Welcome back to the home of Weird, Wild, & Wicked Tales. Today is Thursday and that means it’s time to start flashing. We’re at the beginning of our ninth year of weekly prompts. It’s amazing we’ve gone this long! This is Week 428 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 428:
Erotic romance author, editor, and cowboy connoisseur, Paige Prince.
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And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.
“You’ll look great in this.”
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!
20 Replies to “#ThursThreads – Tying Tales Together – Week 428”
“You do realize we’re committing at least a half-dozen federal felonies?” I said to Ben as he played with the lock on the senator’s door.
Ben just smirked. He had the door open the next moment and took out a pen flashlight as we entered the apartment. “I have no desire to do time in a federal pen,” he said. “But you pay good and I’ve got three kids in college. So let’s do this.”
I trusted Ben. We worked together before and I needed his expertise. As a political operative I was hired by the DNC to find out if their golden boy, the junior senator from Virginia and current front runner for president, had anything to hide. I was good at my job. Finding dirt on candidates.
I kicked off my five inch heels when we entered the apartment and left them under a nightstand just inside the door. Ben raised an eyebrow.
“These things are killing me,” I said. “I dont know how I let you talk me into dressing like a hooker.”
“You’ll look great in this,” Ben said earlier this evening when he laid out the outfit he got for me to wear.
“Plausible disguise if we’re spotted.”
“Fuck you, Ben.”
We searched the apartment but came up empty.
“What were you looking for?” Ben said when we were back in the car.
Ben raised an eyebrow. “You’re kidding me.”
I’d decided. Not that my final decision had ever been in doubt. Well, in much doubt. Wizard was a jackass. I smiled inwardly. Look at me, saying swear words and everything. I would embrace my inner biker babe or die in the process. Looking at the pack of women surrounding me, that might be a distinct possibility.
After determing that Wizard was my one, I involved the old ladies. Now, I regretted doing so. They’d dragged me to a Harley dealership that also had a Harley “boutique” attached. I thought they’d suggest I buy a couple of T-shirts to fit in. Oh, no. They were far to devious for that.
Ginger held up a hanger. “You’ll look great in this.”
I stared, just managing to keep my mouth from gaping. The clip-style hanger held a leather bustier that laced up with front with red leather ties. I backed away but didn’t get far before butting up to something solid. Shianne.
“Go try it on,” The pack pretended to be bobble-head dolls at Shy’s order. Ginger handed me the bustier. Leigh passed over a pair of black jeans.
“Are they stretch?”
When the old ladies stopped laughing, I sighed. Before Shy even got me into the dressing room, Sam was there with a pair of knee-high motorcycle boots. There was no escaping this torture. At least the darn thing fastened in front.
I stepped out to wolf whistles—from several men. Maybe I did look great in this.
250 Night Wish WIP words
We stood only six feet apart, but it felt like nothing after being a thousand miles away from each other for so long. It wasn’t COVID that stilled my feet and dried my mouth, though. It was the knowledge that somehow this was real, not a dream. That despite all the odds against it, we could see each other, talk to each other, touch each other, experience each other.
You spoke first, which was good, because I was too overwhelmed for words.
“I missed you. Do you know how I missed you?”
Finally my tongue loosened.
“You’ve tried to tell me. I think I know.”
You shook your head, curly hair bouncing with the motion.
“No. You don’t. You don’t know. But it doesn’t matter. I don’t have to miss you now.”
Tears were in your eyes now, or at least I think so – it was hard to see through my own.
“I brought you something for your birthday. I can’t wait to see you in it. You’ll look great in this.”
You smiled, and your eyes lit up through the tears. I could see stars in there, lights reflecting from around the room. The end of all the fruitless searches.
“Don’t tell me. Something blue?”
“Not this time.” I held out my arms and stepped forward. You came up to meet me, and then your arms were around me and mine around you. I pulled you close.
“I was right. You look great in my arms.”
When my cousin handed down the soft, plush gown, I caressed it, looking at Mom with pleading eyes.
“You’ll look great in this if you have someplace special to go.” She snatched the dress from my ten-year-old hands. “Until then, it stays in the closet. I can’t afford to clean it.”
My shoulders sank. Every day, my longing grew as I secretly went to the closet and stroked the velvet.
On the fateful day mom left for work early, I debated ten seconds before sliding into the dress. I don’t remember deliberately disobeying anyone before that ecstasy of red velvet filled me.
