#ThursThreads – Tying Tales Together – Week 527

Welcome back to the home of Paranormal & Dauntless Romance. Wow. Year 10. A whole decade. I’m astounded.

Today is Thursday and that means it’s time to start flashing, like we have for 10 whole years. It’s amazing we’ve gone this long! This is Week 527 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 527:

Speculative romance author and ray of sunshine in a dystopian hellscape, Nicola Cameron. Also, she likes pie.

Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | 

And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.

The Prompt:

“You’re going to pay for that.”

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!

14 Replies to “#ThursThreads – Tying Tales Together – Week 527”

  1. As first dates go, this was going very, very well. I’ve had enough experience with dating sites to have very low expectations. With Sarah Hobbes, though, after a few calls and photo exchanges—she was genuinely out-of-my-league gorgeous—we’d agreed to meet for drinks at a upscale place in Williamsburg, about midway between our two places.

    We sat at a small table across from the bar, two Scotches in, when she brought up “maybe getting something to eat” and corny as it seems, I lifted her hand and placed my lips lightly on it.

    “Be right back,” she said, as she slowly extracted her hand from mine. I watched her sashay to the ladies and I, well, I “reacted” to the view.

    While I waited, Denise Johnson tapped me on the shoulder. Denise, so you know, was one of those dates that didn’t go that well. I’d made a snide comment about a gay couple at the other end of the bar, which happened to be the bar in this particular upscale place in Williamsburg, and she walked out.

    “Remember what I told you?” she asked, now standing, holding the back of Sarah’s chair, and looking down at me.

    “That ‘you’re going to pay for that’?”

    “Bingo,” she said. “You’re not so stupid after all.”

    Sarah was suddenly beside Denise.

    She smiled. “Actually, I’d rather have something off the menu.” She reached for Denise’s hand and with a laugh the pair sashayed out to Bedford Avenue.

    An Upscale Place on Bedford Avenue, @JPGarlandAuthor, 246 words

  2. Temujin had held his own, taking three adult men with him before he succumbed to his wounds. She knelt beside the boy, scanning his body for any signs of life, but he lay still as the dead invaders around him.

    “Oh, Temujin, I’m so sorry.” She bowed her head. “I should’ve been here to help.”

    A sound made her glance up and she realized he’d been defending an iron door to a stone room in the center of the house. The door flew open and a small body launched at her, screaming a war cry.

    “Die, Knalish dog!”

    Iliana lurched to her feet and met the sword flying at her head with her dagger and a shriek of steel. She pivoted to step over the bodies and watched her opponent. It took her precious seconds and a flurry of defensive moves to realize her opponent was Naomi, her face twisted in anger and grief.

    “Whoa, wait. Naomi, it’s—”

    “You’re going to pay for that death; for all the deaths!” Naomi ignored her and pressed on until Iliana disarmed her and bumped her to the floor. “Go ahead and kill me, you coward, but I swear on my grandmother’s grave, I will haunt you through the nine worlds and beyond!”

    “Naomi, it’s me, Rory.” Iliana sheathed her sword and removed the silk from her face before she knelt beside the girl. “It’s Master Rory. See?”

    Naomi blinked, her eyes growing wide. “Master Rory? Oh sweet Goddess, thank goodness you’re here!”

    250 ineligible #IvoryRoad words
    @SiobhanMuir

  3. “Did you wish he was dead? Or that he would die? Or that someone would shoot him and…” The speaker paused, and examined the top sheet of paper in a stack. “Put him out of our misery? Yes, I do believe that’s how you phrased it.”

    I stared at my feet, which were sunk ankle deep into the fluffy white ground. “You seem to have a record of everything I’ve ever said.” The ground obviously wasn’t grass and dirt. “May I ask a question?”

    The speaker paused, and looked at the twelve people sitting in two rows, inside a little enclosed area, then at the rather huge, bearded being behind an equally huge, ornate desk. The being nodded.

