TinaGlasneck
#WIP #ForTheLoveOfThorsHammer
Huggery Run Amuck
“Just stay over there, Mr. Slig. If you move, I’ll have to restrain you.”
“Sorry Officer. I’m a fidgety sorta guy…I like to bounce about…”
“It’s Lieutenant, not officer…and you’d better put a plug in your twitchiness. Now, you know why you’re being questioned?”
“Because I’m a lover, not a fighter?”
“Good guess, but no. You’re here because Ms. Collins filed a harassment complaint. You can’t be coming here to her house. Certainly not now during COVID. We talked about this before, didn’t we? Day before yesterday. What did you tell her then?”
“I told her I wouldn’t come back here again.”
“Exactly. Yet, here we are. Two days later. You got memory problems, Mr.Slig? You don’t seem to me to have memory problems.”
“Sometimes I forget where I left my keys.”
“I bet you do. That’s a very human thing to do. I forget where I left mine from time to time. Very natural. You know what’s not natural?”
“Not really, Lieutenant.”
“I’ll tell you. Stalking. Stalking’s not natural. In fact, it’s downright creepy. You like doing creepy things, Mr. Slig? Get your jollies being a creep?”
“I don’t think you’re allowed to talk to me like that, officer.”
“Officer? You’re already forgetting what to call me Mr. Slig. Or maybe its showing disrespect? You that kinda guy?”
“I think I want a lawyer.”
“Well, I was gonna let you go, but, you know, I’d like to meet your lawyer. Turn around. You are under arrest.”
250 Words
@billmelaterplea
“I told her I wouldn’t come back here again.”
“Your promise to mom supersedes Grandma’s, don’t you think?”
“It does. Read this book!” he insisted handing me a book that looked old, “Study and be ready for school tomorrow.”
There was a lot of information to take in. Girls couldn’t wear pants or short skirts. Shirts could not been seen and bra straps either. Women were expected to be polite and not forward. I’d have to have a lobotomy to act this way.
“Is this really necessary?”
“The magic council expected you to obey the rules if you had we wouldn’t have to hide out in the past until you’re eighteen .Rules are not meant to be broken.”
“Maybe I can shake up the 60s just a little,” I commented.
“Not too much, or I’ll have to take you back to the 1800’s and that’s even more confining, Anna. Too much of a change to the timeline we’ll assist the Magic Council in finding us. If they find us you’ll get the ultimate punishment and lose your abilities.”
I accepted my punishment and went to my new school. I was sent home for wearing pants and bright lipstick. I tried hard to stamp down my personality, but soon people accepted me as I was. I shook up the 60’s a little, but only for the better and when I went back to my own time the council accepted me too. Sometimes you just have to shake things up a little.
250words
@SweetSheil
Rolling waves quietly kissed the beach. April kicked up dry sand and pulled me to her favorite spot to watch the end of day. Grandpa had created a wrought iron bench for Grandma and presented it when he asked her to marry him. I knew April wanted me to do that, too, because she often asked me to repeat the story.
Tonight, there would be no story.
The shadows turned blue waves into small black caps in the setting sun.
I sat, and she leaned on me to snuggle. I put an arm around her and knew she was listening to my rapid heart.
Neither of us spoke as the sun suddenly blazed, turning the ocean orange. When the sun fell below the horizon, the waves calmed. Before I spoke, the clouds went from orange, red, violet, to black. I didn’t want to see her face or her to see mine.
I told her I wouldn’t be coming back here again. I was leaving in the morning to join the Navy. I couldn’t see her face, but I felt her tears.
“I could come with you.”
I shook my head.
“Will you remain my friend?”
“I’ll always be your friend, but…” I couldn’t say the words.
“I’ll text you. Okay?”
“Sure.” I knew she wouldn’t be able to keep that up. She’d find some other guy, and then every time I looked at the sun set over the bow of a ship, I’d remember her until the darkness enveloped me.
250 words
@pattydump1
Charlie Connor knocked on the second pane up on the left of the Amanda Blainey’s backdoor, the uncracked one.
He turned and eyed the barn across the yard. Its paint-stripped door hung from one hinge that he was sure hadn’t swung since he’d left for France.
“I told her I wouldn’t come back here again, just in case. But I never thought it’d get…”
From the open window behind him he heard, “You always did have a rotten memory.”
Charlie jerked around and blurted, “Amanda, is that you?” But all he saw in the window were water-stained gingham curtains gently swaying. From the breeze or her hand he couldn’t tell.
