#ThursThreads – Tying Tales Together – Week 562

Welcome back to the home of #ThursThreads. 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 562 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 562:

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:

“There wasn’t time to waste.”

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 562”

  1. In The Tweet by and by

    The news that my twitter account might be eliminated after I died was worrisome. Granted, it was reasonable to assume that I might have little to say after I left this fine mortal coil. Certainly, the capacity to think can be impaired by death. Still, I hadn’t given up on a cryogenic exit. It would be a significant investment from my estate but being penurious and not especially trusting or fond of my relatives, it might be viewed as a wise investment.

    Even if I opted for a more traditional and presumably permanent departure, my social media accounts were like my children: more fondly thought of than offspring. The fact is that I have more friends on Facebook than in real life. And I should point out that Facebook is more real to me than real life.

    Yes, there’ve been disappointments; arguments about this and that.


    That Covid Conflagration was a doozy.

    Now, with the threat of Twitter being only the preserve of the still living, my plan to construct one hundred years’ worth of Twitterature, my thoughts today about the future, pummeling out after I have moved on to wherever the dearly departed depart to, which is still open to debate, was in some jeopardy.

    There wasn’t time to waste. I needed to tweet to my hearts content, fight this ominous assault on my human right to have opinions forever.

    Wish me luck. I’m doing it for you as well.

    250 words

  2. The helicopter landed near an isolated hangar on the airfield. As the rotors wound down and stopped, armed soldiers surrounded the helo. To say the kids freaked was an understatement.

    Galyna slid to the floor and huddled next to Moshe, tears washing her cheeks. The dog licked the girl before facing the slowly-opening door. The K-9 growled, hackles up. Yakiv kept asking Larysa what was happening. Anichka pulled them and Sonya down to cluster next to Galyna. Maxim crouched in front of the other kids, their fierce protector. He held a combat knife and Meg had no idea where he’d acquired it.

    Several soldiers reached into the helicopter to grab the kids. There wasn’t time to waste. Meg threw herself at the nearest, fists flying in an attempt to fend them off. Except she never got close enough to connect. A strong arm wrapped around her waist and hauled her back. When her vision cleared, she realized that Tank, Dalton, Duke, and Loch had forced the soldiers back and cleared space around the helicopter.

    “We’ve got this, lass,” Kin whispered “Trust me.”

    She did. These men would allow nothing to happen to them.

    Duke faced the Romanian commander, who explained, “We have orders. They will be segregated until—”

    “No. They stay with us.” Duke’s voice held harsh finality.

    A petite blond confronted the officer, one finger shaking in his face. “We talked about this, Commander.”

    A smart man knew not to argue with “the finger.” The commander was a smart man.
    250 Hard Target: Crossfire WIP words

  3. “Come on, I have to write the official record,” The scribe pleaded.
    “The official story is the record,” my husband, Sigurd answered.
    “But in a future generation (perhaps your great- grandchildren), wouldn’t you like them to know the true story of your romance?”
    “The scribe takes the oath of secrecy and the story shall not see the light of day for one-hundred years,” Sigurd agreed.
    “We met during a battle,” I began.

    “There wasn’t time to waste, dressed as a boy warrior she ran to her fallen comrade dressing his wounds. The battle was lost and bade her flee. She argued, I scooped her up and bade my lieutenant gather up her comrade. Her long, flame red hair, plummet down, framing her. Her violet eyes turned black. She would have shot flaming arrows at me.. I had my lǣċe treat him, even though I hoped she’d be a widow.”
    “Months went by, my comrade got better and became his scribe.”
    “I still longed for Fiona, but her husband was my scribe.”
    “I fell for his loving kind ways, but I hesitated. One day he overheard my brother call me sister, and he reacted by laughing, declaring himself. I made him work for my hand and he wooed me with flowers, foods rides and declared I would be treated as his equal. I accepted.
    “This will be a love story for the ages,” the scribe commented. “Such is the record of the epic love story of Sigurd and Fiona Ragnulf !!”
    249 Words

  4. The red light continued to flash. The timer kept running. They’d less than five minutes. What’d started as a joke had become a matter of life and death.

    “So, it’s just like hot-wiring a car,” Donovan said, sweat beading his brow. “Only, instead of getting an engine to fire, you’re trying to do the opposite.”

    “Aye; it’s no big deal. Don’t worry. We’ve more than enough time. We’ve eliminated one pair of wires – our odds just got better.”

    “That’s easy for you to say. You’re behind that wall of sandbags. Another mistake; you get a dose of earache. The consequences are a little worse for me.”

    “You need to keep calm,” Kent said, his voice measured. Reassuring. “These devices are like Buicks; they build them on a production line. Consistency is our friend in these circumstances.”

    “So, what’s next? Which wire? Is it the green? Or the mauve?”

    “The mauve?” Kent sounded confused. “No, don’t pull on that one, whatever you do. There ought to be a blue, a red, a green and a black. I don’t recall them ever using any mauve wires. Not ever.”

    The suicide jacket was getting heavy, and using the mirror to see what he was doing swapped his left with his right. The timer seemed to be running at double speed. However you saw it, there wasn’t time to waste.

