Welcome back to the home of #ThursThreads for Week 609.
Today is Thursday and that means it’s time to start flashing on #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 609:
Fantasy Author, and Holder of Several Stories, David Ludwig.
And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.
The Prompt:
“She’s missing.”
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!
Maybe I should be trying to enjoy myself, but I can’t help the uneasy twisting in my gut. The crowd is larger than I anticipated, with revelers dancing to the upbeat music making it difficult to keep track of Celeste and Kieran. My nerves are beyond frayed at this point, and the only thing keeping me from retreating back to the safety of the palace is my sister’s refusal to join me.
So I stay, rooted to the only spot that allows me a decent view of the entire dancefloor, and hope that they tire out eventually so we can go home.
“Not keen on joining in?” Nolan stands too close, his words practically brushing my ear.
“Clearly.”
“Good luck, Nolan!” Celeste shouts over the music, face tinted pink from excitement and dancing. “She doesn’t know what she’s missing.” She and Kieran giggle before rejoining the ebb and flow of the bodies in a familiar synchronized dance.
“You’d think with the weight of a kingdom on their shoulders, they’d be more responsible.” I cross my arms and lean back against the wall, my eyes following their progress.
“Maybe that’s all the more reason to take a break…”
“You don’t strike me as the laid back type.”
“I’m not, but I know when I need to relax.” He offers me his hand with a smile, tilting his head toward the crowd. The music has changed, but it’s a familiar song – one I’ve danced to a thousand times. “One dance won’t hurt.”
250 fantasy WIP words
@avilak90.bsky.social
I love how your twisted the prompt into “She doesn’t know what she’s missing.”
“Have you seen Helen lately?” Sara asked.
“God, yeah. She’s aging terribly these days, isn’t she? Karl replied.
“Karl… you can’t half be cruel.’ Though she couldn’t disagree that Helen looked like she must have had the hardest of paper rounds as a kid. She sighed to compose herself. ‘She’s missing.”
Karl felt guilty about his runaway mouth, he knew he should always wait for some context before setting his tongue going—but never did.
“What’s the story then?” He asked.
“What story?”
“About Helen’s disappearance. Where was she, and what had she been up to?” He wondered who with too, but thought better of asking.
“Helen’s disappeared!? Bloody hell, I’ve only just seen her.”
“What? You said she’s missing.”
Sometimes getting a story out of Sara was harder than pulling teeth with one hand whilst trying to get blood out of a stone with the other..
“No, she’s just been. Lost her car key somewhere. It can only be between the car and the kitchen but you know what she’s like. Would lose her head if it wasn’t screwed on.”
Karl was wondering if the pot was black or was it the kettle?
“Bloody hell, Sara. Her key’s missing, not Helen? Please consider finishing your sentences occasionally.” He spotted a car key by the kettle. That was one disappearance dealt with anyway. But where was Helen if her car was outside and the key in the kitchen? He decided not to ask, he wasn’t prepared for the convoluted answer.
_________
WC: 250
@zevonesque Bluesky/Insta
I really enjoyed these characters and their interaction.
Old Movies
Afterwards, after the unsatisfactory meeting with Ted Scott’s parents, his adoptive parents, a couple who had given him the willies, whose demeanour suggested some gap existed in their makeup as humans, who had insisted flatly, monotonically, that, “Ted isn’t like that. He is in control of his emotions. He would never sneak into his own home…not the way you’re saying that woman said….no, never…” he thought about a movie he and Anne had gone to at the Capital Theatre a few years earlier. Neither of them were science fiction fans but friends had said, “You have to go see that Body Snatcher movie, guys…scare the pants off both of you…”
So, they had gone, did not lose their pants, but, as far-fetched as the movie had seemed, it remained, for the next few months, a touchstone for their dinner conversations about neighbours and politicians, anyone in their orbit who seemed just a mite stiff, a little off.
Where in the past they might observe of a particularly dotty neighbour, Clarice Fisher, that, “she’s got a screw loose,” or, more kindly, “she’s missing Eisenhower again,” Eisenhower being an ancient tabby, one of a half dozen cats the neighbour had, who were always off on a run, they now had pod people references to utilize.
