#ThursThreads – Tying Tales Together – Week 506

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 506 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 506:

Eric Martell 21

Scientist, Dad, and flash fiction author, Eric Martell.

Facebook | Twitter |

And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.

The Prompt:

“How tough would that be?”

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 506”

  1. Penetrating Glances

    I led the way. Frank climbed up after me. Henry Samuels protected our flank. I couldn’t see any cameras but that didn’t mean much. Solly likely had set tripwires, but I was banking on stealth. Once we were on the landing, the way was set. There was a small, enclosed hallway and then the door.

    “Do we break it down?” Frank whispered.

    “Makes sense,” Henry murmured. “How tough would that be?”

    Being a practical guy, I hissed back to both of them, “I plan to turn the knob first.”

    I gave it a twist.


    “Plan B,” said Henry, improvising readily. He then kicked the sucker in.

    We rushed inside.

    I had to hand it to Solly. His apartment was a sweet deal. Huge. The rear entryway we crashed into led to a large anteroom. We quickly determined no one was in that part of the suite.

    Beyond was an open concept living room dining room kitchen, again empty.

    Frank had been trailing me and Henry but suddenly he found a burst of ex-husbandly speed. He sped to what I imagine he thought was a bedroom.

    He burst in and yelled Terry…
    It was a good guess.

    Terry Kane was strapped to the bed, partially clothed, gagged, and clearly frightened.

    Ex-husbands will do that, I thought, somewhat acoustically.

    Frank ungagged her and we all three loosed the bonds.

    “Where’s Solly? I asked as we unraveled her.

    “Where do you think?” I heard Solly say from behind us.

    249 WIP

  2. It was a tempting proposal. Not like she had anything going for her right now anyway. After the collapse of her last relationship, she wasn’t exactly eager to head back to the States either.

    “What do you say, mija?”

    She looked between her grandmother and the lawyer. It’d been so long since she saw her grandmother this excited – invigorated, even. And the prospect of staying in Colombia a little longer only seemed to make her happier.

    “How tough would that be, renovating the whole property?” As enticing as the romantic estate was, she knew better than to assume it would be easy. She met the lawyer’s gaze with serious eyes. “And don’t sugar-coat it. It’s clear our late cousin hadn’t set foot there since the fire.”

    “The house’s structure is solid, the surrounding grounds fertile.” He shrugged. “With the right crew, I imagine it wouldn’t take longer than six months.” He seemed confident, and, as a local, he would know. After a smile, he looked at his phone. “You don’t have to answer right away, if you need some more time to think about it. In the meantime, I can look into whatever permits you may need to get the work started.”

    She let him go with the promise to call in two days with a decision. Though deep down she’d already made up her mind. Something inside her needed to do this, felt a strange connection to the rundown house.

    “It’ll be an adventure!”

    Her grandmother’s joy was contagious.

    250 untitled WIP words

  3. *Possibly NSFW reading*

    Corlith, Prince of the Goblins, winced as he stopped, reaching down to adjust his package which seemed engorged even though he’d just finished jacking off.

    “Are you all right?” Roxanne felt sorry for the guy if the Goddess was to be believed.

    Perpetual Blue Balls would suck.

    He shrugged, a faint smile curling his lips. “No, and won’t be for another sixty years or so, but thanks for asking.”

    “Sixty years?” Ambrose’s expression crumbled into sympathy. “How did you come to be in this predicament?”

    “Coming was the problem.” Corlith grimaced. “I was cursed by a demoness to have Perpetual Blue Balls for a century or more because she wasn’t my best lay.” He scowled. “So much for being honest.”

    “And jacking off doesn’t help?” Roxanne winced.

    Corlith shook his head. “Briefly, but then the strain comes back two-fold for a couple of days.”

    “So what you just did actually makes you feel worse for a few days?” Empathy surged in Roxanne’s chest.

    Oh my glory, how tough would that be to live with that? Shit-oh-dear, that’d be agony.

    “Yeah, it’s not a picnic.” The Goblin prince shook his head. “Want to know the best part? There’s a way to break the curse.”

    She frowned. “Why do I sense ‘best’ is in quotes?”

    Corlith shot her a dark smile. “I can break the curse if I find a gryphon, a mythical beast that is more rare than humans, and find my true love.”

    241 ineligible #Sirens words

  4. “What is it you want us to do?” Tank asked.

    “Blow up the bridge.”

