#ThursThreads – Tying Tales Together – Week 544

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 544 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 544:

Book enthusiast, lover of coffee, and Fantasy and Suspense author, Tina Glasneck.

Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads |

And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.

The Prompt:

“Did you miss me?”

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!

11 Replies to “#ThursThreads – Tying Tales Together – Week 544”

  1. The Road Back Part 10

    Over a week ago, on New Year’s Eve, my old inamorata, Cheri Styles, had handed me the job of saving her life. It seemed a reasonable resolution to make.

    First things first, I had to stow her somewhere, somewhere out of my hair and out of the crosshairs of her murderous ex, Sam Withers.

    Easier said than done.

    Cheri hung onto me like I was a crying towel.

    “Did you miss me?” she asked over and over. “I know we had our…issues…but it was good once, wasn’t it?”

    You can see my dilemma. There I am trying to focus on a clear and present danger to her and all she wanted to do was reinvent the past. To keep her calm, I lied. “Of course, I missed you…some of the time. But we have other things to deal with, Cheri. Like where you can stay and be safe. Any ideas?”

    She gave that thought a whirl. Wrinkled brow, pinky touching her lip like she was in deep thought.

    She offered her patented little girl lost look. “Nothing comes to mind. How bout I stay with you?”

    Then I had a brainstorm. I quickly called Lacey Latimer up in Cobalt County at The Rubber Meets The Road Inn and explained my dilemma.

    “Hadn’t expected to hear from you quite so soon. Sure, send your frothy package up. I’ll keep her busy…and safe.”

    Cheri had balked but I shipped her north.

    Then I went hunting Sam Withers.

    250 WIP

  2. The clearing was small but the trees surrounded it were ragged and spaced apart rather than the dense forest they’d been traversing. Meg wondered if there’d been an avalanche or perhaps an old rock fall that caused it. She startled as three heads all came up in unison—Kin, Loch, and Moshe. Uri quickly followed suit. The three men and the dog stared up the mountain, which was still enshrouded with thick clouds.

    Duke came to join them. “Plane or helo?”

    “Helo,” they said in unison.

    Everyone stood up now, their attention focused the same direction. Meg began edging the children back in preparation to run.

    The clouds swirled, broke apart, and a Russian helicopter appeared as if by magic. It circled, then it rotated, hovering about 200 feet above the ground. Duke motioned everyone back to the tree line as Dalton and Tank moved to opposite sides of the clearing. Duke stood facing the craft. It slowly descended and with a rush of wind created by the rotors, it squatted in the center of the space. Nobody moved until a hatch opened along the side of the helo.

    A man with dark hair popped out. He removed his aviator-style sunglasses and grinned. “Did you miss me?” Dom winked at Meg. “Pretty sure you did, darlin’.”

    “Sometimes the folly of youth is enough to make an old man weep,” Kin muttered.

    Meg stared at him, eyes wide. “Did you just quote ‘Lord of the Rings’?”

    He looked shifty-eyed. “Maybe.”
    249 Hard Target: Crossfire WIP words

  3. “Well, I’m here,” Everett said. “Did you miss me?”

    There were fewer than he’d expected, his sister most notably absent. His elder brother was very much present, his booming laugh unmistakable, but it was alarming to see who wasn’t there, the spaces that hadn’t been filled.

    “You made it then, Squirt?” Bruce was at the head of the table, his eyes like snipers’ barrels. They’d never gotten on when they’d been children; it seemed like things would never change.

    “Leave him alone,” their mother said. “Give him a chance. He’s probably still feeling bruised by his expiration.”

    His mother was younger than he’d remembered, her hair still a fiery red. They’d kept her busy while she’d been alive, forever forcing her to take sides. She barely seemed any older than Bruce now, sitting to his left, his brother in his father’s place. Their dynamic had shifted while they’d been away – or was it him who’d been missing?

    “Where’s Ellie? And the old man? And Aunt Cassie?”

