#ThursThreads – Tying Tales Together – Week 580

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 580 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 social media handle or email in the comment (so we can find you online)
  • 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 572:

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:

“She had never been there.”

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!

13 Replies to “#ThursThreads – Tying Tales Together – Week 580”

  1. Witnesses

    At Union Bay, Danny pulled over to stretch his legs, something he’d been doing much of this trip. Sitting on a log next to a dock, looking out over Baynes Sound to Denman Island, a local place he planned to visit time permitting, he considered next steps. The court often handed down a decision in favour of the mother and June had that going for her. A father whacking an obstreperous child was fairly common and the tenor of the times still bolstered the old biblical adage that if one spared the rod one was bound to spoil the child.

    Early on in their marriage, Anne had made Danny read Benjamin Spock’s book, The Common Sense Book of Baby and Child Care. It was an eye opener and together they had embraced the approach of love over force in raising their two kids.

    It was not always easy. Child rearing in the fifties was extremely complicated. Numerous friends still embraced the use of a strap as a means of controlling kids. Television shows, unrealistic as they were, helped other parents bring a more loving thoughtful approach to parenting. The Donna Reed Show, Leave It to Beaver and the like all had such reasonable nurturers, adults who never thumped the kiddies.

    Danny realized that he was getting too philosophical. Carol would make an okay witness, but she had never been there in the house with her former neighbours.

    The custody case would still need a firsthand observer of June’s parenting.

    250 WIP


  2. Certain there was too much ash as soon as she opened the urn and peered inside, Esther picked up the phone. Crammed in, ash vied to spill out over the edges of the large vase with the shell design on the front because Cameron had loved going to the beach.
    “Hello, Statham Animal Hospice? Joy speaking.”
    “Hi Joy. Ehhhmmm… Joy–or–or–or Joey?”
    “Excuse me?”
    “Is your name Joy? As in Joy to the world?”
    “Joy. Joy speaking.” Joy sounded reedy and impatient. “How can I help with your inquiry?”
    “My little Cameron’s ashes were just delivered here.” Maybe, she thought with a tinge of guilt, she should have attended the cremation service for the little guy. But she had never been there, and didn’t want to attend dog funerals or animal crematoria – even for her own pets. “I had subscribed to your Elite service, and the urn arrived a few minutes ago.”
    “Very good, yes. I’m very sorry for your loss. You must’ve loved him.”
    “Joy… Cameron was a chihuahua.”
    “Awwww. Lovely.”
    “He generated an awful lot of ash for a chihuahua. Like, I don’t think I have the right amount.”
    “Okay. Please hold.” The line went dead.
    Esther redialed.
    “You are not allowed to call this number,” claimed a recorded voice.
    Enraged, Esther stormed to her safe and pulled out her gun. Loading it, she slipped it into her purse, took that and the urn, fled the house, and scrambled into her car.

    246 words

  3. Fiona was lost. And afraid. Too many people pressed close, talking and jostling. She tried to understand the huge map. Buses. Trains. Which was which and where did they go? Stepping back, she stumbled into someone.

    “Oh, mercy,” she cried, whipping around. “My apologies, surely!”

    The woman she’d rammed smiled. “No harm done. You look confused.”

    “I am, yes. An’ a wee bit lost.” Fiona smiled shyly. “Well, truth be told, I’m a lot lost.”

    “No worries. Where are you going?”

    And wasn’t that the question. “I think I’m lookin’ for Telescope Hill.”

    “Might that be Telegraph Hill?”

    Fiona considered. “Maybe? There’s a pub nearby.” Fiona suddenly brightened.

    “Clancy’s?” Maura breathed, regained control. “My name is Maura Brannigan. What’s yours?”


    “Short for Fiona, yes?” At the girl’s nod, she asked, “Are you safe?”

    “Yah,” Fee whispered. “For the first time in forever, I’m safe.” She sighed. “A bloomin’ igit, I am. Bowie’ll be so worried.”

    Maura grabbed her cell phone. “Do you know his number?”

    Fiona shook her head.

    With no other choice, Maura called a number she should not know by heart.

    A gruff male voice answered, “Ronan O’Connor.”

    “Are any of your boys missing a sweet little redhead?”

    “Where are you? I’ll send a car.”