While the Scott’s had come across to him as pod people, blank emotionally, the sad fact was that they were simply human.
Irrevocably human.
There were no pod people.
Just old movies that perpetually replayed.
250 WIP
@billmelaterplea
I love turning the prompt into “She’s missing Eisenhower again.”
“Have you heard anything?”
“Other than she’s missing? No!!”
“Sharon, then why are you still here?”
“I’ve looked everywhere!! Someone has to stay by the phone.”
“She’s been missing for an entire day anything could have happened to Tina.”
“She loves us and we love her. We’ll find her unless someone took her.”
“No one would take her, would they?”
“I shouldn’t have said, that let’s just go find her. We can set the old answer machine up and the fliers have both my cell phone and the home phone number on them.”
My cell phone rang.
“I read your flier. I think I may have found her,” The voice spouted.
The person then gave a name and an address. John and I hurried over.
Ringing the doorbell, l I hoped it was her.
A big burly man with tattoos a cat purring in his arms answered the door anther cat curled around his feet purring.
“She got scared by a dog that mauled her a bit but she’s okay,” the man said.
“Tina,” I cried, she looked at me, putting her nose in the air like it was all my fault she’d been lost.
Tina then jumped from his arms and putting up a dainty paw clawed me. She then gently nipped at me a love bite and then taking a leap onto a nearby chair she jumped into my arms. She’s be an inside cat from now on.
240 words
@SweetSheil
Excellent pacing and urgency with a fun twist at the end.
The preparations for her celebration of life continued around him. Calling it a celebration felt like a punch in the gut. He answered questions when they were posed to him robotically, barely remembering his responses as soon as he uttered them. Except when they asked about music. There would be no pre-recorded music played through speakers to fill the background noise. No, he would play one final time for his love.
Alone again, he sat at his beloved Steinway and let the music flow through him as his hands swept up and down the keyboard. He played familiar songs, some of her favorites, then segued into something new but never to be heard again. The music discordant and melancholy echoing his emotions.
His cell phone vibrated across the top of the piano, distracting him. He answered blindly, then stood abruptly, pushing the piano bench back with a screech. “What do you mean, she’s missing? How do you misplace a body!?”
The answer he received infuriated him more. “That’s my wife you lost, you incompetent imbecile! Find her!” He threw his phone across the room, not caring that it broke on impact.
Pent up full of fury, he roughly grabbed his bottle of whiskey. As he turned to the balcony, the decanter slipped from his fingers, shattering on the ground. The expensive Macallan whisky splashed over his shoes and pantlegs, but he paid it no mind.
She was staring back at him from the other side of the balcony door.
@mlgammella
249 words
After previous installments, now I wonder if she’s really there this time–or even has been sans body the previous times.
“She’s missing.”
Sword asked Rose where Sunshine was, and Rose had answered, “She’s missing.”
It wasn’t a good answer. It made it sound like Sunshine had vanished into thin air. “Missing?” Sword held up his hands in a universal stop sign, “Missing?”
“Well. Yes. In the sense that we don’t know where she is.”
“Rose. Tell me what’s going on.”
“Sunshine told Mystica she was going to explore the world. Then, she left. And she hasn’t come back, or been in touch with us.”
That was not acceptable to Sword. “Is she alive, dead, a prisoner somewhere? What? Where is Sunshine?”
“Musica said the machines have told her Sunshine is alive, and well.”
“The machines told her?”
“And they told her not to worry about Sunshine. They said they will take care of her.”
“The machines will take care of Sunshine?”
“Yes.”
“And Mystica has left it at that point. Not trying to find her. Not trying to contact her. Nothing?”
“Yes.”
“Which direction did she head?”
“Sword,” Rose gave him a look that said the topic was forbidden among the fairies. “Merlin said the Machines would protect her, keep her safe.”
“But no one really knows, right?”
“The machines know.”
“Then I think I should go talk with the machines, and find out what they know.” Sword was going to figure out if she was OK. He’d go talk to the machines.
Rose nodded. “We will go talk with the machines.”
243 words
@mysoulstears.bsky.social
I appreciate Sword’s protective instinct and love that Rose is going with him to talk with the machines.