“Sorry if I startled you. I just come back to town for my brother’s funeral. Stopped here right off the train to see how you’re doin’.”
No response.
“Amanda, please come out and talk.”
Something blurred past the door like the gray ghosts he’d catch from the corner of his eye since that day on the Somme and Charlie heard, “What do you care?”
“Eddie wrote you had a beau, so I figured…”
“Charlie Connor?” The voice from behind made him jump more than those first shells dismembered everyone down the trench to his right. It was Old Man Blainey.
“Hello, Mr. Blainey. I was tellin’ Amanda I was here for Eddie’s…”
“Amanda?”
“Yessir, he died from the …”
“I know what he died from.”
“Yeah so many…”
“He’s the one probably give it to Amanda.”
“But…”
248 words
@JAHesch
“How do you know Phinn?”
His father’s gaze shifted from Phinn back to Kendra, the smile noticeably strained. “I’m his father.”
She gasped. “No! He said his father was dead. My goodness, how wonderful.” She bounced a little with feigned excitement. “I love family reunions. So sweet. Have you seen those videos of soldiers coming home to see their kids on Facebook? Oh my glory, they make me cry every time. Don’t you just love those videos, Phinn?”
She didn’t know who was more surprised, Phinn or his father. Both of them stared at her as if she’d lost her mind. Elves don’t do Facebook. She hoped her smile was delighted rather than amused.
“I have not, Lady Gojira, but I’m sure they’re as delightful as you.” The force of the man’s charm magic slid over her as he reached for her hand, but it bounced off her aura like a skipping stone. That’s weird.
He must have thought so too because his mouth twitched into a slight frown when she didn’t react. Instead, he turned his attention to Phinn.
“How is your mother? I trust she’s well.”
“Do you?” The question came out without the anger she read in Phinn’s taut body. “She is. Thanks for asking.”
“Perhaps you’ll give her my best.”
“No, I told her I wouldn’t come back here again.”
“Yet, here you are.”
“Not through my choice or my efforts.” Phinn shrugged. “She’ll understand forced attendance. You know something about that, don’t you, my lord?”
250 ineligible #SamhainSoldier words
@SiobhanMuir
The bartender mixed martinis, expression sour.
“Not my fault.” Katie jabbed her thumb over her shoulder. “Blame the Deluxeburys.”
He snorted. “Why would dames from Duxbury hang out here?”
She offered a negligent shrug and lifted her full tray. She knew. Rich girls came to this south Boston pub because the Irish mob hung out here. Girls from all over the Irish Riviera came to drool over the boys. And they were drool-worthy.
Katie approached the four-top and caught snatches of conversation, the women yelling over the music.
“I don’t see them.”
“Later. They come later.”
“I told her.”
“I wouldn’t come back here if Monica paid me.”
“Sure you would. Mona’s rich.”
Katie maintained a bland expression as she slid fresh drinks onto the table and deftly grabbed the empties. One woman snatched up a glass and swigged.
“Ugh! They can’t even make a dry martini.” The woman flung the half-full glass at Katie and it caught her full in the face. The tray crashed sending booze and glass everywhere.
Expletives cut her like the glass had, then the whole pub went dead silent No conversation. No music. A white handkerchief was pressed to Katie’s cheek by a strong hand. “The lot of you are eighty-sixed. Don’t come back.”
“Do you know who I am?” one demanded.
“Do you know who I am?” he mocked, his arm curling around Katie’s waist. “I’m the man kickin’ you out.
The whispers started. “That’s Mick O’Connor.”
Irish mob boss. And Katie’s.
****
250 Moonstruck Mob Wolves words
@SilverJames_
I took another bite from the wafer. It was dry and tasteless and stuck to my tongue. There was little surprise most of the seats were empty.
“You need to have a little more patience,” Elaine said, sipping the wine. I’d tried it earlier and thought it was corked. Most of the other customers here were elderly and not used to eating well, but the cellar staff could do so much better without spending a lot more.
“I think it’s awful,” I said. “All of it. The building’s a mess and it’s cold. You could find a better place almost anywhere. The landscaping’s a distraction and as for all the graves; it’s morbid, I tell you, and not at all good for business.”
Elaine shrugged. She’d given up on her fashion too. She had become dowdy and monochromatic and spent every weekend at home. She’d not been out on a girls’ night for months.
