Welcome back to the home of #ThursThreads. Wow. Year 11. Holy smokes! Y’all kept with me past a decade. I’m astounded.
Today is Thursday and that means it’s time to start flashing, like we have for the past 11 years. I had no idea when I started it would keep going! This is Week 574 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 574:
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:
“She had no choice.”
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!
Stella
One morning, after a pleasant night’s stopover at the coziest B and B Gronsky had ever stayed in, not that he’d ever really stayed in one that he could remember, though in his mind, he’d imagined a number of them. This one satisfied his every wish, a cabin on a lake, fresh breeze at night, a delicious salmon barbecue prepared by the ebullient owner, dreamlike.
After dinner, the three of them were sitting on fine old wooden Adirondack chairs, sipping red wine, easing into sleep, perhaps. Anthea asked him to talk a bit more about her grandmother.
“I know we’ve talked a lot about her, how you first met, your love, and I know it must hurt you…her leaving with my mother and uncle…I know…”
He shushed her and said, “My hurt is so far back in time. You have a right to think of her in some positive light. She eventually told you who you were, where you came from…I’d like to think as she aged, drew closer to death that she finally realized that she had no choice but to finally be honest…”
“But even then,” Andrea pursued it, “to just up and disappear with your children…and not even have told you her real name…”
As he did often, Gronsky repeated the Stella mantra…Stella Fishbine who wasn’t Stella Fishbine, who had stolen Stella’s identity even before they had met and married…what a sad embezzler of love she had been.
He knew he would have a restless night.
250 WIP
@billmelaterplea
I stared at the dead body at my feet and screamed.
“The guy’s dead,” another voice said.
“It’s all right love. The police will say, She had no choice.” an old lady said.
I didn’t answer, I was terrified that I’d be arrested. I couldn’t go to jail!!
She told the police, “That man attacked her. He tried to debase her. She fought back and he hit his head on the cement. It was simple self-defence.”
The police then interviewed me at the station letting me go, declaring that it was clearly self-defence. Leaving I spotted the old lady. I politely went over to her.
“You’re lucky I saw everything, she said smiling.
“Yes, thank-you,” I acknowledged.
“Can I give you a ride home in my car?” She asked.
I nodded and we went to her car. Driving, suddenly she appeared younger, I gasped, she now appeared my age.
“Now dear, we can be candid, can’t we?”
I nodded.
“You must be more careful poison can be detected in an autopsy; where as I just suck in some of their essence.: Despite that your snack was still delicious, despite the poison as I was due for an upgrade.”
“You know I’m a Basilisk?”
“Yes, child, but I suggest you find your food more carefully.”
I obeyed and left the next day moving to the country. where food was plentiful and people went missing and nobody noticed. As for the goddess she’s looking very youthful these days, but she’s always moving.
250 words
@SweetSheil
Maggie wanted three things—a hot bath, a stiff drink, and a good night’s sleep. They were short-staffed at the ER and she’d pulled a double shift. She stood, undecided, in the front hall of her grandmother’s house. Booze or bath first?
Outside, braking tires screamed like a bansidhe. She heard a thud then a car door slamming and squealing tires once more. Instinctively, she rushed to the door but hesitated as her hand gripped the doorknob. Pressing her ear against the heavy wood, she listened. Nothing. Standing on tiptoes, she put her eye to the peephole. Like a blotch of shadow, something sprawled on her front steps.
She did not want to open the door and go out there. “ER nurse,” she muttered and knew. She had no choice. Gripping her phone tightly in one hand, she flipped the deadbolt and unlocked the door. Opening it a crack, she peered out. No cars moving on the street. No pedestrians either. There were few lights on in the houses around her. It was after midnight so no surprise.
Squaring her shoulders, Maggie opened the door and stuck her head out. She scouted the entire street. Nothing moved. She crept out and eased down the steps to the body collapsed there. She hunkered down. Male. Breathing. Bleeding. A lot. Her training kicked in. She recognized the man. Her very handsome and sexy next-door neighbor. His eyes opened.
“Have I died and gone t’heaven?” he slurred.
“Since I’m no angel, not hardly.”
****
250 Moonstruck Mafia: Boston WIP words
@SilverJames_
That’s what I should be doing, going out among the people.
But she had no choice but to sit there and learn what the Lord Regent was teaching. Except that wasn’t true. She was the Keeper. She could make her own prudent decisions to go where she wanted when she was needed.
“Casirra. Time to get up.”
Her Tzalorin companion grumbled a little and yawned widely before stretching their wings and straightening up.
:Go now?:
She loved how the creature communicated – a combination of words, emotions, and images brought their meaning across clearly. She nodded.
“We’re going to go exploring.” Diana rose and padded out of the People’s Hall back to her own quarters.
The Tzalorin chirruped a happy sound and flitted up to her shoulder as she pushed through the door to her quarters past the guards. She mentally rolled her eyes. She’d have to find a way to slip past them so she could finally get out and see some things as the Keeper, without being in ceremonial robes. She wanted to fit in and yet still be her role.
As if by magic, Yssa met her at the doors with a welcoming smile.
“Good day, Keeper. How can I assist you?”