My younger sister Sherry shook her head. “You’re going to regret that.”
“No, I’m not because you’re not going to tell.”
She was right. The itchy plaid taffeta skirt did become miserable as the day progressed. Plus, to keep it clean, I sat out of the races at recess and wished I’d worn play clothes.
Revengefully, the next day Sherry pulled the same clothing swap. She sashayed regally past me with her red-hair gleaming against red velvet, never looking more beautiful.
“I didn’t tell, so you can’t.”
I shrugged as if I didn’t care, but I relished every recess more, knowing she couldn’t play or she’d risk Mom’s wrath.
Unfortunately, wearing the dress had unexpected consequences because, after school, Bobby’s mother yelled to him, “Get in the car. That little red-headed girl was hit by a truck.”
I will never forget the agony of red velvet.
Baroth showed me the skin he’d selected. It hung deflated like a half-stuffed salami. “You’ll look great in this,” he urged, pushing it against me. “But ignore how it looks; they never really look their best without a life-force inside.”
I’d decided I was going to hate it before I tried it, but as soon as we began to merge, I was surprised. I enjoyed being a demon as much as anyone, but the instant I lost the horns and dropped the tail, I felt renewed. Mortality looked good on me, the blonde locks and the D’ cups changing my whole slant on life. The skin still had some memories that were attached, its previous occupant a tragic actress who had died a short while after becoming an icon and a film-star. I immediately felt an affinity for jewellery, with a place called Tiffany’s coming to mind.
“I think you’re right,” I said. “I feel divine and radiant. And positively mischievous. There’s no end to the devilry this skin could endure. I feel ready to take on the world, one man at a time, although even that’s negotiable. Just watch me and wonder, planet Earth. Norma Jeane’s coming back.”
“One moment.” Baroth loomed over me, him having put on the skin of the eight-foot tall minotaur he usually favoured. And then I realised he’d had some plans of his own. Very urgent ones, so it appeared.
“JUST one moment?” I grinned slyly, giving him a wink. “You do disappoint me.”
250 words ~ twothirdsrasta.blogspot.com
“Why must you always look like an unmade bed in an abandoned frat house?” Clarissa asked me last November.
Before I could even give her an answer, for which I had none, she marched me to her room and revealed an array of men’s clothing. It looked like some dog had shredded a copy of GQ on its mistress’ bed.
“Is this some kind of intervention, Clarissa?” I said as my bare right foot shifted toward the door. But my sister already had her $75 a pop (tip included) acrylic hooks into me and, lest she draw blood, I decided to humor her.
“Yes. I’m tired of seeing you in some grubby sweats or jeans perched on your ass and bundled around your ankles. It embarrasses me no end when you answer the door in what looks like the same teeshirt with the stain between your moobs when I know ALL you have are teeshirts with stains between the moobs.”
“That’s a lie,” I told her. “I don’t have moobs.”
“You need to upgrade your look for after graduation. Employers appreciate — and I’ll be proud of — your more refined appearance. Now, just for fun, try on this Prime Wardrobe haul I ordered.”
My big sister — my mother hen, my rock, since our Mom died. So…
“Here, you’ll look great in this,” she said, and handed me this very suit, shirt and tie. You’ll have to admit, she was right.
I just wish I didn’t end up needing it before graduation.
I turned to Ainsley in despair, “I don’t know what to wear, or how I’m going to pull this off.”
Ainsley rolled her eyes as she moves around in her closet. “Hunter, just relax. I’ve got you taken care of girl.” Ainsley grabs a dress from a never-ending row of sparkly gowns and walks out with a mischievous grin across her face.
“I’ve been saving this for the right occasion. I know you’ll look great in this! Wesley won’t even know what to think when he sees you.”
I stood there, dumbfounded as I held up the dazzling blue gown in front of myself and Ainsley pulled my hair back into a low, wispy chignon. I’m the tomboy, not a delicate little flower like most of the girls at Westin Hall. I’d rather be out at the arena with the horses than getting all dressed up. What the hell did I get myself into? Oh, that’s right…Bianca thinks I’m challenging her because Wesley asked me some questions about my new saddle. Did she honestly think I’m a threat to their non-existent relationship? I guess so since she dared me to attend the Founder’s Gala tonight, knowing I don’t have the attire or funds.
“Ainsley,” I said. “Do you really think Wesley could fall for this tomboy from the middle of nowhere?”