    “They didn’t make it. They went to the other place. Are you surprised?” Bruce took his mother’s hand and squeezed it, his eyes momentarily less feral. “The rumours were all true – Mom’s sister put it about, just like they’d all said. But we never guessed who she was seeing. That was a shock to me too, but the signs were there, going back years.”

    “What about Ellie? What happened there?”

    Bruce shook his head, his grin like flint.

    “What do you think?”

    250 words – twothirdzrasta.blogspot.com

  4. Mystica stood on the shore of the lake, as if she knew what was going to happen. Perhaps the machines had told her. Perhaps Merlin had. No one really knew.

    Musica, curious, stood next to her. “Are we waiting for something?”


    “We are waiting for someone, then.”


    “Do you know who?”


    “But you aren’t telling anyone?”


    Rose floated in the air from her tree house to the lake, “Musica. You must play happy music.” She looked at Mystica, “Mother is happy, can’t you see?”

    Musica played her flute. A happy song. One she’d never played. All random notes, like a child, exploring the world, and being so amazed at everything, even the clouds floating in the air, or the feel of the lake water on their toes.

    Scream, the dragon, circled the lake clearing from high above. He waited. Rose laughed, happily, “She’s coming home, isn’t she?”

    Mystica didn’t speak.

    Until a lone fairy, with fiery red hair, floated over the tree line, and to the center of the lake, and asked, “Did you miss me?”

    Mystica nodded. “Yes.”

    Rose flew across the lake and embraced her sister, Sunshine. “Welcome home, sister. We’ve missed you.”

    Sunshine moved to the shore of the lake, and landed next to Mystica. “I’m sorry I was gone so long, Mother.”

    “You had to find yourself.”

    Sunshine nodded. “I searched Cylinders. All of it.” She smiled at Mystica, then looked at the water of the lake. “I found my home.”

    249 Words

  5. Initial attempts to scratch a message on my expensive coffee table were painfully discouraging. Maybe if I had some sand. But then, the local shoreline is all pebble beaches.


    Great. Now the kid’s up, and I still don’t have a way to communicate with her. I hop onto the coffee table and flick my tail as I stare at her. Weird how natural that felt.

    “Kitty? Mommy got me a kitty! I’m going to name you Blackie!” she declares proudly.

    How original. You couldn’t have thought about it for, I don’t know, a second? Her eyes are as bright orange as her pigtails. Wait, wasn’t her hair blue when she got here?

    I sigh and turn for the pantry. The kid’s probably hungry, and I could use something myself.

    “Where are you going, Blackie?”

    The kid gets up to follow me, her hair and eyes fading from orange to yellow. And I thought her mom was weird.

    Damn it. The door’s closed. I meow and paw at the pantry.

    “You want in there?”

    I nod, and the kid opens the door. Okay, the bread’s on the fourth shelf up. I can make that jump.

    My claws catch the edge of the shelf, spilling its contents everywhere. The kid’s hair and eyes flash when she yelps.

    “Blackie! Did you miss?”

    Me? No, I meant to pull my pantry down on myself. I roll to my feet and shake out before nosing the loaf of bread toward the kid.

    248 words

  6. Chester raised his hand in a wave and pointed to the counter. She nodded and he ordered something hot despite the warmth of the day outside.

    Once he’d gotten his hot Chai, he brought it to Hermione’s table and sat down, trying to figure out what to say. He gave her a nervous smile.


    She nodded. “Hey.”

    “How’ve you been?”

    Ugh. Small talk. He sucked at it before he met her, and it hadn’t improved with the time.

    She didn’t say anything for a few moments and her eyes narrowed, but then she nodded. “I haven’t been great. You?”

    He let out the breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “No, the last few weeks have sucked. It’s been rough.”

    Her expression softened. “I can imagine. I’m sure the memories weren’t too good.”

    “No. I get nightmares sometimes, but my therapist says it’s my mind trying to expunge the sharpness of the memories so they become duller and I can heal from them.” He sipped his Chai to coat his suddenly dry throat. “I’ve missed you, though.”

    “Did you? Miss me, really?” Her eyebrows went up.

    He nodded. “I did. Particularly the morning after we got back from…” He trailed off and glanced around before lowering his voice. “That thing in the place with that guy.”