It was like she’d been changed. Or even possessed. She had mentioned something about demons earlier when we’d been talking. I had lost interest in her when she said she had become celibate since her marriage to Hugh. I’d never really connected with him; he had seemed so earnest when I first met him, but he had no sense of fun.
It seemed like he’d taken her over, killed something inside.
And so, I told her I wouldn’t come back here again.
It was for the best. The whole situation was a sham and totally unnatural.
250 words ~ twothirdsrasta.blogspot.com
Security was up at the south dockyard. The loose grate I used to get in last time was fixed and patrols were more than doubled. Still, it was impossible to completely seal a facility like the dockyards. The military trained me too well. They had no idea I was here.
My freedom had been severely restricted since the secret police arrested me two months ago. I was lucky to even be alive. I had Commander Batra to thank for that. She didn’t deserve the trouble I caused her.
I told her I wouldn’t come back here again, but I couldn’t accomplish any more from within the system. To save my country, I had to betray it. I couldn’t imagine the bounty the new invasion fleet would bring the empire. What I knew was how dearly we were still paying for our past wars. I had to believe the soul of our nation could still be saved. I couldn’t allow the invasion to go forward.
A gunshot narrowly missed my head before I could set the charge on the first ship. Reflexively, I threw myself aboard behind the armored rail as the klaxon sounded. The chunk of metal piercing metal shook the deck and the ship began to drift. A formidable falchion near my own height was embedded where it had severed the anchor chain.
Chancing a glance over the rail I met Commander Batra’s weary gaze as she blocked me from the view of swarming soldiers with her massive frame.
250 Cat’s The Pajamas words
@DavidALudwig
Everything comes full circle, I suppose. Perhaps everyone does too.
The first town I lived in didn’t have a stop light, or a school, but it had a Southern Baptist church. It didn’t have a McDonald’s, or Taco Bell, not even a mom and pop place, or a gas station. It wasn’t even a town, being unincorporated.
My family lived there until I was 12. That’s when Dad went stupid, and Mom left him, and took me to Jackson with her. That’s when I said goodbye to Bonnie.
Bonnie lived next door. She was cute as cute gets, with amazing red hair I got caught staring at too many times. We’d been friends as long as either of us could remember, and we’d never thought our friendship would end.
Until Dad went stupid, and Mom and I moved.
The night before we left, I took a walk with Bonnie. Mom told me, “She’s your friend, you need to say good-bye.” That night was when Bonnie kissed me. We had no idea how kisses worked, but she kissed me anyway, and held my hand as we walked.
The next morning I went next door, and said good-bye to Bonnie. She asked me to write, and to come visit someday. “Mom cried herself to sleep last night.” I told her. Then, I told her I wouldn’t come back here again.
And I never did. Until now. For Bonnie’s funeral.
Everything does come full circle, you know.
Everything.
244 Words
@mysoulstears
It’s so quiet now, in this room. To think, a couple of days ago, this was a hub of activity. I told her I wouldn’t come back here again, but I left a file. And if someone finds that file, I’m dead meat.
The table is empty, one chair swiveled toward the door. I hope the chair doesn’t creak; I’m a big person and the chair is snug around my hips. I tap the tile directly in the center under the table. It slides and a thumb drive rises toward me, which I quickly pocket.
Death has plans to turn the world on its head for a year or so. Mother Nature is sick and tired of the destruction of her planet and she wants it to stop. This thumb drive is one of many that contain Death’s plans to deal with that destruction. Should these leak, all hell will break loose.
Replacing the tile, I stand up; the room is off limits but I have a way to get in. Walking forward two steps, I fade onto the Dark Plane, fast-walking to my office. The stone floor clicks under foot and the thick stone door whispers shut as I hide the thumb drive in my desk. Sinking into my extra-wide, extra cushion desk chair, I let out a sigh. Two weeks. In two weeks Mother Nature lets phase one begin. And I’m so glad I have the option to live on the Dark Plane until things are over.
@Aightball
249 words
“Sammy, you’re next. Please tell us all about your summer vacation.”
“It’s Sandra, Mr. Cooper.”
“Sandy, Sammy, it’s all the same.”
“No, it is not. Mr. Pooper.”
“Excuse, what did you call me?”
“It’s all the same, Pooper, Tooper,”
“Go to the office young lady.”
“Why? I am following your example.”