“I asked for a report from Belzia an hour ago.” Rafe raised his gaze to glower at his aide whilst he continued scribbling his notes. He’d been listening to several accounts of the last few days and trying to piece together what had happened.
“She’s missing.” The aide stuttered. Rafe slammed his hand on the desk, spilling ink everywhere.
“Well then find her. She’ll be in the armoury or hunting down some lead in the archives.” His patience was wearing thinner by the day. Rumours were running wild and he needed to get quell them, getting to the truth would also be advantageous but that came second. First, he needed to stop their ranks getting restless and worried. Belzia was the one he trusted most to get to the bottom of everything.
“No Sir, I mean. She’s completely missing. I have checked for her and she…” he paused, not daring to say it. “She’s no longer in Heaven.”
Rafe’s blood turned to ice. Lower angels leaving Heaven without permission was forbidden. Belzia had fallen. His most trusted of angels. He said nothing, he just stared at the messenger with cold fury. There had to be an explanation. She was chasing a lead and she had to go down, or whatever she had found had scared her to the core and she had run.
“Leave.” He commanded. Rafe stood and gathered his things. It seemed he was going to have to visit Earth.
242 words @Lexikonical
I love the revelation that this is happening in heaven and that Belzia has fallen.
“Hello, this is Colonel Jack Harper.”
“Hey, Dad.”
“Pumpkin?” Jack adjusted his grip on his phone. “How are you?”
“Holding up.” His daughter’s voice was nonchalant. “How about you? You sound tired.”
“It’s been a hell of a week,” Jack sighed into his mustache.
He paused. How much should he say? Gemini could be a real help; if she didn’t make things drastically worse.
Shit. His silence had dragged on too long. He could feel her analyzing it on her end of the line.
“Has anything interesting happened with you?” Jack settled on deflection.
“Hmm,” Jack could hear his daughter’s smile. “Something happened to hero me, didn’t it?”
Jack squared his jaw and decided to go for it.
“She’s missing. What do you know about it?”
“Nothing. But something has been hunting us. I wouldn’t be surprised if that had something to do with it.”
“Hunting you? What can you tell us about it? Maybe if we work together…”
“Forget it, Dad. No good deed goes unpunished. That’s probably what got miss goody-two-shoes disappeared. I’m calling my remaining duplicates in and going to lay low until this blows over.”
This was bad. And Colonel Harper couldn’t risk telling the supervillain copy of his daughter that there was a civilian copy that the superhero copy had kept secret. Especially since he didn’t know where the civilian was anymore.
227 INELIGIBLE The Many Lives of Gemini words
@davidaludwig.bsky.social
“What do you mean, she’s missing?” Lisa barked as she looked at Sindee and Mama Audasity.
“I mean we’ve been calling her cell because she missed her showtimes and we can’t find her.” Sindee wrung her hands and tears streaked down her cheeks. “Misty never forgets to answer texts or misses her shows. They’re just too important to her.”
“Okay, how long has it been since she’s gone dark?” Lisa tried to shove the panic down.
Mama Audasity checked her own phone. “I haven’t heard from Misty since yesterday when she confirmed she’d be here tonight.”
Lisa nodded, trying to think back of the last time she talked to Misty. “Okay, I saw her for lunch yesterday, but got caught up in a big project at work. We were supposed to meet tonight after the show.”
“Oh no, something bad has happened to her.” Sindee wailed and wrung her hands harder. “I just know it. Misty would never not answer texts or calls.”
“Okay, I need a computer.” Ideally, Lisa would be back at her desk pouring over the traffic cams and storefront security video. But she could do some damage with an ordinary laptop and a little bit of hacking. “Do you have one nearby?”
“You can use mine.” Mama Audasity led Lisa to the office. “It’s not terribly powerful, but it can surf the web.”
“Perfect. I’ll just install a VPN and we’ll be in business.”
238 ineligible #Sirens words
@siobhanmuir.bsky.social
Sindee really pushes the emotion of this scene powerfully, which makes Lisa’s handling of it seem even more badass. I’m completely invested and hope things turn out well with Misty.
“Find anything interesting in that heap?”