    Silence followed before Dalton asked, “How tough would that be?”

    The big explosives expert checked the small amount of available C4 then studied the structure with a knowing eye. “We might be whistling in the dark but there’s a chance.”

    Dalton glanced back at the group he now secretly called the Ukrainian Irregulars. These men and women were part of a civilian defense force. They’d stayed behind to help refugees, like the ones huddled in the woods higher up the mountain, and to defend their beloved country. Most of them were young and he couldn’t help but think about Red Dawn, the movie about America getting invaded and a group of high school kids turning into guerrilla fighters up in the Rocky Mountains. He liked the original version with Patrick Swayze. He grinned. “Then lets get this done.”

    Two hours. Kin heard them first—the muffled diesel engires and the squeaking treads of the tanks. Everyone hunkered down to finish waiting.

    As the first tank in the column neared the end of the bridge, Tank pressed the little box in his massive hand. At first, nothing happened and then… It started with a rumble. The lead tank stopped. Heads popped out of turret and driver hatches. In slow motion, the bridge shuddered. Swayed. Crumbled. Tanks plummeted into the gorge.

    The Ukrainians cheered and Dalton raised a triumphant fist, yelling, “Wolverines!”

    Tank gave him the side-eye. “Seriously?”
    250 Hard Target: Crossfire WIP words

  5. “Why doesn’t she just go talk to him; how tough would that be?”
    “Are you kidding? Do you know what that man put her through?” I answered.
    “But Melanie just moved here. What are you talking about? Dillon doesn’t know her,” Petra asked.
    “Melanie dated Dillon, lived with him even. She treated him like gold but what did she get in return? She got first verbal abuse. He cut her off from her friends then he insisted she was looking at other guys attracting their attention when she protested, he beat her. She made excuses for him and told no one. Then the broken bones came…”
    “Why isn’t he in jail?”
    “The lawyer got him community service and expunged record. We’re not going to talk to him. We’ll find the money somehow,” I stated.
    “Who is Melanie talking to?”
    “Whoa that’s Dillon’s mom.”
    Melanie walked across the floor and stood in front of me holding out a check.
    “This is for the rec center. The bank’s opening until eight, it’s only seven you better go before Helen changes her mind.”
    That’s when Dillon crossed the floor and raised his hand as if to hit Melanie. Melanie took him down to the floor, his arms tight behind his back. A security guard escorted Dillon out said another guard was holding him for the cops. Melanie looked at Helen and said let him go. I wish she hadn’t. Melanie was killed last night. I hope the lawyer doesn’t get him off.
    249 words

  6. TIME

    Alexa removed the diamond studs from her ears. She put them in the small box the guard had given her then gave it back with a frown. He promised to keep them safe until she was ready to take them back. He was a kind man, one of the few to treat her like a woman, the pressure of his hand on her arm a reassurance, not a threat. The other guards were just uniforms, their batons and handcuffs equally a part of them as the bars were of the doors that would close behind her. She would never call her cell her home – she would endure it with a quiet grace until she returned to the world.

    The guard gave her new clothes. They were heavy. The canvas was already stained, the material stiffened with an abundance of starch. Her underwear was a mottled grey with worn hems; larger than she’d usually wear, the inmates’ outfitter exercising her power over those she served. She probably laughed at their discomfort every day. There were a thousand ways to apply pressure to the imprisoned, to increase the stresses upon them until they broke.

    And yet, she still had hope. She had someone outside who would wait for her. She’d promised she’d keep a place in her life for her until she returned. How tough would that be? She didn’t know. She hoped the days would blur and run into one.

    Time was an illusion. It would be a test.

    250 words including title – twothirdsrasta.blogspot.com

  7. Sword was worried. He knew Rose was traveling through the forest by herself.

    He had made that trip from the ocean to the lake to visit Rose. He knew about the bears, wolves, and snakes. About having to sleep in the trees, hoping to not fall out. About having to find nuts and berries to eat. He knew he was safe on that trip because the Wild Magic that gave him swords that extended from his hands. He could defend himself from any beast that attacked him.

    Rose didn’t have such weapons. She would not be safe, like he had been. Sword was so worried he went to see his mother, Princess Oceana, to talk about what Rose was doing.

    Oceana was concerned too. She knew how much Rose meant to Sword. “Let’s call the White Witch, and speak with her.” Oceana called on her magic, and projected an image of herself and Sword above the lake in the forest. “White Witch? Are you there? We must speak about Rose.”

