#ThursThreads – Tying Tales Together – Week 541

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 541 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 541:

Scottish Word Slinger, Dauntless romance author, and #ThursThreads host, Siobhan Muir.

Facebook | Twitter | Patreon | Eden Books |

And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.

The Prompt:

“I’m not afraid of him.”

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 541”

  1. The Road Back Part 7

    It was a couple of days before Christmas. My trip upcountry was dragging on longer than anticipated.

    I was holed up in a charming two-story motel built in the fifties called The Rubber Meets The Road Inn.

    The good news, if there was any, was that the suite was on the house.

    Lacey Latimer was the owner.

    And my client.

    It was a simple enough job.

    Her former ‘friend’ as she described Bink Cousins, had threatened to burn the motel down or worse.

    The local constabulary was stretched thin, and she wasn’t the only person in this bailiwick under a similar threat.

    Apparently, some men in Cobalt County didn’t take rejection well.

    I hoped to explain to Bink the benefits of moving on from a relationship.

    Lacey had been putting on a brave face, saying a couple of times a day, “I’m not afraid of him. He’s full of hot air.”

    My comeback always was, “Great, maybe you should be a little leery. That’s why you’ve hired me, right?”

    She would be thrilled to have me rearrange Bink’s worldview, assuming that was possible. The main problem was that Bink had a lot of coin. He owned a string of storage lockers up and down the middle of the province.

    He was an entrepreneurial magnate on the rise.

    He loved to own things.

    He felt that he owned Lacey.

    She was clear that she was her own woman.

    Bink was going to be a hard sell.

    250 WIP

  2. On the first day of December, the first day of the month with Christmas in it, Mom put that stupid elf on the mantle over the fireplace and declared, “He’s watching you.”

    It was like she wanted me to be scared into behaving for that elf. But, you see, I do all my homework. I do all my chores around the house. I make my bed every morning. I get a shower every night. I always put my dirty clothes in the laundry. I always clean my plate, even when Mom fixes food I don’t like. Even if she fixes liver.

    Because. I know the truth. I know Santa watches us all year long. Not just in December. And because. I know the truth even more. I talked to Jesus, you know. I did. And he told me Mom and Dad want me to be a good boy for them. That they worry about me. That they wonder if they are good parents. And he told me if I did my homework, and all my chores, it would show them they were.

    So that’s what I do.

    And because I know the truth, I’m not afraid of that elf on the mantle of the fireplace. Let him watch all he wants. He’ll learn what I already know. I’m a good boy. Because. It makes Mom and Dad think they’re good parents It makes them happy. And happy parents matter. So, I make them happy.

    I’m not afraid of him.

    249 Words

  3. Scottie pooched out his lower lip, his eyes filled with defiance. “I’m not afraid of him!”

    I squatted down to get eye-to-eye with him and gave him my most trustworthy dad face. “Buddy, is this because you heard ‘Here Comes Santa Claus’?”

    He nodded, wiping snot across his face with a fist. “They said I better watch out. He better watch out!”

    I bit my tongue to keep from laughing at the thought of this four year old ball of stubbornness taking on the otherworldly being most people called Santa Claus. Santa might be an immortal being and all, but Scottie was…well, I hadn’t had that conversation with him yet. I just hoped we wouldn’t have to have The Talk until he was older.

    “Yes sir! He better! But I don’t think the song is about Santa coming to hurt you. It’s about whether he’ll bring you presents.”

    Scottie’s eyes glowed orange, then red. I wasn’t going to be able to put that talk off as long as I’d hoped. “I don’t want any of his stupid presents! Last year he brought me a Paw Patrol and I hate Paw Patrol! You and Mommy didn’t give me any Paw Patrol. You love me.”

    The fire died as quickly as it had sparked, and I enveloped him in my arms. Soon, he’d be asleep, though most likely not dreaming of sugar-plums.

    I reached out with my mind to the Underworld. “Dear, I’m going to need you to come home tonight.”

    249 words

  4. “You should be very careful of Deshawn Farson, Grace. He’s dangerous.”

    Grace shot a look at Albert and raised an eyebrow. “I’m not afraid of him. What makes you so concerned, Albert?”

    He shrugged. “There’s just something not quite right about him, y’know? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

    She refrained from rolling her eyes. He knows I’m a Lt. Colonel in the US Army, right? “Thanks for your concern, but I’ll be okay. I’ve been protecting myself for a long time. I’m an expert by now.”

    Albert frowned. “I’m aware of how long you’ve been gone. I’m just glad you’re here now. It’s an opportunity to get reacquainted.” His expression smoothed into a smile. “It’s been far too long. How are your parents? And your sister?”