    “Where am I?”

    The speaker laughed. So did the twelve. When the speaker stopped laughing, he informed me, “This is the court of the afterlife Here, we decide what you will do to help people on Earth, and in the kingdom, to pay for being an ass while you were on Earth.”

    “What?”

    “Oh, you are guaranteed eternal life in heaven. That’s how the Jesus bit works. But, you do have to learn that your actions have consequences. Here, we review your actions, and decide what those consequences are.”

    He looked at the stack of papers, and nodded his head, “It will take a lot of 40 hour work weeks but, you’re going to pay for that.”

    “This is not what I thought would happen.”

    “That’s what they all say.”

    248 Words
    @mysoulstears

  4. Maura jerked around as the door to her office slammed shut. Alex, all but foaming at the mouth, stalked across the floor, his footsteps silent on the government-grade carpet. She raised her chin and braced herself. Her boss had a mean temper and he’d raked her over the coals more than once when they butted heads over a case but today he appeared almost deranged. She didn’t back down as he got right up in her face and she gripped the sides of her tailored slacks to keep from shoving him away.

    “What the hell did you think you were doing!” It wasn’t a question so she remained quiet. “You stupid cunt. You’ve probably ruined the case we’ve built against Tommy Gallagher’s murderer.”

    “All the evidence is circumstantial. You have no means, no motive, no weapon. In fact, the medical examiner’s report says that Gallagher was killed by an animal. The man you arrested does not own a dog. And he has an alibi.”

    Alex got even closer but he was so agnry no words came out when he tried to speak. A small part of her brain wondered if he was having a stroke. Spittle flew from his mouth as he slapped her. She gagged when it landed on her face. With supreme calm and control, she pulled his immaculately folded handkerchief from his suit coat pocket and wiped her face.

    Neither of them realized they were no longer alone until Ronan O’Conner spoke. “You’re going to pay for that.”
    ****
    250 Moonstruck Mafia: Boston Wolves WIP words (I go where the inspiration takes me!)
    @SilverJames_

  5. Walking across the floor to start the treaty signing, I fell, ass over tea kettle.
    “You’re going to pay for that, Captain,” my second in command also my husband whispered.
    I was all ready feeling a bruise on my hip and shin forming. There had been a slippery substance on the floor. The Icarian ambassador stifled a laugh and I hated him at that moment. The Jarokians smiled broadly at me almost in sympathy with their two mouths and their three pairs of eyes.
    “Captain Walker I expected better of you.” The Icarian, Gregarious stated.
    Before I could respond my security chief Lieutenant Nialon Feldon asked., “Captain Walker may I have a moment?”
    “Excuse me,” I said.
    “Captain the Jarokians are here under false pretenses, intelligence says they we are already attacking the Icarians’ home planet. We have apprehended the group that was to kill everyone here, but there may still be an assassin at large.”
    I turned and saw my husband shoot the Icarians ambassador and his party dead. Nialon advanced on Henri his phaser on kill and I pulled mine out and shot Nialon just missing Henri.
    “You were right Magda. It pulled them in the Icarians felt safer, because you slipped.”
    “Thank-you Captain Walker you have fulfilled your duty. This computer program will save your world from extinction,” The Icarian ambassador said handing me a flash drive.
    I had saved our world at the cost of another’s world, what kind of person did that make me?
    249 words
    @SweetSheil

  6. “I do hope you’re going to pay for that.”

    The woman was self-assured and undoubtedly at peace. She dressed in an old-fashioned way but still had class. She looked as though she was at ease here, unphased by the gaze of the CCTV cameras and the floodlights shining from all directions.

    “I don’t know,” I said, putting it back on the shelf. “It’s not anything I really want.”

    The woman sighed. She picked up the jar I’d put down and twisted off its lid.