    “Tell me,” Kent said, doubt colouring his voice for the first time. “Is there any chance you were ever diagnosed as being colour-blind?”

    250 seconds (or words) – twothirdzrasta.blogspot.com

  5. The machines woke Sunshine the next morning. “Why did you wake me?”

    “We knew you wanted to see what would happen in a few minutes, when the plates slip and cause an earthquake.”


    “We will also have to lift the boat from the water. There will be several tidal waves.”

    Sunshine had never seen tidal waves before. All she knew of them was they were large waves, and moved lots of water.

    The machines continued. “We want your permission to move the boat. We couldn’t get that while you slept. We would have waited, but the plates would slip before you would have woken up. There wasn’t time to waste, waiting for you. So we woke you.”

    The boat lifted hundreds of feet from the water.

    “It is time.”

    It started as a low rumble she could feel in her bones before she heard it. An earthquake. The mountains on the shore shook, she saw them as they did. Molten rock, and clouds of gas erupted from a miles long strip of the mountains. The rock raced toward the water.

    When the mountains moved, the water of the ocean got left behind, and almost like it realized the mountains had moved without it, the water decided to chase the mountains. It took hours that seemed to happen all at once, but Sunshine watched as the ocean caught up to the land, and then formed monstrous waves that reached well into the mountains.

    “Nothing could survive that.”

    247 Words

  6. “Woohoo! Grab the pickaxes and shovels, boys! We gonna dig us up some bones tonight.”

    One of the men threw back the last of a beer can and tossed it on the ground as he reached into the pickup bed for some sort of tool. The other men leapt to join him, half so damn tipsy they crashed to the ground and stumbled around like their legs had fallen asleep. Maya rolled her eyes but kept the camera trained on them.

    None of the vehicles had logos on their sides, but she’d seen a couple of them around town, and she recognized a few faces from the hardware store.

    So, these are just good ole boys from town. What the hell are they doing out here?

    “Hey, Ty, hold up a bit. What are we supposed to do out here again?”

    “Fuck, Chip, you’re thick as a rock sometimes. Mr. Krassobaki paid us to fuck up those uppity university folks’ dig sites. Said that would make them back off if their shit was gone and he’d get his permits to expand.”

    A deep growl came from the woods behind Maya but the men couldn’t hear it over their music and talking. That worked for Maya. She already had a recording of them with Krassobaki’s name on it. But there wasn’t time to waste on just recording the bastards. They were planning on destroying the burial site of Persia’s sisters, and that wasn’t gonna fly.

    244 ineligible #WIP500 words

  7. “Great; another human.”

    Vedania, the elven ranger, means me. She hates humans like we’re all my ex. I keep my eyes down.

    “Yeah, sorry about that.”

    At least Spooky restored me to human form clothed. It’s been so long; is this what I had on when I was cursed? I look like an entitled prick.

    My daughter leans on the bench, studying me with eyes glowing a curious teal.

    “You’re not a cat?”

    I shake my head. Vedania collects unexpended ritual components.

    Spooky continues, “How’d you get cursed?”

    From behind, Vedania is quite attractive. And a lot less scary.

    “Uh, Malain thought I’d take better care of you if I needed you to change me back.”

    Of course, the last time I fell for a terrifying woman, I got turned into a cat.

    “Mommy cursed you?” Spooky’s eyes and hair flash with surprise. “Why you?”

    “I,” Do I really want to tell her? “I’m your father.”

    Vedania stops what she’s doing. At least Spooky’s hair and eyes don’t change to an unhappy color. Actually, they stay teal.

    Suddenly an eagle dives through the open window and transforms into Vedania’s sister, Bluebelle. The druid nods at me the same as when I was a cat, smiles at Spooky, then addresses Vedania.

    “Emathyst and Oaklie found Malain holed up nearby.”

    “Was there anyone with her?” Vedania’s words are as pointed as her arrows.

    “There wasn’t.”

    “Time to waste that bitch.”

    I shouldn’t express my enthusiasm for that in front of our daughter.

    250 words

  8. Requi-REM

    Earth, Wind and Fire was playing on the radio, there wasn’t time to waste. The words that had alluded me all day now came unbidden, faster than I could follow, I found myself running down one rabbit hole and then the next, but I was on the road to nowhere.

    I was looking for a shining star, but it must have been the wrong song. I started to drift away, but I still hadn’t found what I was looking for. When I asked for a beat, only Janet replied.

    I’m not sure what I answered as they questioned me, trying to solve the twenty-year-old mystery of my coma, just that, when it hit me, somebody turned around and said, ‘bang a gong, get it on.’ and I was running for the door.

    The needle had been pushed too far, and you can’t always get what you want, what you really, really want.

    They say it was a higher power guiding me that night. I didn’t have the heart to tell them that the higher power was coming out of Detroit, and fixing my bridgework, fixed the problem, B-sides, still playing in my mind, gave a whole new meaning to deep sleep.

    201 words (not including title)
    @mishmehem (let this serve as a warning. don’t nap right after eating )

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