“How did you know I’d be making my escape from the People’s Hall despite the Lord Regent’s directive?” Diana narrowed her eyes as she smiled.
Yssa shrugged. “Just a hunch.”
243 ineligible #WIP words
@SiobhanMuir
AUDIENCE
The movie had been on for half an hour, and she was restless.
“I don’t get it. And what’s with the Smurfs? And why is Ripley playing video games in space? And why haven’t they brought the face huggers in yet? I’d rather we were watching The Human Centipede or Friday the 13th – at least they’re both semi-believable. And the blood you’d see on those would be red. And not some weird shade of blue.”
“But it’s James Cameron. And you liked Titanic. And they say this will be the biggest-grossing film since that. It cost more than two-hundred and thirty million, and it’s already made a profit. How many other films these days are going to do that?”
“I don’t know. Does it really matter? And why do you never buy the popcorn I like? That woman in the next row; she’s as bored as I am. I’m betting she had no choice about coming here either.”
It was going to be a long film, but it would feel even longer. And there was no way it was going to get any better.
“The CGI on this is amazing. It’s state of the art. It could be live action; it’s that good.”
“It’s okay if you like Huckleberry Hound. But I was a girl when I grew out of that. And you still haven’t said anything about the popcorn you bought. A woman’s gotta have some salt to lick off her lips when she’s watching a movie.”
250 words (including title) – twothirdzrasta.blogspot.com
Everyone told Ronnie that she had no choice but to do what she had done, but everyone was wrong. She had had a choice just like Jacky had had a choice and just like everyone going back to the primordial ooze had had a choice. Everyone didn’t have to get their heartrate under control when they woke up in the middle of the night screaming, though. Everyone hadn’t had to run to the bathroom and fight against puking in a fancy restaurant after watching someone cut into a steak that was still bloody.
When it came right down to it, Ronnie thought, Everyone didn’t know shit about fuckall.
She’d tried to go back to her life. She showed up at the bar on Friday nights and the ballet on Saturdays. She wore all black to steal jewelry and a pinstriped suit to steal portfolios. She dreamt up schemes and solved problems and acted like the world was her oyster.
But that afternoon kept coming back to her. The way the job had seemed off kilter from the beginning. The way Jacky was calm from the get-go, and Jacky was never calm. The way it felt when she saw the double-cross.
The way her knife felt entering the stomach of a man she’d known as long as she’d known anyone.
And now, no matter how much Ronnie pretended, that life was over.
She shouldered her backpack a little higher, took another drink of water, and headed out. She didn’t tell anyone.
250 words
@drmag00
Tenko loaded her pack with all the tools and supplies she was certain she could carry. She had needed to sell most of her belongings to outfit herself for this expedition. She had no choice.
If the elders wouldn’t lead their people through Tigers’ Forest, then the young scholar would do it herself. She strapped the pack closed before attaching her father’s bow and quiver to the outside. Shouldering the heavy pack, Tenko finally tucked her mother’s daisho through her worn sash.
“Ready to go, Little Sister?”
Tenko flinched at her childhood friend’s voice. She hated when he called her that. He was merely ten years older than her, after all.
“I have to—”
Tenko stopped short as she turned to see her fashionable friend in her doorway, sporting his own pack and a sturdy hiking staff.
“Mana, are you going somewhere?”
“With you, of course,” Mana smiled winningly.
Tenko’s heart surged to her throat. She clutched her hands in front of her.
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“And you’ll never have to,” Mana placed a hand firmly over Tenko’s. “I won’t let you face the Tigers’ Forest alone.”
“But what about your painting?”
Tenko wanted Mana with her more than anything, but if anything happened to him because of her, she’d never forgive herself. He was her martial arts training partner. She wasn’t confident in either of their abilities.
“Maybe I’ll find inspiration in the forest! Besides, I’ll never find my destiny hiding from the world.”
250 Tale of Tenko words
@DavidALudwig
Move and Counter Move
“Do you believe in fate?” the man asked as he poured a shot of amoretto over the ice cream.
“I believe in free will,” she answered sucking her tongue over her teeth and flashing him a Cheshire smile.
“But is free will, free will if it’s preordained?”
“The ineffable vs effible? If that’s what we’re talking does it really matter if I believe it’s my decision?”
“Since when does belief figure into this debate?”
“You asked if I believe, so you are the one who brought belief into the picture before the conversation even began.”
“But if you think about it, does it change the outcome?”
“Knowing the question beforehand? The only way things will change is if you know the actual outcome and then move against it.”
“So the question isn’t really the question, the real question is the answer.”
“And what you do with it,”
He paused a moment, studying the drink before him and adding some whipped cream, “But does the act of being aware of the possibilities change the outcome?”
“If you move contrary to the flow of time, does time stop? Or is it just your perception?”
“So you don’t believe in free will as much as you believe in counterflow?”
“I believe, I should cut you off before you mix another drink,” she answered as she dipped her spoon into the concoction he had made for her, she had no choice if she wanted to make her point, which only went to prove his.
250 words not including the title
@mishmhem
#ThursThreads is now CLOSED. Thanks to everyone who wrote this week and I hope to catch you next week.