    “There’s the T. I’ll get Fee home. See you in about thirty,” She clicked off. After all, she had never been there and what a perfect opportunity to visit the infamous Clancy’s Irish Pub and beard the dragon in his lair.

  4. It took twenty minutes to grab all the horses and calm them down after Allira ascertained there wasn’t a threat. To be honest, her own heart had shot out of her chest when the howl ripped through the forest and it took her several seconds to figure out what had happened. Then she swore and rushed to try to untangle the horses as their tack had slipped off their backs and made a mess.

    She’d finally calmed them all and got them tacked up just as the men ran out of the entrance to the Tombs. Though she had never been there before, she could tell it was a freaky place that probably should be left alone. Only three of the four men who’d gone in came bolting for the horses. Their faces were whiter than a burial shroud and none of them were joking anymore.

    “What happened? Where’s Danville?”

    Allira released the tether rope holding the horses’ leads. She swung up into her saddle, but no one said anything as they kicked their mounts into a gallop.

    Allira paused, holding her mount still as she turned back to the Tombs, scanning for the last knight to come out. His horse tugged at the reins, trying to follow the others, but she forced it to wait.

    Come on, Danville. Where are you?

    But after ten minutes, he still hadn’t appeared, and she realized he wouldn’t be coming. The Tombs had claimed their first hero of the year.

    247 ineligible #WIP words

  5. Georgia proceeded to take out her phone battery and phone with a hammer lest it retained any information for she had never been there. Here, where the body lay on the floor of her boyfriend of ten years. He’d attacked her but they’d never believe that. She turned up the thermostat to raise the temperature of the body and sku the time of death.
    Wiping down the surfaces, making sure none of Henry’s blood was on her person; Georgia stripped off her clothes showered and put on Henry’s clothing. Placing her clothing in a bag hiding them under her shirt. Placing Henry’s ball cap on her head with her long hair hidden inside she went out the door waved at the neighbour who shouted, “Hi Henry.” Driving his car, she drove to a nearby garbage bin, dumped her clothes and onto the long-term airport parking way in the back. She wiped the car clean making sure the seat was back.
    Georgia walked home through back alleys entering her back yard, making sure not to be seen she went into the house and stripped again burning Henry’s clothes in her fireplace and then sweeping up the ashes.
    She thought she thought of everything, but the cops arrested her anyway. Georgia pleaded self-defence and surprisingly enough her lawyer said they’d win, until they showed her image on Henry’s ring camera and they concluded murder in the first degree. Georgia wished she hadn’t never been there for she’d be executed tomorrow.
    248 words

  6. The star winked out, and then it was gone. A point of light, sustenance, and warmth for billions. Amelia’s world had been in orbit about it, near the mid-point of its Goldilocks zone, ideally placed for the development of sentient lifeforms.

    “You need to purge your brain,” Hobson said, filling a syringe. “It’s the only way you can survive it. The residual effects will radiate outward, and in another few hours, you’ll be catatonic.”

    “It’s the coward’s way out. I need to feel some regret. Otherwise, I’m just shirking my responsibilities. I owe it to my family and all the billions I’ve never known. They need to be mourned by someone.” Amelia stared at the spot that would soon be unoccupied, the plasma cloud burning back to become empty vacuum.

    “Just consider it an emotional reset. A way to accept the inevitabilities of fate. You’ll tear yourself apart if you allow yourself to feel. It’s either the needle or the yawning space beyond the airlock.”

    The bridge of their ship was like a fragile but protective bubble, sheltering the last surviving specimens of humanity. Beyond the warmth and their flickering lights, there was nothing but the cold and dark, devoid of everything else they’d created.

    “Suit yourself,” said Hobson. “I hope we’ll meet again on the other side.” She sank the needle into her own arm and closed her eyes. All her memories of Home World would soon be erased; it would be as though she had never been there.

    250 words – twothirdzrasta.blogspot.com

  7. Sunshine extended her wings and took to the sky. She followed the water inland. “I would see how far the water travels inland, and where it goes.”

    She was in a new part of the world for her. She had never been there. But, having watched the earthquake, and the ensuing tsunami, she found herself wondering if any villages or towns were flooded by the waves.

    She flew inland, over the flooded landscape. It took time. Sunshine was a strong flyer, but she was no white magic yielder like Mystica. She had a top speed, but she couldn’t maintain that for long. She had to settle for moving slower, so she could cover a longer distance.