Mr. Cooper’s face filled from the neck up an extremely angry shade of red. In fact, Sandra thought he might explode, but she didn’t care. her name was not that difficult to remember, but she picked up her backpack and left the classroom. All eyes and phones on her. great another, call to her foster home and they were going to send her to a group home. Why didn’t she think about these things before she opened her mouth?
The office secretary looked up at her and barely acknowledged her, “Mr. Hines will be with you soon.”
Sandra sat down and slumped down on her seat.
“Hi. I’m Esther. What’s your name?”
Irony and bad luck seem present in her life.
“Sandra. Not that anyone cares.”
“I’m someone and I care. Sandra.”
Sandra Lopez felt the warmth of friendship sprout within them. And from that moment Sandra felt a sense of belonging. She went into Mr. Hines office and said “If I promise not to make any more waves could you not call my foster parents? And I told her I wouldn’t come back here again.” Sandra pointed to Esther and Mr. Hines smiled.
“Also, could you let Mr. Cooper know my name is Sandra. Not Sammy.”
@Chattmor
250 words
No Exit Code
I stood in front of the mirror practicing what I would say to my future self about the events that had just unfolded.
“Hind sight is 20/20,” was the first phrase, although what sight has to do with a female deer, I’ll never know. I do know that there comes a time when we learn to own up to our mistakes and shortcomings.
There will come a time where it is no longer “He made me do it,” but rather “I fell for peer pressure,” or, my favorite, “It seemed like the thing to do at the time.
Some days “I didn’t want to come,” actually means “I didn’t want to be caught here” or, more likely “I came against my better judgment.”
Days like today, when “I told her I wouldn’t come back here,” becomes “I told her I wouldn’t come back here… again.”
I sighed, knowing that future me, wasn’t going to learn from what I did or didn’t do, Future me is the same idiot I am now— just older. Wisdom only comes if you’re willing to learn, and I’ve only really learned when things to really, really wrong.
So many things I’d say, but it all boils down to, “don’t hit that button…”
I stood in front of the mirror practicing what I would say to my future self about the events that had just unfolded.
231 words, not including title.
@mishmhem
I told her I wouldn’t come back here again.
He had been there yesterday, then two days before that, then a week ago, and three days before that.
Five injuries in the course of two weeks.
A part of him thought about calling child protective services.
But these were really just accidents – the results of having five boys under the age of twelve, rather than of bad parenting or negligence.
He thought about the boys and their injuries. Jamey had a concussion, Kevin got a black eye, Linus broke his nose, and Michael had knocked out his two front teeth.
That left Nathan the youngest, always trying to impress his brothers, trying to get them to notice him.
“Nathan, what did you do?” He thought.
But in the back of the mind, he knew. It had to be that old water bed, the boys just loved it.
One mom, five young boys, and a waterbed – that was just a recipe for disaster.
He knocked, “It’s open, Doctor,” her voice rang out. She sounded more exasperated than ever.
Nathan sat in his highchair, a gash across his forehead.
He looked at the wound. It would need stitches.
“Nathan,” he sighed, “what did I tell you yesterday?”
The boy looked up at him innocently, “no more monkeys jumpin’ on the bed?”
He looked at him sternly, “how did you cut your head?”
“I jumped on the bed.” The little boy said, and his brothers beamed with pride.
245 Words
@jsandersen76
When I finish the song, his eyes are still closed, head still tilted back against the chair. For a moment I think he’s fallen asleep, but he takes a deep breath and opens his eyes. There’s a renewed vitality there, and no matter how often I heal him with my music, I’ll never not be surprised to see it.
His gaze lingers on mine just a little too long, and I look away, toward the door Oriza slammed on her way out.
“The last time I saw her, we said some harsh things.” Regret laces his words. “I told her I wouldn’t come back here again.” He sighs. “This isn’t how I saw our reunion happening.”
“I’m sorry.” I try not to let the guilt weigh me down, but it sits heavy on my shoulders. “Maybe I should go.” Grip tightening on my violin, I move back to the other room. “You can stay here, reconnect with your mom. I can find Nevari from here.”
“Camilla-”
“You’ve brought me this far. Don’t feel obligated-”
“I don’t.” Valmong stops me from leaving, taking one of my hands. “I didn’t risk my mother’s wrath because I feel obligated.”
This time, he doesn’t let me look away. Before I realize what’s happening, his fingers brush my jaw, and his lips press against mine.
220 #TeamRPG words
@katheryn_avila
#ThursThreads Week 413 is now CLOSED. Thanks to everyone who wrote this week and I hope to catch you next week.