John peeks around the hood of the old Jeep, rolling his eyes as Yelchin stalks across the garage floor.
“No bodies. No blood. Not even any crumbs or dust to speak of,” he says.
“That’s sus as hell,” Yelchin mutters. “Who keeps a car that clean?”
“Clean people,” John says.
“Or people cleaning up after bodies and blood.” Yelchin slaps the front panel.
“Christ, Yelch.” John shoves him away from the Jeep. “Seonah’s not a killer.”
“She might be,” Yelchin says. “There’s no evidence to the contrary.”
“That is literally not how evidence works, jackass.”
“Tell me about this junker.”
“Some junker. Engine still purrs like she just rolled off the lot.”
“And?”
“And what?” John ducks under the hood.
“She’s missing a lot of the modern conveniences,” Yelchin says. “No GPS, no dash cam. Not even a memorable paint job. Comes and goes, but who’s paying attention?”
Everyone, John thinks. Seonah sneezes and the gossips jabber.
“Sheriff’s done with it, right? If you think Seonah’s so innocent, what are you looking for?”
“I’m just trying to make sense of everything,” John sighs. “Things don’t math, you know?”
“What things?”
“Seonah is a death witch, can’t be trusted, scary person, blah blah blah,” John says, the words spilling out of him. “In reality, Seonah likes sweater paws and keeps her Jeep clean enough to eat off the floorboards.”
“The scariest things hide in plain sight,” Yelchin says. “You and I both know that much.”
250 WIP words
It’s great to see you here again
I love Yelchin and John’s back-and-forth in this intriguing investigative scene.
I went to look for her today. She’d been here yesterday, I’m certain. Or maybe it was a week ago.
She was across the table from me, telling a story and smiling as the full moon rose over the mountains. Or, wait. No. She was next to me in the car, rubbing my neck and finding just that spot.
She was here a month ago. She had to be. In my arms, her back pressed against me, my lips on her ear. On her knees, maybe, sparkling eyes and a wicked smile.
I’ve been looking through my memories, looking for the pieces that aren’t just facts, for the connective tissue that brings someone alive to us when they’re gone.
She was here a year ago, dammit. She was everywhere, how can I not find her now?
It’s a mess in here, a card catalog after a tornado, and the library it told the story of is missing.
She’s missing.
I know she’s around here somewhere.
165 words
@drmag00
You evoked the ephemeral, elusive nature of memory beautifully.
**TWIGGER WARNING: Self harm and suicide themes are presented in this piece**
All the posters said Lilian had been missing for a week.
“She’s missing,” the masses whispered among the supermarket aisles.
“Can’t say I’m surprised. That girl isn’t right,” others would say.
They weren’t wrong.
In reality, she’d been missing for much longer than that. Missing major pieces of herself. Pieces like her heart, her mind, maybe even her soul. It’d been a long time since she’d felt anything akin to happiness. The days were bleak, dragging her feet through the halls of high school and through family chatter around the dinner table. Most of her friends had drifted away months ago once her smiles turned to frowns and her laughter became replaced with tears.
She’d become too heavy for them to drag along behind. Too heavy for their lighthearted, gossipy, boy-driven personalities.
Lilian couldn’t blame them. She’d drop her, too.
She wished she could drop that heavy weight.
Instead, it just dragged her down…
Down…
Down.
Lilian wanted to sink down for the last time and not have to worry about trying to fight back to the surface for air again and again. The razor blade lines on her wrists just weren’t cutting through that numb, suffocating fog anymore. The sun failed to warm her anymore. The voices in her head wouldn’t stop screaming.
When would it stop? It needed to stop.
So, she went missing, having followed the whispers of release on the wind to the old railroad bridge with its soothing dark waters below.
~*~*~*~*~
246 RoB WiP related words to get myself back into this short story
@daelynmorgana.bsky.social
Did I really just spell trigger wrong? Lmao. My brain really is done tonight. I must have temporarily become Tigger from Winnie the Pooh on that one.
Details like Lilian being missing longer than the posters say and the heavy weight really resonate with me.
#ThursThreads is now CLOSED. Thanks to everyone who wrote this week and I hope to catch you next week.