Welcome back to the home of Paranormal & Dauntless Romance. 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 482 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 482:
Programmer by day, writer by night, Katheryn J. Avila.
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And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.
“That’s a promise.”
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!
10 Replies to “#ThursThreads – Tying Tales Together – Week 482”
“Take care of her.” Tears streamed down the woman’s cheeks as she shoved the sleeping child into my arms.
“As if she were our own until the day you can join us. That’s a promise.” My sire forced the words through my mouth, but I would because she wanted it of me.
I let the dark carry us away. The cavern we emerged into smelled musty, and a safety panel glowed green at the stairs— no one had entered above; this was my sire’s emergency bunker, and she was staying with the humans as they tried to use vampirism to save themselves from the virus.
“Alright, little one. It’s just us for a while. What am I supposed to do with you?”
I’ve been fourteen for three centuries. I never had a maternal instinct in my entire unlife, and here I was saddled with a kid until her parents learned to manage their thirst.
It would be so easy to just say “oops” and have a snack. Easier yet to leave her with some humans and enough cash to get by.
No; I’m honor bound. My word is my bond and all that shit.
If she were my own, what would I do?
Ah, yes. I rematerialized upstairs in the library and grabbed my sire’s ancient grimoire. If the child is older, she’ll be easier to have a conversation with and far less fragile. I would like a friend who can’t run away when they see my fangs.
Mick ducked and while the glass of Guinness missed him, its contents didn’t. He was both shocked and amused at the vehemence of Shannon’s temper. This was a side of her he’d never seen. She was one of the most level-headed, unflappable females he’d ever encountered. But this screaming harpy? He didn’t know whether to kiss her or run for his life.
“How dare you walk in here with lipstick smeared on your face and reeking of another woman’s perfume.” She reached for another missile—a heavy mug this time, but Finn, the bartender, snatched it away first. She glowered at him before returning her attention to Mick.
“You’re a right fine box of bullock balls,” she snarled. “If you weren’t already castrated I’d volunteer for the job.”
Her Irish was truly up and Mick fought to contain his delight. “My balls are in fine fettle and I’ll be showin’ you just how fine come quittin’ time.”
“Come quittin’ time you’ll be off with one of yer fancy hags with no time for a workin’ girl like me.”
Mick sobered as he and his inner wolf noted the hurt in her eyes. Ronan should have kicked his arse harder because his brother had the truth of it. Shannon was his mate. “Only you now, luv. That’s a promise.”
“Don’t make promises you won’t keep.” She’d muttered the words but his preternatural hearing heard them just fine.
“Your mine, Shannon, now and always.”
“Promises, promises,” she snarled as he kissed her.
250 Moonstruck Mafia Wolves WIP words
Mike chuckled as he squeezed Amanda around the waist.
“What’s so funny?”
They sat down to their reception meal with Val and Sierra, and did their level best to keep the food from hitting the girls’ dresses.
“I was just thinking of Mr. Tisdale’s visit and how he definitely didn’t get what he wanted.”
Amanda smiled and shook her head. “He was persistent that day. Too bad my assistant couldn’t find any open times in my schedule until after our wedding.” She shrugged but her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Guess he’s too late now.”
“Damn right, he is.” Mike leaned over and kissed her cheek. “And he won’t be getting anywhere near you romantically. That’s a promise now that I’m your husband, even temporarily.”
“You’re still okay with that deal? You really are doing me a favor.”
He reached over to squeeze her hand. “Okay doesn’t begin to cover it. I’m happy to help. And you’re doing me a favor, too. The new truck is nice and the help with all Sierra’s school fees and supplies is a godsend.”
“I’m happy to do it.” She squeezed back. “Plus I kinda like spending the evenings with you talking about mundane stuff like homework, what to make for dinner, and who’s picking up the kids.”
“Weird, right? So domestic.” He laughed. “I like it, too. And if I didn’t tell you already, you look absolutely stunning. Thanks for asking me to marry you.”
She kissed his cheek. “Thanks for accepting.”
248 ineligible #WIP500 words
That’s A Promise, 246 words by Joseph P. Garland, @JPGarlandAuthor
It was raining. I found the water hitting the windows comforting. It was not so dense that I couldn’t see the lake. It was 11:12 by my phone. I’d been in her cabin for just over fifteen hours and while I was standing naked looking out down to the lake, she was in the bathroom.
The cabin was on her parents’ estate, and she was to be at the main house at noon. Normally I’d be at the monthly combination of lunch and business. During cocktails the night before, my politeness could be mistaken for making a pass at his wife. That, at least, was how he saw it.
Me, the accountant who knew the books like no one else was out the door without getting the chance to finish my half-full glass of very good Scotch.
“You’re a smart guy. Figure out how you get home,” he said, loudly sprinkling in some expletives.
I had my phone, but there was no signal. All my clothes but the suit I wore were in my room in the south wing.
It wasn’t raining yet, and I started the long walk into town. I heard a crunch on the drive, and to my left she came. She handed me a key. “I’ll come to see you. That’s a promise,” she whispered, and her lips and maybe her teeth ran across my ear. “He’s not your boss anymore so I’m not the boss’s daughter.” And she went back in.
