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 593 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 post (so we easily notify 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, Bluesky, MeWe, and Mastodon, etc.
Our Judge for Week 593:
Scientist, Dad, and flash fiction author, Eric Martell.
And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.
The Prompt:
“I’ve always wanted to.”
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!I’ve always wanted to
Reveries
Danny made his way to the Rosa Luxemburg, an old tugboat in need of repair. Paint as dark red as dried blood was peeling above the water line which suggested serious issues below. Pausing along side the moored vessel he hailed the owner: “Frank Sangster, you aboard?”
“Might be,” came a voice from the cabin. “Who’s asking?”
“My name’s Dan Hawkins. I’m looking into Hobart Walcott’s death.”
“That’s been done already. The old reprobate drowned.”
“I’ve been asked to take a second look.”
“Maisie, huh! Dead is dead. She ought to know that. Hell, she teaches down Island at the University. Dead languages if I remember correctly.”
“Can we talk, anyways?”
Sangster popped up from below the deck of his boat. He was chunky fellow, seventyish, day’s old scruffy beard, flesh hanging under his chin hiding his Adam’s apple, the requisite Captains cap atop his expansive head.
“I’ll give you a few minutes. Getting tired talking about death, though.”
Danny offered a smile, asked, “Come aboard?”
“As long as you don’t fall into the chuck and become fish food.” Sangster gave a sizeable grin and added, “I’ve always wanted to say that.”
Danny guessed that he probably said it quite often. He smiled back as if he enjoyed Sangster’s tasteless joke and stepped aboard.
“I’ve been told you and Walcott didn’t always see eye to eye?”
Sangster huffed and puffed and then sat down on a deckchair.
“Hobie was a right-wing nut job. Don’t miss him a bit.”
249 WIP
@billmelaterplea
“Hey, can we stop at the library before we go back home? I want to check out some movies since I’m gonna be locked in my house.”
“Yeah, I think we could do that. I haven’t been to the library in forever.” Emily zipped up her coat and pulled on her hat before slinging her purse over her head. “I hear they let you check out audiobooks. Have you tried audiobooks yet?”
Triss shook her head as she headed toward the doors of the clinic. “No, I don’t really like people reading to me.”
“Oh, I’ve always wanted to try them because then I can get other things like laundry or dishes done while listening.” Emily grinned. “Of course, you’re supposed to read to relax and if I’m doing chores—”
Out of nowhere, a body collided with Emily, slamming her into the wall beside the doors of the clinic. She cried out as the person hit her in the side before turning to Triss. Triss tried to scramble back out of the way, but her ungainly body made it hard to maneuver and her heel slipped on a piece of ice.
She started to fall, her arms windmilling to regain her balance, but one arm was caught in an iron grip and she was yanked up, turned, and her arm pinned painfully behind her back. Her nose recognized the stench of her ex-husband’s soap before her brain caught on to what was happening.
“Hey, Darla. Long time no see.”
250 ineligible #WIP words
@SiobhanMuir on Bluesky
“Sandy? Sandy!”
She removed her headphones and moved closer. “Whadda ya got, Mo?”
“What are thinking for lunch? I know the sea bass is really good but the smell of grilled lamb is killing me.”
Sandy wiped sweat from her face. “Poolside or restaurant?”
“Poolside. That guy from Sardinia…”
“…Who looks like a cologne model…”
“…Who looks like a cologne model, is coming back. I ain’t going nowhere.”
“Mo, you’re shameless. The tropics always makes you go scooters.”
“Sandy, how come you won’t hook up with nobody? That guy from California was tryin’ to buy you a drink all night and you just said no and stayed on the dance floor.”
“Come on, Mo. He was wearing a Casio watch, not even a Rolex or nothing. A girl’s gotta have standards.”
They both laughed and wiped the sweat away. They cherished this game. Maureen suddenly appeared melancholy.
“You okay, Mo?”
Maureen’s lip quivered, a tear fell down her cheek. “Do you think we’ll get there one day? You know, the tropics, cushy retirement, dancing all night and pool all day? I’ve always wanted to. We will, won’t we?”
