#ThursThreads – Tying Tales Together – Week 571

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 almost 11 years. It’s amazing we’ve gone this long! This is Week 571 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 571:

Dead Thing Specialist, Mining Geologist, and Original Book Boyfriend, George Varhalmi.

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And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.

The Prompt:

“You’re going to need 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!

12 Replies to “#ThursThreads – Tying Tales Together – Week 571”

  1. I was alone, but then when had I ever been not alone? I was orphaned at an early age given into the foster system and moved from home to home all through my childhood years. Now I was old enough to be turfed, so here I was twenty-one, with a high school diploma and no job, an apartment that was only paid for the next week, then I’d be homeless. I was getting scared, there were no jobs. I slept terribly then hit the pavement there were no jobs. Defeated I went home to pack what I could in a backpack. Imagine my surprise when my downstairs neighbour, Martin came out of his apartment, Martin was old and I often shopped for him getting him groceries and cleaning his apartment.
    “Charlene, I moved all your stuff in this morning you get the spare room,” he said gruffly.
    “I couldn’t impose.”
    “You’ll stay with me until get back on my feet.”
    I was grateful and accepted then he shoved a cheque at me.
    “You’re going to need that, to go to nursing school. I paid for the first semester and I’ll pay for the rest if you study hard.”
    I was overwhelmed and started crying but Martin said, “When I was young someone helped me. let me help you and return the favour.”
    I went to nursing school and now I’ve graduated Martin, proudly at my ceremony. Now, Martin and I have funded a scholarship to help others just like me.
    250 words

  2. Space Sweepstakes Doldrums

    “What to take, what to take?”
    He’s thrilled. I’ve never seen him so abuzz. He actually won Space Sweepstakes Number TWO. The winner of SS Number ONE was a sixteen-year-old space nerd from France. We wondered at the time why they had no age restrictions.
    Upwards as well as downwards.
    I mean, he’s fairly fit for an octogenarian but, jeepers creepers, he is eighty-one.
    But it was wide-open. And all you had to do to win a trip to Mars was buy a one-hundred-dollar ticket. “You’re not going to win,” I said. A couple of times. He laughed and answered, “It’s for a good cause.”
    But he won.
    Out of all the millions who entered.
    A once in a lifetime adventure.
    And now he gets to pack.
    A small travel bag.
    Twenty pounds.
    No more.
    He’ll be gone a year. That’s what they say. Orientation and the flight there and back.
    He is on some medication.
    Pills are not that heavy. Years supply though…
    And spare glasses and hearing aids.
    “You’re going to need that,” I said, opening the fridge and pointing to the two pounds block of Velveeta Cheese.
    He loves that stuff.
    Been eating it since childhood.
    Suddenly I see a sad look on his kisser.
    “What’s the matter, Buck Rogers?” I jest.
    “I’ll miss that cheese but there is always a price to pay, isn’t there.”
    “Me and the cheese,” I say. “You poor old fool.”
    We hug and he continues packing.

    248 words

  3. Ronan looked up as his brother entered the office. Without a word, Mick strode to the built-in bar, snagged an Irish crystal highball glass and poured a generous splash of Irish whiskey into it. Still silent, he approached the desk and set the drink in front of Ronan.

    “What’s this then?” he asked.

    “Drink it.”

    “And why should I be drinkin’ in the middle of the day?”

    “You’re going to need that.”

    He didn’t touch the glass but he leaned forward, his entire attention focused on Mick. “What’s happened?”

    “Nothing. Yet.”

    “Just a guess here, but I’m thinkin’ yet must be the operative word.”

    “Aye, Ronan.”

    “Who died?”

    “No one. Yet.”

    “And there’s that word again. Fine. Who needs killing then?”

    Mick snorted out a laugh. “Now that ’twould be a long list, yeah?”

    Ronan leveled an alpha stare on his brother. “I’ve got actual work t’be doin’, Mick. Spill it or get on with yer day and leave me in peace.”

    Mick returned to the bar and poured whiskey into a second glass. He tossed it back before he faced Ronan. “’Tis the Brannigan woman.”

    Ronan went very still. Under his icy stare, Mick grabbed the first glass he’d filled off the desk and drained it too. Sadly, as a Wolf, the alcohol was more for show and taste than any sort of actual palliative. He briefly met his brother’s gaze then lowered his eyes.

    “What about Maura?” Ronan’s voice was all teeth and claws.