    Mystica saw them, and had the White Magic send an image of her to the kingdom under the ocean. “I see Rose was correct. You do know she is coming.”

    “Yes. And knowing how dangerous the forest is, we are greatly concerned for her safety.”

    “Please. Just wait. Let her make the trip, so you can know who she really is. I know her. She is perfectly safe.”

    Oceana and Sword agreed to wait. How tough would that be?

    249 Words

  8. “If I wanted to scan you too, how tough would that be?” Dr. Murray swiveled from her display to face Jacqueline. “Your girlfriend’s cells are completely irradiated.”

    “WHAT!?” Jacqueline sprang from her seat. “Why wouldn’t the hospital have caught that?!”

    “Oh, it’s not that kind of radiation,” Dr. Murray waved Jacqueline back down while pressing a button on her control panel. “That’s all, Jill; you can rejoin us now.”

    Jill rebuttoned her jeans as she stepped around the corner from the exam chamber. A cataclysmic klaxon flooding the scientific warehouse decided Jacqueline’s next question.

    “What is that!?”

    Jacqueline resisted the urge to cover her own ears so she could focus on calming Jill. They didn’t need her having another episode right now. Dr. Murray rose to her feet, more intrigued than alarmed.

    “We’re going into lockdown. You two better follow me to the safe room.”

    “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” Jacqueline imagined Jill in an enclosed space during a stressful event.

    “Don’t worry; we have safeguards for our safeguards! You two will be fine!”

    Laborers and technicians fled for the far corner as Dr. Murray led the college girls down the steel stairs to the warehouse floor. A horrible overhead crunch barely preceded a truck plummeting toward the women along with steel beams.

    Jill held Jacqueline and Dr. Murray to her core in one hand with her other arm raised protectively as she surged to fifty-five feet in height through the hole in the roof.

    248 PRUDENT words

  9. No one messed with Peder’s territory or else they’d hear from him. Sure, his natural aquatic shape was a leafy sea dragon, but as a shifter not limited to one form, he greeted enemies with far worse.

    Human, he stood over six feet tall. Lovers of mythology compared him to a god of the sea. He reined with love and a fierce protection.

    Serena admired Peder’s deceiving laid-back attitude as he body surfed toward the shore. He maneuvered through the breaking waves then coasted on the white water. When the water grew shallow, he quickly popped to his feet. His green trunks hung low on his hips, showcasing his tanned, cut abs. Her gaze rose, taking in his sculpted chest, broad shoulders and the moment he saw her watching – wide smile. With a toss of his head, he flicked back the long, strawberry blond bangs.

    He’d let his hair grow out over the last few months, and oh how she loved to play with it. Now, she appreciated the tickle of his locks as he leaned over and kissed her.

    “Sand dollar for your thoughts?” He twirled his wrist like a magician, and viola magically conjured a shell.

    “Maybe you can spend tonight with me.” She ran her fingers over his glistening arm.

    Giving up being the godfather of the sea was impossible. Too many entities relied upon Peder for safety. Serena had responsibilities to her family and the Nightshade Guild.

    “One night,” she said. “How tough would that be?”

    250 words

  10. Staring at the house I grew up visiting every day after school, after church, for meals, I realize it’s mine, now. Grandma’s gone now, and I’ve inherited her house. And boy do we have a lot of work to do. This poor thing is stuck in the past, with orange and pink psychedelic wallpaper, green 70s shag carpet, and harvest gold appliances. The one blessing is all the woodwork is original and Grandma polished it daily.

    “Well, here’s the keys.” Grandma’s panda charm still dangles from the front door key. “Guess we’ll have to talk about fixing the place up a bit. Mom left you some money for improvements, but knowing you, it will take twice that.”

    “Staying in a budget…how tough would that be?” I smirk at Dad, and he rolls his eyes.

    The sun hits an orange spot of wallpaper and we both flinch. Dad sighs, eyes misting a bit. He loves telling stories of growing up in this house. He and Mom built their house a few hundred feet away, so he and Dad could farm together. I’m not interested in college, so I’m going to live here, a few hundred feet away from my folks and farm with Dad.

    “Well, let’s get a plan drawn up.”

    We settle at Grandma’s table and Dad pulls out his drafting paper.

    222 words

  11. #ThursThreads is now CLOSED. Thanks to everyone who wrote this week and I hope to catch you next week.

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