Grimshaw and two of his associates took me to the Federal Building, sat me down, and had me account for all the details of my search for Henry Samuels.
“You’re working for a kid, peeper? What’s she paying you with? Her Allowance?”
I didn’t hold anything back. The more I looked at it, the more I realized that whatever was going on with Henry Samuels was way out of my league. Wanting to find a missing father for a teen might be a noble quest but maybe she was better off without him.
After three hours of grilling, they left me alone with my pointless thoughts for about twenty minutes. Then Grimshaw returned and said, “Beat it. And stay out of it.”
I gave some thought to taking his advice about beating it, but I had to take a stand somewhere. “Okay, I’m out of it…but I have a young client and I need to get back to her and make an accounting.”
That set Grimshaw off again. “Out of it means just that. You go near that kid, and I’ll bring down the full force of government on your pointed head. That’s a promise, peeper.”
I clammed up. Listening to Grimshaw bellow was exhausting. As much as he irritated me, I sympathized with the knowledge that he had lost an agent.
Old Undercover Zeke.
“Okay. I hear you.”
I left, caught a cab, picked up my car, went home.
Tomorrow, I would risk Grimshaw’s wrath.
I stood tall dressed in my finery. Looking around it looked like a pretty good turnout. I looked around and saw people gathering around the table. They were filling their mouths laughing and guzzling drinks. I wasn’t hungry and I didn’t feel much like company; but it was my duty and I was here.
My friend, Georgia sat down near me and asked, “How are you?”
“Can I get you anything?” she asked.
“Do you think any of these people want to be here?”
“No. they look like they are here for the free food,”
Georgia suppressed a laugh.
I looked around again like he would appear.
“He’s not coming. You won’t see him again. I’m sorry,” Georgia muttered.
“ Peter said he’d see me again that’s a promise.”
“Laura, he loved you; but it’s impossible.”
The whole room began to twitter and sputter as a man stepped into view.
I heard “She didn’t!”
“Laura, I don’t understand,” Peter cried.
“Come my love,” I said as I took him to the table.
He feasted and drank and was renewed.
“Laura Butkovitz, you have violated the law. How do you plead?” Siegfried the queen’s courtier demanded.
“She pleads not guilty. I am the Queen and I gave her permission, therefore, she did not violate anything.
“But she made a Vampire!!”
“It is done; do not question it.”
“Yes, my queen.”
It was done and my best friend helped me. We could be together forever.
“Are you coming or not?”
Tondra hasn’t moved from the corner of her cell and all I’ve gotten out of her is her name.
“Look,” I sigh. “More spirits will be here soon. I want to be gone before that and I’d rather not go alone.”
Blasting the doors off our cells and our jailor into the wall had felt good. I’d like to finish the jailor off, but I don’t know how my fellow prisoner would react. I try a different tack.
“What’s your power? You saw mine.”
“Wind and fire? We’re a winning combination!” I grin.
“They took my chair,” she chews the words bitterly.
I glance at the open door to our cell block.
“Those jerks! You want me to look for it? It’s probably nearby.”
Tondra’s face brightens with a revelatory expression. She whistles and then listens. I can’t hear what she’s listening for, but I felt the magic in the whistle. Another whistle and I hear the clatter of wooden wheels over stone. An elegantly carved sturdy wheelchair blows satisfyingly over our prone jailor. I laugh and step out of the way as the chair swerves to a stop next to Tondra.
“And we’re off?”
As Tondra transitions to her wheelchair, she studies me critically.
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“I don’t know about trust, but I hate spirits enough that as long as it’s us versus them I won’t do anything to compromise our side. That’s a promise.”
250 The Ice Queen words
“He told me he’ll still be here. He’s not going away. Not going to kill himself. Nothing like that.” I sighed, and stared at Lilly. “He said, ‘That’s a promise.’”
Lilly shook her head, and looked down the hallway to his study, “But he lives in that room, and nowhere else.”
“I know.” I smiled. “That’s how he copes with the world.” I looked down the hallway to his study, “That’s where he hides.”
“Where he goes, when he can’t cope anymore. When he’s overwhelmed. He goes there, and he hides, while he sorts through everything, so he can cope with everything when he comes out.”
I knew she didn’t understand, and that she’d say something. “Like a little child.”
I knew I’d answer her. “No. Not at all. Like a grown man.”
“Yes. Another man would throw things. Another man would get drunk. Or get high. Or come home drunk every night. Another man would get his gun, and go shoot everyone. Or drive his car into a tree, or off a cliff.” I smiled. “He doesn’t do those things. He puts himself in time out, until he works through things, and when he’s ready, he comes out.”
“Yes. And he helps me. Washes dishes, does laundry, vacuums, sweeps, mops, goes grocery shopping with me. Just like he said. He’s not going anywhere. Just like he promised. He’ll still be here.”
#ThursThreads Week 482 is now CLOSED. Thanks to everyone who wrote this week and I hope to catch you next week. 🙂