    “Someone wants her dead.”
    250 Moonstruck Mafia WIP cliffhanger words

  4. “I don’t think you’re going to need that,” Margarite said, plucking the stake from my fingers. “It’ll not be any use to you when I attack.”

    Her hand was small against mine, and her skin was unblemished and soft. There was no sense of violence about her; she could have been caressing me rather than taking my last weapon away.

    “Now, come here, my Poppet,” she said, her voice coaxing and warm. “We might as well make this pleasurable while it lasts. You’ll remember these last few moments for the rest of your life, so it’ll be kinder if I don’t need to use too much force.”

    Not at all the tempestuous harridan I’d been warned about.

    Her body was ample and soft, comforting like a mother, her curves firm but still yielding as she drew me close.

    “Amen to that,” I said, a warm fuzziness filling my head. She seemed familiar but different too. As though she was everyone I’d ever known and loved, wrapped together in a single delectable package.

    Like Christmas as a child. And affectionate grandmothers. And something more, something more adult and direct. I could give myself to her and never want anyone else. Lust wasn’t the word for it; I could lose myself if she relaxed and took me inside.

    I never felt the first bite. I was covered in blood – my own blood – before I realised my mistake. But it was already too late. I’d passed the point of no return.

    250 words – twothirdzrasta.blogspot.com

  5. “Chloe didn’t know that I personally know the Lord Regent.”

    Maelen’s eyebrows went up. “I didn’t know you personally knew him.”

    “You should.” Indy winked. “You knew him too, when he was a child. That’s Sprin Regentson, who I used to play with when we were kids. Remember?”

    “Oh my glory!” Tamzin laughed. “You both got into so much trouble. I thought he was going to become a wrangler like you, but I guess not.” She beamed at Indy. “Did you tell Chloe you know the Lord Regent personally.”

    Indy’s grin shifted to a smirk. “Nope.”

    Tamzin chortled. “Oh, that’s fabulous! She had no idea what she had when she walked out.”

    Indy lost her smirk. “No, but I don’t think she could see real treasure unless it sparkled, and all she’s going for is fool’s gold.”

    “You’re the real deal, Indira.” Maelen reached across the table to grasp Indy’s arm. “I know what she did hurts right now, but if she couldn’t see you now, it wouldn’t matter how many connections you have. She wouldn’t value you. I’m so sorry she was blind.”

    Indy sniffed. “Yeah, me too. But hey, I have you and Mom, and the brightmares, so I’ll be okay. Plus, I have the summer season coming up, so I’ll have time to heal in a space of quiet.”

    Maelen snorted. “You’re going to need that and more if you have to see that woman in the Nimbus Court when you get back.”

    246 ineligible #Rifts words

  6. “You’re going to need that.” Jake said.

    “What’s that? asked Katie.

    “That my friend, is the map to the underground vault where the books are.” Jake said.

    “Whoa! We’re getting real now!” Katie said.

    “ 100%! You still all in?” Jake asked.

    “Of course! We have to do something. They’re going to burn those books or turn them into toilet paper, so yeah, I’m all in!” Katie said.

    The pair were on a mission to liberate a cache of books, recently confiscated by the Governor’s personal goon squad. The “Woke Busters”, had seized hundreds of books from the high school library after his Cataloging Commission issued a report condemning the widespread reverse racism and sexually explicit content of the library.

    Jake and Katie approached the rental truck, Katie jumped up on the runner and hopped in as Jake started the truck.

    “You sure you don’t wanna change your clothes? Jake asked.

    “What, you don’t like my ripped jeans and tights or is it my autumn orange hair?” Katie asked.

    “No, I love em, but I don’t know what the security cam situation is and…” jake said.

    “What are they going to do to me? Kick me out? Send me to a reprogramming camp? I’ve already survived a high school mass shooting, so yeah, bring it on!” said Katie.

    “Roger that – loud and clear! Let’s roll! Jake said.

    Katie turned on the radio, rolled down the window and took a deep breath of the hot, humid night air.

    Word count: 249
    @taforu on twitter

  7. Dimitar stumbled into the tunnel with a ragged gasp, the world pulsing obnoxiously bright monochromes. He could still see people’s blood flowing through their bodies.

    But the screaming had settled enough that he started hearing his own thoughts again.

    “You were magnificent!” Lorelai looped her arm through Dimitar’s, licking her crimson lips. “It’s a shame your opponents were sent to bay five. I would’ve loved a closer look at their injuries!”