    “It’s a favourite of mine,” she said. “I love the raspberries. My husband used to have them grown for me when we lived together in Scotland. I love its sharp fruit flavours but not its seeds. They get stuck between my dentures, and they do vex me so.” She looked haunted by her memories and the emotions they raised.

    She was an old lady, standing alone in the glare of the lights. A survivor who’d persisted when others she’d known had failed.

    She reminded me of a postage stamp when I saw her from one side.

    A security guard appeared. And then another. A man with a police band radio and a Bluetooth earpiece whispering commands. The woman I’d seen was elderly but mischievous in her way. They escorted her away quickly in a cordon of muscle and steel.

    I wondered what would happen to her: they seemed to know her well, whoever she was.

    I believe one of them called her Lilibet before they left.

    250 regal words – twothirdzrasta.blogspot,com

  7. “You’re going to pay for that.”

    “That” was the touching she’d done earlier in the day. She hadn’t come close (well, not *that* close) to touching, y’know, there, but her hands on my legs, my arms, my shoulders was enough. Just being with her was a turn-on. Being touched was a dream.

    But there were appointments and obligations. Other people to see. People we hadn’t told yet, people we didn’t want to know, not yet. What we had was too new, too undefined, to share, even with friends. Besides, it’s a thrill, isn’t it, when only the two of you know? When it’s a secret that ties you together in a world all your own?

    Everyone else had gone home, eventually, their extended departures a slow torture.

    I hoped no one noticed how excited I was for them to leave.

    Maybe it was the touching she’d done earlier. Maybe it was the alcohol consumed with friends. Maybe it was her smile or her hair or the way she looked at me when no one else was around.

    Maybe I was falling for her, fast and deeply, over my head from the word go.

    She sat on the floor in front of me, her hair brushed to the left, exposing the curve of her neck and her ear. I traced a finger down the back of her neck, the air crackling and her moan escaping without thought. I wanted to do this all night. Just this. She’d pay, alright.

    249 words
    @drmag00

  8. “You’re going to pay for that.”

    The merchant’s voice had a menacing edge as Tara walked away from his cart. She turned to face him, considering the sweet bread in her paw.

    “If that were true, I think I would have already done it.”

    The elf stepped around his cart, dangling one end of a sturdy nunchaku. The bucolic bustle of the open-air market flowed on around them.

    “This isn’t one of your kind’s backwater villages or some city slum. Here, you must give something in return for anything you take.”

    Tara locked her fiery green eyes on the merchant’s dull amber ones and took a slow, deliberate bite of the sweet bread. She chewed thoughtfully, watching the vein in his temple twitch.

    “We don’t tolerate thieves around here!” He snapped. “Let alone dirty half-breed ones!”

    Two peace officers emerged from the market, drawing their sword breakers. Two? That seemed excessive.

    “What’s the trouble here?” The lady officer asked, already eyeing Tara.

    Tara proffered the pilfered pastry with a sigh, then shoved the whole thing in her mouth.

    “She stole that!”

    Impressively, the merchant kept from shrieking. The three elves encircled Tara, weapons raised. She let the blade of her rope dart slip from her sleeve.

    She had almost finished cleaning the blood from her weapon when Brother Hodaka appeared at her side.

    “Sister, what have you been up to?”

    Tara smiled sharply at her austere associate.

    “Oh, you know. Taking unnecessary risks and endangering the cause.”

    247 Cat’s The Pajamas words
    @DavidALudwig

  9. “Don’t touch her.” Jasper grit his teeth, and his dark eyes grew even more cloudy. “You’re going to pay for that.”

    “Oh, look who’s the big guy now,” my stepdad mimicked slugging Jasper again.

    While my defender struggled against the two goons holding him, it didn’t get him anywhere.

    “Take him away. I’ll deal with him later.”

    The thugs dragged him to the door. One pounded on it with a closed fist, and the outer guards unlocked it to let them out. Yeah, this fortress had multiple layers of lockdown. Escaping once was near impossible. A second time? He’d instated even more safeguards. Safe. What a joke.