    Grace set down the chunks of wood she’d collected from the woodpile and focused all her attention on Albert. “Good, all good. But hey, it’s really flippin’ cold out here, so I’m gonna head in and stoke the fire. Thanks for stopping by, Albert.”

    “I could come in and help. I’m great at starting fires and keeping them burning.” He smirked and she clenched her jaw to keep from rolling her eyes. Again.

    He probably thinks he’s so smooth.

    She shot him a polite smile. “Thanks for the offer, but I got it covered. Talk to you later.” She stepped inside and closed the door, not wanting to give him more opportunities to invade her space.

    244 ineligible #Sirens words

  5. “Move away from the turkey,” Isaac said, projecting his voice through his sequin-studded bullhorn. “I’ll not be held responsible if you don’t leave it alone now.”

    “Ignore him. He’s nothing but hot air. I remember him from when he was suckling at my breast. He wasn’t scary then, and he’s hardly developed since. He’s a child who’s grown older, but he’s not any more mature than he was then.”

    Esme smiled, imagining him with his mother’s milk daubed across his cheeks. He’d have had his moustache and beard as he had now, but he would have been smaller, less imposing, and much more easily dismissed. He was too quick to take advantage of his appearance, height and the size of his muscles. He was a bully and a cheat: she wished they’d never met.

    “I’m not afraid of him either,” she said, remembering the gun in her handbag. “He’s going to get his comeuppance any day now.”

    “He’s just an A-hole. It’s the only thing he excels at. He lives to make a mess and raise a stink wherever he goes.”

    “But you’re his mother,” Esme said, wondering how much of an ally she’d be. “Surely you feel a loyalty to the child you produced.”

    Hannah shook her head. “I’ve spent longer getting to know him. How I wish I could have changed things thirty-odd years ago.”

    “What is it you’re plotting?” Isaac bellowed over them both. “I’m not afraid of either one of you. You’re both pitiful and weak.”

    250 yuletide words – twothirdzrasta.blogspot.com

  6. The two women occupied dainty chairs drawn up to a small table near the heavily draped window. A fire crackled merrily in a nearby fireplace. Other patrons dotted the tea room. Meg pulled her gaze from the busy street outside. “I’m not afraid of him.”

    Cory raised an eyebrow. “That’s quite the non sequitur.”

    Looking out the window, Meg lifted one shoulder in a negligent acknowledgment. “I know what it looks like.” She inhaled several times. “How’s Marishka?”

    Cory slowly closed her eyes. “Pick a topic, Meg. I’m too tired to keep up.” Her voice held a smile. “She’s responding well to the chemo. She’s much better now that Maxim is with her.”

    “And the others?”

    “All doing well. You can come see them, you know.”

    Meg looked down, studying the golden liquid in her china tea cup. “I know. I should have gone before now.”

    “What are you going to do?”

    Her gaze jerked up only to meet the other woman’s. “Go see them.”

    Cory’s smile curved her lips only slightly. “My turn for a non sequitur. What about Kin?”

    What about him?”

    “What are your plans where he’s concerned?”

    “I don’t see how that is any of your business.”

    Cory leaned forward and lowered her voice, which was now filled with steel. “All of them are my business. They’re my family and I take care of them. Please, don’t break his heart.”

    Meg suddenly wanted to cry. “How can I not?”

    And that realization broke her own.
    249 Hard Target: Crossfire WIP words

  7. Since I’m working on an expanded edition of a book, I decided to write this tonight as a little scene that may or may not end up included in it.

    I yanked my reaper robes on, frustrated with the little gnawing of worry that nibbled at the edges of my mind. Three months of reaping souls under my guide had prepared me for being on my own. What it hadn’t prepared me for was how to handle it when Caius lurked on my routes. Especially since he only appeared when I had already battled more eaters than I had replenisher for. I could only guess he drew the creatures to me.

    Bethany never faced the numbers I did. And although I hadn’t told her how many came for me each shift, I had told her about Caius’s presence.

    Perhaps he couldn’t kill me outright without causing more problems than it was worth. But if eaters overwhelmed me while I was on my reaper routes… Well, how was that was anyone’s fault? If there weren’t already people in high places who thought I should be dead, I wouldn’t be so paranoid. But there were. And I was.

    When I stepped out of my room, Bethany was just emerging from her own room. Concern shadowed her face when she asked, “Are you sure you will be okay?”

    I nodded and strode to the door with a confidence I didn’t really feel. “I’m not afraid of him.”
    The worry that continued to chew at my nerves me called me a liar. I ignored it and headed for my next shift and whatever it might bring.