    The psycho bitch who did this to him ran a hand over his hardened physique. Checking for injuries or admiring her handiwork? It didn’t really matter.

    Dimitar retched and braced himself against the stone wall. It wasn’t as bad as his earlier fights. In some ways, that made it worse.

    “So, do you need anything before we go?”

    Lorelai’s screwy smile seared Dimitar’s senses like venom. If he had a little more of the drug left in his system, he would’ve loved to snap her thin neck. But the world was settling back into place, and he was feeling normal again. Well, as normal as he had since coming to this place.

    Exhausted, but normal.

    “Go where?”

    “Home, silly! Didn’t I tell you that we’re taking you home?”

    Dimitar tilted his head, trying to trickle his thoughts into place. He’d heard a lot of things in this place. He doubted even half of them were real.

    “Well, if we get separated, you’re going to need that.”

    Lorelai slipped a syringe of the combat drug into Dimitar’s pocket.

    248 words

  8. “Pick it up. Pick it back up, dammit!”

    Matt stood with shoulders slumped against the cold, roaring wind. The bright sunshine had been chased out by black thunder clouds, rolling overhead like a hurricane. He was sure if it released any rain it would sting like needles against his skin. This storm wasn’t a natural one though. It was the byproduct of the witch standing before him in the grassy field. Fury and betrayal flashing in her green eyes.

    He couldn’t blame her. Not one bit.

    “I said pick it up!” Her grip and stance shifted for attack. Streaks of white lightning bounced across clouds, glinting off the polished metal of her dagger and his sword, which laid on the ground between them.

    “No,” he said.

    Kailyn stepped toward him, kicking the sword to clatter against his boots. “You will pick it up, and you will fight me. If you’re going to at least try to defend yourself then you’re going to need that.”

    Venom might as well have dripped off her words. The crackle of magick around her made his hair stand on end. Still, he did not move. “No,” he began softly. “I won’t fight you because you’re right, and whatever you might do now would be well deserved. I only hope you don’t prove Ciara right.”


    219 words

  9. The hallway was long enough for my head to stop hurting so bad. Billy walked behind me and to my side, as if he was making sure I wouldn’t run.

    Run? I wouldn’t have known where to run. I hadn’t exactly chosen this new life.

    Neither had Billy, for that matter. He just happened to be Johnny-on-the-spot when I was attacked. He ran them off, but the damage was done.

    I’d been delirious with pain and fear and have no clear memory of how we got back to Billy’s place. At some point, I tasted blood in my mouth, the hot, coppery liquid lighting me on fire, and then it was all chaos.

    In the week that followed, Billy had been my lifeline. He taught me about who I was now and what I needed to do to survive. Twice, he and I went out so I could learn how to feed, but I found the whole thing repulsive, and only drank what he’d forced me to.

    We reached Her door. Billy hadn’t told me anything about Her other than to not piss Her off. As if I knew how to do that.

    As I reached for the doorknob, Billy grabbed my arm, hard. I slapped it away – I’d had enough of that shit in my life – and glared at him.

    “Good,” he said. “You can get angry. You’re going to need that if you want to make it in this life. But not now. Not with Her. Got it?”

    250 Maybe this is turning into something words

  10. Cold Irony

    Ozone. I coughed, feeling my way around. I winced when my hand touch the cockpit doors. Too hot. No one could have survived.

    We have to get out.

    I couldn’t tell if it was just a thought but the steward was not moving. Untethered I reach towards him, only to have a hand latch onto my wrist.

    “He’s gone. We have to move.”

    It was Peabody, His voice bringing me back from the edge as he pulled me to the emergency exit. I didn’t want to leave but staying meant death.

    I blinked as the roaring in my ears increased. The white fog that rolled through the cabin filled my mind. Numbness was settling in.

    Peabody pushed me out the door. I fell to the ground and rolled as something landed next to me. I assumed it was Peabody, but it was a survival pack.

    “You’re going to need that,” his voice, a whisper on the wind. “Run.”

    As I ran, I realized they were the last words I’d hear from him.

    I ran, and kept running until I collapsed. I knew it wouldn’t take the elemental long to catch up, so I opened the pack and took stock. Instead of banishing equipment, or even a fire extinguisher, I found a romance novel, some astronaut ice cream, and a box of Kleenex. Peabody had tossed me the wrong pack.

    I wonder if tears will stop a demon. Somehow, I doubt it.

    241 words, not including title

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