Sandy knew women over 40, working the assembly line in Gary, Indiana, don’t retire in the tropics. They don’t retire at all. They will work until they can’t, and shuffle their broken bodies around a doublewide until they can’t.
Sandy smiled and gave her a thumbs-up while replacing her headset and putting her gloves back on.
“Sure, Mo. Sure we will.”
250 words
@J_Thomas_Ganzer
BUTTON…
“I’ve always wanted to do this. Just push at it. Hammer it down. It’d be the greatest thing. And then afterwards, there wouldn’t be any recriminations. Everyone else would be gone.” Scott grinned and jabbed at the button, first with two fingers and then using his fist. The launch indicator lights remained stubbornly green, the missiles still sleeping, their payloads of nuclear destruction waiting patiently for their release.
“And that’s why we have fail-safes,” Harry said, looking nervous. “Christ Almighty. I think you would. I really worry about you sometimes. Remind me to never nominate you for a position of authority. You’d be the end of us all. You’re deranged.”
Scott shrugged. “It’d be such a blast, though. Wouldn’t it? I’d be in this bunker. Tucked away, not a care in the world. And global warming wouldn’t ever be a problem. The nuclear winter would take care of that.”
“Hmmm. Yes. You’ve got it all worked out. But what would you do then? How would you pass your time? Would you count corpses every night if you couldn’t sleep? Or would you sleep soundly, not a care in the world? I’d need to have someone down here with me for company. Not that I’d launch an attack. I’d hate to have the responsibility to do that.”
“And that’s why you’d never be chosen. You’re weak-minded. Self-possessed. I’m exactly the kind of person they’d go for. Somebody who wouldn’t question his orders. A man who’d do what he was told.”
250 words (including title) – twothirdzrasta.blogspot.com
“Do you know what she wants? The Wood Witch?”
Tenko asked their tigerling guide, Hagane no Fuyu. Hagane cocked her head quizzically.
“How do you mean?”
“Why has she allied with the Fire Tribe? What is she hoping to accomplish?”
Hagane snorted and returned her icy eyes to the overgrown path ahead.
“It is said she seeks to save the forest from civilization. She’ll turn on the Fire Tribe in time. She would have us remain dumb animals.”
Tenko considered this as Hagane led the elves down into a hidden ravine.
“After seeing you dispatch her oni, I am convinced that it is your people she truly fears.” Hagane continued. “You and your gods.”
“We share her fear of our gods,” Tenko sighed.
Though Hagane tried to hide her interest, Tenko saw the tigerling’s ears perk up. No one knew what became of the First Gods. The Old Gods that replaced them were dangerous, amoral predators at best.
Hagane motioned for the elves to crouch down before drawing back foliage to reveal a yawning maw in the rockface across the ravine. The cave seemed to have been pulled open by tree roots, twisting like the teeth of an ancient deity.
The white tigerling grinned hungrily, “I’ve always wanted to see elven martial arts masters in action!”
Tenko wouldn’t describe any of their young party as masters. Also, an alternative was forming in her mind.
“Would it be acceptable if we ended the threat of the Wood Witch without killing her?”
250 Tale of Tenko words
@DavidALudwig on Bluesky
Alchemy of words
Inspiration breathes beneath the undercurrents of the world at large. A step beyond, always out of reach, it hangs there like a flag, waiting to unfurl and strike its colors. It is the artist who gives this breath, though they will never admit, they were trying to inspire anyone but themselves.
Art for art’s sake is alien to the audience. They see, they feel but they never realize why the artist shakes their head, and their eyes well with tears.
“It’s beautiful,” they say as they look for meaning, never realizing that while beautiful, it wasn’t what the artist saw when they started.
Critics will argue about the allegory and the message, the depth of emotions that wells within them. They try to understand but how can they, when the artist doesn’t always know?
They weren’t looking for an answer, they weren’t speaking to an audience. When asked all they can do is shrug, and the only answer they can give is, “I’ve always wanted to.”
It is the truth we hide behind bemused smiles. It is the magic of transforming words to pictures and pictures into words.
188 words (not including title)
@mishmhem
#ThursThreads Week 593 is now CLOSED. Thanks to everyone who wrote this week and I hope to catch you next week.