    As she flew she saw no signs of villages or towns, only flooded mountain land, with trees and brush. All of it was flooded. She continued inland until she finally reached the end of the flooding. She’d seen no signs of people. That alleviated her fears. “That is the most destructive thing I’ve ever seen.”

    The machines spoke to her then, “There will be aftershocks.”


    “And they will cause more flooding.”

    “How much?”

    “We don’t know.”

    She kept flying until the sun finally began to set. “I’m going to need a place to stay for the night.”

    She found a small cluster of trees on the side of a mountain. “This looks safe. It’s been a while now since I reached the edge of the flooding.” She landed and prepared to rest.

    249 Words

  8. “Arashiko stealing the keyring gives us a chance to sneak the captured priests out quietly.”

    Tenko explained as she illustrated her plan in the dirt with her knife. Even using such a crude tool, she couldn’t resist adding the calligraphy flourishes she had drilled for decades.

    Sora scowled his disapproval.

    “Thirty captives from the heart of an encampment with over a hundred enemy combatants? I wouldn’t call that much of a chance.”

    Tenko’s friend, Mana, shrugged amicably. “I wouldn’t underestimate Tenko’s planning.”

    The general’s son kept his attention on the young scholar.

    “Have you ever infiltrated an enemy compound?”

    She had never.

    “Been there, done that.”

    Arashiko interjected, more focused on the dagger balanced on her fingertip than the party’s planning. Tenko nodded and tapped her illustration.

    “Arashiko left by a narrow trail around the cliff the captive cage is against. She can get back in that way and unlock the cage. I’ll cover her and the priests from atop the cliff. You and Mana wait for them at the trail outlet.”

    Sora shook his head.

    “One of us should stay with you.”

    Tenko’s tone remained soft but there was no give in her voice or her expression.

    “No. From the trailhead, you’ll be in range to assist the priests or I as needed, without having to sneak in your armor.”

    Armed with information, she was indomitable.

    227 Tale of Tenko words
    @DavidALudwig on Bluesky

  9. Park and Run

    The days were getting shorter, and while the weather was still warm, Heather had taken to visiting the local parks, taking pictures to inspire her artwork. She knew when the weather changed, she was not going to want to leave her bed, let alone drive along the back roads looking for rustic bridges and scenes to paint.

    The latest one she’d passed one day when commuting to work, and had made a mental note to check it out. Years had passed since she’d seen it, but it was hard to forget a name as ominous sounding as ‘The Devil’s Backbone.’

    It was a Tuesday, and the first hint of autumn hung in the air. She could smell the decaying leaves that always reminded her of spice cookies, and as she left her car she heard the sound of a nearby brook and the yipping of a young fox playing somewhere ahead.

    A shadow passed over her followed by a cold silence. Heather, suddenly alert felt the hair on the back of her neck rise and ran back to her car, Every fiber of her being told her something was wrong, She had learned a long time ago not to question the feeling. She left as quickly as she’d come.

    That night the news reported that seven bodies had been found in the park, mauled by what witnesses insisted was a bear, but Heather knew better.

    She had never been there before, and she never went there again.

    248 words not including title

  10. This place is beautiful! Fall colors pop against a crystal clear blue sky and the temperature is perfect. Iowa is so finicky in the fall and I know nice days like this aren’t going to last for long. Walking along the path with Mom, I pause to snap a couple of photos.

    “I see why this is your favorite state park,” I say, trying to catch the reflection of the trees on the lake. “It’s beautiful.”

    “I’ve been coming here for years. You grandmother always loved it, too. When your dad and I first took her and Dad camping, she had never been there. We never traveled much growing up, since Dad hated it and had the farm, and with eight kids, it was hard to go places. That’s why we took you and your brothers so much.”

    “No complaints here,” I said, snapping another picture. “I just can’t picture Grandma and Grandpa traveling.”

    Mom laughs, as we end the trail and return to my car. “Trust me. The ten minute trip from their house to the campground was enough traveling for your grandfather.”

    We both start laughing, getting in the car to return home. Northern Iowa in the fall is my favorite, even as much as I love spring and summer weather. A walk with Mom is even better in the fall colors.

    224 words

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