    She barked a laugh as her face split into a wide grin. “Oh yes, the thing in the place with that guy. That’s a great way to describe it. You’re learning fast, doc.”

    250 ineligible #Sirens words

  7. Winning is for losers.

    Cal looked at the forces gathered against them and squared his shoulders. He had to prove that he would do anything to protect what was his, and he had to remind his enemies that nothing was stronger than a man with nothing to lose.

    He had let them start the fight, holding back until they’d committed fully. This had to look real, and that meant it had to be real.

    He felt pain sear into his brain as he started to lose control. He growled, an unholy smile gracing his lips as he focused on his enemies.

    “Sometimes you fight fire with water,” he said. “Sometimes you fight it with foam— Ah prefer to fight fire with hell-fire.”

    As he spoke, his eyes began to glow and he started to turn. It was time to remind them of just who and what he was.

    “You know why blood magic don’t work on me?” he asked, taunting them with the one fact that had eluded them, “I haven’t had any in 250 years.”

    The admission set the blood mage free and her spell swept through guilty and innocent alike. And at its end, only the innocent remained.

    Cal blinked, his voice sounding distant even to him. “Did you miss me on purpose?”

    She laughed at the accusation in his voice.

    “I wasn’t trying to hit you,” she assured him. “Then again, I wasn’t trying not to either.”

    He smiled, they’d faced the madness that couldn’t be defeated, and somehow they’d survived.

    250 Words – not including title

  8. “Going once…twice…sold…”

    “Oh, heck yeah, let’s look at what we got.” Charlie said.

    “It’s one of those old corporate places, there has to be something cool, right?”

    Jess shook her head, “I hope so, ‘because that was this month’s rent check, and if it’s not, you’ll be living in there alone.”

    “Come on Jess,” he said smiling his real smile at her, “even that’d be an adventure.”

    He grinned, “Could we live in a storage shed for 100 days?”

    “Will you get arrested, evicted or dumped first?” Jess grumbled, only marginally serious.

    He took the bolt cutters to the three locks on the door and pulled it up.

    He paused, “Oh man, sweet. Jess check this out. It’s totally vintage. I mean this thing must be forty years old.”

    “Let me tease my bangs and find my acid-washed jeans…” Jess snarked. as her boyfriend pulled on an ancient leather jacket.

    “Michael, did you miss me?”

    Who said that?” Charlie asked.

    “Who are you?” The voice asked again.

    “You are wearing his jacket and my keys are in your pocket, but you’re shorter than Michael.

    “And you’ve developed significantly better taste in companions.”

    “Your ghost has good taste,” Jess teased.

    “Miss, I am not a ghost, and if you just remove this infuriating drop cloth, I will show you.”

    They removed it and found a black 1982 Pontiac Trans Am.”

    “A Talking Car?”

    “Young man, I am so much more than just a talking car.”

    244 Words
    Joel Sandersen

  9. Traffic had been rough the whole way home, but the deejays had been friendly and I’d had a good soundtrack to sing along with. The combination of needing to stay alert enough to not hit anything and the physicality of singing kept my brain busy enough that I didn’t think about those things I didn’t want to think about.

    Did you miss me?

    At first, it wasn’t even a whisper. But my chest tightened and I saw her face.

    I turned to a new station. Commercial. Another station. Not that song. I hate that song.

    Did you miss me?

    I heard something this time, a voice that made my breath catch. I knew that voice and I knew what it wanted from me.

    I turned the volume up and started singing along with the song that was playing; no matter that I’d hated that song for thirty years.

    Did you miss me?

    An icicle slid down the back of my neck and I realized that my eyes had filled with tears. I tried to sing the next line and I couldn’t. My throat was too full and I couldn’t seem to get enough air.

    Yes, I croaked. Yes, I missed you. I miss you all the time.

    The icicle drew back and oxygen returned to my lungs. I blinked away the tears, seeing the lights of my house in starbursts.

    The voice was quiet. But I knew that as soon as I closed my eyes, I’d hear it whisper again.

    250 words

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.