Ainsley catches my gaze in the mirror, “Hunter, he’d be a fool not to.”
With Perfume On my Wrist
“Trust me, you’ll look great.”
“In this?” I asked Martha, my armorer, as I looked at myself in the mirror. The dress was a cute, backless ‘little black dress’ with a neckline that plunged to my belly button.
She didn’t smile as much as smirk, knowingly.
I turned, checking the fit, “how am I going to hide a gun in something this… tight?”
“Honey, with this dress, you could bring a howitzer and no one would notice,” she said then she handed me a little clutch, that was big enough for a set of keys and a lipstick if you were using samples sizes.
“Martha,” I asked looking at it. “I can’t even fit a 9mm bullet in this thing, how am I supposed to defend myself?”
She smiled at me, held up a small perfume bottle, and popped it into the clutch.
“Perfume. I’m supposed to defend myself with perfume?”
“Beth,” she sighed. “I know you haven’t been out on a date in a while but trust me – you aren’t going to need a gun or body armor.”
“What happens if something goes wrong?” I asked.
Martha rolled her eyes “If anything goes wrong, you walk out. If it goes really wrong, you toss your drink on him and walk out.”
The date was fine until the guns came out.
Looking back at the flaming ruins of the restaurant as we drove away I had to laugh. Martha was right, I didn’t need a gun— explosives were more effective.”
250 words (exactly)(Not including title)
Dead Door Jam
Some dead bodies make adequate door jams. This one didn’t. It all depends on where you land after dying.
That aside, she’d been young once. No longer so, but she had good lines. It was easy to tell. Even fully clothed in a bright yellow summer dress.
Sadly, I thought, she’d never again hear from a friend, an admirer, that ‘you’ll look great in this.’
Being a romantic Dick at heart, I told her, “For a corpse, babe, you do look great.”
Maybe she was fifty. Or thirty. Hair red as fire. Now it was all burnt toast. As I took her in, started to call the police, my client, Effie Finecastle, arrived.
She screamed before I knew she was there.
High pitched, it was. Like a siren in your brain in the middle of the night. I stepped towards Effie, tried to give her a shake. She recoiled, kept on her feet with the support of the warehouse wall.
“Stop screaming,” I pleaded.
“You????” she accused, pointing to me at first and then down to the expired redhead.
“Not me,” I declared. “It wasn’t me, Effie. This is how I found her. Who is she?”
It took her a few moments to compose herself. Me, I was a little more used to dead bodies.
“She’s…she’s my best friend.”
“Her name?” I asked.
“Helen. Helen Monterey.”
“Any relation to your husband’s paramour, Mona Monterey?”
“Well,” I said, “That must’ve made for interesting heart to hearts.”
“Here, you’ll look great in this.” A fire engine red skimpy dress was waved in front of Andie’s face.
“Yeaaah, no. My pillow cases have more fabric than that thing does.”
“Well, this is better than your pillow cases and if you expect to get into the party, you need to do more than wear ripped jeans and a t-shirt and boots that look like you stomped around in the muddy puddles all day.”
“Hey, these are perfectly okay for work clothes. Contrary to all the urban fantasy books you read, not everyone can pull off the skin tight leather pants and hooker heels.”
Serenity sniffed and straightened up, adjusting the top of her own tight dress in a turquoise blue that gave a bright contrast against her caramel skin. “Seriously, this is a fancy dress party. You can’t go like that.”
“I wasn’t invited.” Andie flopped back on the bed and watched her cousin continue to get ready.
“What do you mean, you weren’t invited? Everyone is invited.”
“Baby, no one from the House of Anubis gets invited to those parties. We’re ‘undesirables.” Andie used air quotes.
Serenity stared at her and frowned. “Fuck that noise.”
The other woman cracked up. “So says House Bastet?”
“So says me. No matter the house. You’re my cousin and if they consider you unwanted, then maybe I shouldn’t go.”
“I’m sure you’ll find it if you’ll look.”
“Great. . . In this?”
Her voice incredulous as she pointed to a box filled with all types of tchotchkes. Finding the one item which held any value would be a challenge in the best of circumstances. And, of course, this was not that.
“How much time do I have?”
Her words were breathy as they came through my earbud.
I watched her on the monitor in front of me, looking for signs of stress or confusion. She didn’t seem rattled. Good. Maybe she would be the one to finally succeed.