    With everyone gone, that left Davis and I alone in the room. He stalked to the windows, holding onto the bars and gazing out over the compound. I knew the view all too well.

    With him lost in his own thoughts, I categorized everything in my room that potentially might be used as a weapon. Hair curlers? I didn’t even have an iron to heat up and blast him with. No lamps. Everything was either recessed or sconces. How have I never realized it before? He didn’t even allow me hardbacks, which might give him a good whack on the head.

    I should have had Jasper give me some type of weapon to stash. No amount of hindsight would make a difference at this point.

    Davis was desperate to stay in control, but how long had he been planning this kidnapping?

    248 words
    @LouisaBacio

  10. Craig glared at the man he had come to defeat. The two circled around each other, each waiting for the other to strike. He soon yelled at his opponent, “Why are we always fighting Spencer?! We could have been friends, could have been allies!”

    “Allies? It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?” Spencer retorted, “After all, someone had to put your father in his place!”

    With that, rage boiled over in Craig, “You bastard! You’re going to pay for that!” He screamed as he drew his sword and charged at Spencer. Spencer calmly waited for the oncoming attack. Craig slashed and thrusted, growing frustrated and weary as Spencer easily parried all of his attacks. After Craig’s onslaught, Spencer finally decided to strike, planning all of his slashes carefully. Craig tried to block, but he was just too weak. As he took his final breaths, he heard Spencer standing over him saying, “Say hi to your father for me.”

    The big, red letters filled Craig’s TV screen, giving him those dreaded words, “Game Over.” Craig cursed as he dragged his mouse down to the “Try Again” button. “Maybe I’ll get it this time,” he muttered to himself.

    Twitter: @EchoTheCall
    Word Count: 199

  11. Memories Will Haunt You.

    “I don’t feel so good.”

    “I tried to warn you,” the older man chided. “Actions have consequences.”

    “I understand that our worlds aren’t that different from each other.”

    “Son, there’s a big difference between our worlds. The stakes are higher, the dangers go deeper than the law, and the enemies you make have a very long memory.”

    “But, it needed to be done.”

    “I ain’t arguing with you, none but you brought this one on yourself.”

    “But, Mardi Gras, Carnival, Laissez les bons temps rouler.”

    “Yeah, eat your heart out on baked goods and all the things you keep out of your larder during the lenten season,” the older man agreed. “Dat’s what Fat Tuesday is all about, but you took it a might further than that.”

    The younger man froze, his eyes narrowing as he tried to remember the night before. “I drank something.”

    “You drank a lot of something, and then you drank a lot of something else.”

    “And then I…”

    Cal nodded as the younger man sifted through his memories and tried to untangle them, but they were like a banyan tree, twisted, tangled, protecting him and tripping him up at the same time.

    The younger man’s eyes widened and Cal handed him a bucket and held it for him as he lost the contents of his stomach.

    “I ate a… Wendigo?”

    “You ate a vengeance demon,” Cal clarified. “Believe me, you’re going to pay for that.”

    He shook his head. “No way you live this down.”

    @mishmhem
    250 words, not including title

  12. Dark Nights

    There I was, standing under a street light. Fortunately, the damn bulb burnt out just before Grayson took a potshot at me.
    “You’re gonna pay for that,” I yelled from the darkness.
    “It’d be worth it, peeper. You’re bothering me and I am tired of being hot and bothered.”
    “Then give yourself up. Take your medicine..”
    He went quiet then.
    “There might be an amnesty,” I suggested.
    “I ain’t no Billy the Kid. No Lew Wallace offering me a thing.”
    I was impressed that he knew so much history. He was a thug, mean as they came, a snake of a fellow.”
    “Time’s running out,” I said.
    “I know,” he answered. “It’s almost seven. Eight mountain time.
    Catch you later.

    122 words written just in time
    @billmelaterplea

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