    242 words

  8. “Calma, Abuela,” Lupita Lopez helped her grandmother over the step into her parents’ home. “The world hasn’t ended, so maybe they’re taking better care of the ruby than we expected.”

    The little bruja shook her head and grumbled.

    “Fue estúpido de mi parte! If I’d realized how powerful a sorceress that vampiresa was, I would have prepared better.”

    “I’ll keep looking for them tonight. For now, we might as well enjoy la cena.”

    Lupita got her last comment in before her brother greeted them in the entry, with his young sons right behind him.

    “Abuela, you’re looking well.”

    “Tia Lupita!”

    Jorge guided Abuela to the family room. His boys deftly dodged their eerie great-grandmother to barrel into Lupita’s legs.

    “Hola, mis chicos!”

    Lupita crouched to enthusiastically embrace her nephews. Mateo looked around furtively while Chris kept his attention on their aunt.

    “Do you know about Krampus?” Mateo whispered seriously.

    “Oh, si!” Lupita laughed.

    Her wide-eyed nephews stood in awe of their awesome aunt. Chris tugged on her sleeve.

    “Isn’t he scary?”

    “I’m not afraid of him,” Lupita shrugged. “And you shouldn’t be either. He only comes for the bad niños.”

    Also, the supernatural vigilante was pretty sure she could take Evil Santa in a fight.

    Mateo stuck his chest out, “I wasn’t scared of him either!”

    “You know, your bisabuela has met him,” Lupita confided.

    Her nephews’ horrified faces and a glimpse of their mother in the family room made Lupita think maybe she shouldn’t have said that.

    248 PRUDENT words

  9. “The Dragon Lords have outlived their usefulness.” Jun Li’s pronouncement elicited bobbed heads and murmurs of agreement from the others.

    So, she is queen here, Yoon thought. She poured tea into the cups on the table. “Your Master surely has a plan,” she baited.

    “He will behead the snake,” Jun Li replied haughtily, taking a cup in her dainty hand. The other concubines followed suit.

    Yoon’s heart twisted with worry, but her own cup was steady as she drank. Brutal years in Ruan’s court had taught her well how to hide her truth.

    “How do you know which is the head?” a pouty courtesan asked.

    “The most seditious Lord has been bountied already,” Jun Li said. “Assassins wait outside the city.”

    Yoon swallowed hard.

    “Where are you from?” Jun Li asked suddenly.

    Yoon hesitated but rank demanded she answer. “Shangchin,” she replied.

    Tea spurted from Jun Li as her cup dropped with a loud clatter. “Dragon Wu is your Master?” She caught Yoon’s eye and they both knew the truth.

    “That scarred bastard will be the death of you,” Jun Li warned. “I should arrange for you to stay.”

    Yoon set down her cup, calmly smoothing the ebony fall of hair from her cheek. “I’m not afraid of him.”
    But she was afraid for him. She’d have to plan her escape carefully now that Jun Li knew she belonged to their target. If she wasn’t very clever, she’d lose the only man she’d ever loved. A second time.

    248 City of Flowers words

  10. A Hard Talk

    “Look I can’t explain it to you.”

    “Sure you can. Ya start talkin’ You find a place to begin and just say what’s on your mind.”

    “It’s not that simple.”

    Cal looked to the skies and shook his head. “You got breath in your lungs, you sittin’ there tellin’ me it ain’t simple. Ah can do complicated. Ah just need words.”

    He could feel her glaring at him as he walked inside, grabbed two beers from the cooler, and handed her one before opening his.

    He took a pull. He let his breath out with a satisfied smile and studied it for a minute.

    “I can tell you the process used to brew this here beer. I can talk ‘bout chemical reactions and fermentation. Or I can just say, it’s good, but I’m still talkin’ bout it. It ain’t complicated – it’s just beer,”

    “We aren’t talking about beer.”

    “No, we aren’t, we also ain’t talkin’ ‘bout your daddy neither. No we’re talkin’ hard about how you ain’t talkin’ about him. Why you so afraid ‘ah him?”

    “I’m not afraid of him.”

    “Well, cher, you afraid ah somethin’ an the more you don’t talk about it, the worse it gonna get.”

    “You don’t know what it’s like.”

    Cal snorted and took another sip. “Mah daddy used people like puppets, an he tried to kill me when I was five so as he could live forever. Yours can’t be dat bad.”

    “Maybe, maybe not.”

    “But did you die?”


    “Dat’s a start.”

    250 words, not including title

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.