“You have four minutes and thirty-eight seconds. You’ve got this.”
Kat was the fourth operative to work this case. She didn’t need to know what had happened to the other three, but each of them had gotten us one step closer to the prize. Now, it was up to her to finally bring it home.
She cursed under her breath as she sorted through the box, picking up trinket after trinket. After an eternity, she gasped and I knew she’d found it.
“Did you get it?”
Kat held the item up to the camera. She’d found it.
“Remember, place it in the padded envelope and put it in the trash chute. That way, if you’re caught, it won’t be on you.”
I heard the swish of the trash chute and made eye contact with my team leader.
“Go clean up.”
“You sure, Boss? This one’s smart.”
“I’m sure. No loose ends.”
@TeresaMEccles 250 words
“You’ll look great in this!”
Jerem Matis plunged into the back-room trunk with unusual gusto. Tanned leather flew out behind him followed by a manly straw hat. Hunter Lee raised his arms to keep his hands clear of the clothing striking his broad chest and falling to the floor.
“No brinkin’ way! Not happenin’, mate!”
The dainty half elf looked back over his shoulder, a strand of his meticulously coifed hair askew over his half-moon spectacles.
“What? Why not?”
The powerfully muscled human stepped away from the pile on the floor as if afraid of getting it on his boots.
“I said neva again!”
Jerem stood to face Hunter, correcting his coiffure with a comb of his dexterous fingers.
“You always say that.”
“I meant it! About this.” Hunter kicked the ground discontentedly. “Why d’ya always hafta get me such sleazy jobs?”
Jerem lifted his eyebrows and narrowed his eyes to look down on the larger man.
“I am your friend with disreputable connections, who gets you paid and on your way again, no questions asked, in never more than a week. What kind of jobs did you think that would entail?”
Hunter massaged the back of his neck.
“Ya have legit contacts too! Maybe dock work?”
Jerem waved dismissively.
“You could get those jobs yourself. And they wouldn’t pay your bills.”
Hunter sighed down at the pile of clothing.
“But why the assless chaps again?”
“Oh!” Jerem blushed. “You can wear pants under them this time.”
247 Cat’s The Pajamas words
“Here. This one. It brings out your eyes and you’ll look great.”
“In this?” Joslyn held up the copper-colored satin wrap dress and raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure it’s not too golden for tonight? Wasn’t this supposed to be the Silver New Year’s Celebration?”
“Silver refers to the years they’ve been doing this, not the color dress code.” I rolled my eyes as I helped her lift the dress over elegant braided chignon. “And silver won’t look as good on you, and I want you to look hawwwt.” I grinned as she settled the dress around her generous curves.
She frowned at her reflection in the floor-length mirror. “I don’t know.”
“I do. Andre won’t know what hit him. He’ll be all over you like mist in the glen.” I grinned at her as she rolled her eyes.
“I’m not sure I want that.” But I caught the smile curling her lips before she turned to me. “What are you going to wear?”
I shrugged as my cheeks heated. “Well…”
“Well what?” Her eyes narrowed. “What did Flint pick out for you?”
I shrugged but picked up the black garment bag and laid it on the bed before zipping it open. Inside lay a deep forest green crushed velvet dress with a scoop neck and the black leather bustier with the Concrete Angels MC logo on the back. The bustier laced up the front with red satin ties.
Joslyn whistled. “Damn, girl, you’ll be the hottest witch there!”
249 ineligible #ConcreteAngelsMC words
My horse, Destiny, is glaring at me. And really, if I had a unicorn horn balanced on my head, I’d be glaring too.
“Look, I’m sorry, okay? But we have to do this for Adrianna’s daughter, because she wants a fairy princess birthday party and I have a horse that can turn into a unicorn. If you do this for me, we’ll go up and shoot the moon rise tomorrow night instead of work, deal?”
She snorts, glare still firmly in place. But she lets me pet her, so she’s not too mad at me. I hold up some pink ribbon and she backs up, snout swinging back and forth. Her tail swishes and she keeps her mane out of reach. She hates pink.
“You’ll look great in this!” I say, putting on my best smile. “And you’ll make Julianna the happiest four-year-old in Iowa.”
Reluctantly, she lets me braid the ribbons into her mane and tail and then we take to the skies. After all, it wouldn’t any good if the unicorn didn’t fly. I circle their acreage, waiting for the signal from my friend. Her kids know we work for Death and therefore, Julianna swears up and down unicorns are real.
Julianna’s squeaky voice screams as she spots the ‘unicorn’ and I swoop in, Destiny’s wings making a grand show for all the kids. She even puts on her version of a smile, while aiming a dark thought my way, as if to say ‘you owe me!’
“You’ll look great in this.” The lies just from the store employee.
The truth was I would look awful in this dress, the colour yellow alone made me look sallow and half -dead but add the stripes of black and I looked like some deranged bumble bee. It was a bandage dress and I was about twenty pounds over my ideal weight.
I intended to leave when another employee asked, “Are you Gaia?”
“I am,” I admitted.
In the backroom were racks and racks of dresses, tables with sweaters pants of all sorts.
“I’m Darla. I serve the good in your family. She handed me a red flared dress with a deeply cut bosom. When I tried it on. I felt beautiful and thin. She then handed me pants and seaters that also looked amazing.
Darla said, “You look like a million bucks.”
“I’ll take them,” I said pulling out my credit card.
“They’re gifts,” Darla insisted, “Some people need magic more than most. You have love; but I see in you, goodness so I also give you health as long as these clothes are yours .Enjoy.”
With that the woman disappeared and I found myself outside with a bag of clothes and a renewed sense of health. I married Darius. Magically the clothes are still intact they’ve outlived Darius. I’ve never seen that woman again, but Darla is spoken often in whispers by the women in our family. The aging streak continues in our female line for I’m 102.
250 words @SweetSheil
The door clicked shut as we entered the pale-walled room. My “outfit” waited on a lonely table. Slowly, thoughtfully I deposited my mum’s pearl earrings and Charles’s gold band next to it with an ache in my chest.
“Guess this is it.” I choked on those emotions I never imagined I would feel right now. I’d been so sure of my calling.
“Oh, ma girl,” Dad said, laying a trembling arthritic hand on my cheek, his brogue thickened by the emotion of the brief ceremony. “Ye’ve really done it. Ye’re a Traveler, true as Mary.”
“But is that good or bad?” I whispered, throat tight and eyes blurring, trying not to regret my choice.
“It’s good,” he said with forced cheer. “What yer doin’. The things ye’ll fix.”
I shrugged. The Paradox Bureau was new after all, the science of time-skeins still sketchy. I might be risking my life to find I made history worse.
“We’ll see,” I said, sounding so much like Mum I wanted to cry.
“You’ll look great in this though,” he said, touching the neatly folded sequined dress they’d issued me.
I attempted a smile but ended up somewhere between skeptical and sad.
“Not really my style, though,” I murmured as I took it behind the tiny dressing screen, shucked my Cadet’s uniform and donned the flapper dress and silk hose.
When I returned his grey eyes were mistier than a foggy mountain heath as he said. “A brave heart never goes out of style, lass.”
250 relative space timely-wimely words
Liam stood in the center of the monstrous closet—a closet for a king that was absolutely larger than his studio apartment—and noted that while it was by no means full, there were definitely clothes meant for him. He recognized his own “broke grad student” wardrobe hanging isolated from far newer and more expensive clothes.
“How did my stuff get here?”
“I had your apartment cleared out and everything brought here the day of the assassinations.”
“You did?” He swung around to face Ben. “Why?”
“Comfort. Familiarity. Shit like that.”
Liam reared back as something deep blue and expensive looking swam into his field of view.
“What’s this?” He lifted one eyebrow at the suit hanging from Ben’s fingers.
He looked around said suit to Ben.
“I can see that much.”
“Well, I wasn’t sure.” Ben smirked. “You wore shorts and a tank top to your undergrad graduation.”
“What the hell, Ben?” Liam’s cheeks burned. “Not even my mom knew that.”
“Your mom wasn’t your bodyguard?” Ben waved the suit. “C’mon. You’ll look great in this.”
“Are you dressing me now, too?”
“More like I know your tendency to get lost in your brain and fall into a paralytic trance.” Ben shoved the hanger at him. “Left to your own devices, you’ll end up greeting the court in your boxers.”
“I would prefer not to greet them at all.”
“You and me both, Highness.” Ben sighed as Liam took the hanger. “You and me both.”
249 Royal WIP words
#ThursThreads Week 428 is now CLOSED. Thanks to everyone who wrote this week and I hope to catch you next week.