Welcome back to the home of #ThursThreads for Week 617.
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 617:
![Eric Martell](https://siobhanmuir.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/Eric-Martell-21-261x300.jpg)
Scientist, Dad, and flash fiction author, Eric Martell.
And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.
The Prompt:
“I can see it in your eyes.”
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!
The Rendezvous
Danny was late for his appointment with Cal Dunsmuir, the political raconteur. It was close to seven. His safety assessment visit to Bea’s had taken longer than anticipated. Bea’s massive Colt 45 weapon had generated a lengthy discussion about its history in her family, her skill with it, and the more pressing issue of whether she could actually shoot someone is self defence, someone who was her distraught relinquished son.
They hadn’t come to an emotionally manageable conclusion when he had left.
He reasoned he might have to return later on in the evening.
Meanwhile, here he was. The glorious blue-sky and glittering stars ceiling of the Rendezvous Restaurant looked down on a fountain of feasting evening diners.
It was a treat to sup at the Wong family’s showcase restaurant. He wondered how he would explain the splurge to Anne. It was business, my love might not cut it.
He spotted Dunsmuir seated against a far wall. Being a pragmatist, he’d already ordered. There was a tall glass of fruit infused alcohol in front of the fixer.
“I can see it in your eyes,” he said. “That isn’t a Shirley Temple.”
Dunsmuir looked up, smiled, said, “Ever the obvious dick. It most surely isn’t. Oh, I’ve taken the liberty of ordering for you. Crab Meat Louis and grilled Halibut.”
“Sounds delicious.”
Dunsmuir added, “The Crab Louie comes with 1000 Islands dressing.”
Danny nodded. It was clear to him that it was going to be a pricey evening.
249 WIP
@billmelaterplea
It was only maybe the 13th time I’d seen this episode of whatever cop procedural she was watching. But I had to say something or I’d…
Over the din of the television, I turned toward my wife and declared, “I got lost the other night.”
Beth–having muted the TV for a commercial–said, “I’ve thought you’ve looked weird lately. I can see it in your eyes. What do you mean ‘lost,’ like you forgot your way home?”
“No, I knew my way home…it was just…never mind…just a guy thing.”
“Well, please try to be more mindful. I swear, you can be so spacey and forgetfuh… Oh, wait. I love this part,” she said after Ryan Reynolds’ latest pitch faded to Donny Walberg loudly trying to make his baked-in Boston accent sound like New York.
I took a deep breath and recalled how the noise of life subsided that night, how confusion and joy mixed in the warmth of that certain smile, how in that moment I felt free of being who I was and suddenly realized who I am. It felt like home to me. My home.
As Tom Seleck lumbered into the precinct house and pushed his acting range from A all the way to B with his grumbled “As you were,” I closed my eyes and probably grinned as I wended my way back down that A to Z path toward her smile, that touch, getting lost again, mindfully leaving home…for home.
250 mindful words
@heschwrites@gmail.com
The residents hated the food: too hot, too cold, too salty, overcooked, undercooked—no matter what the kitchen served, the conversation at every meal was the same, with everyone loudly voicing their displeasure. “I hate it here! Can’t we ever get McDonald’s? Or Burger King? That cook needs to be replaced. My cat could do a better job!” They wrote up a petition for better food, and everyone signed it. The administration allotted a small patch of land on the heath for each person, so they could grow whatever they wanted—vegetables or flowers or melons or berries. The ground, however, was contaminated—acid from the factory had leached onto the soil. The group collectively suggested putting a ditch around the perimeter; no one was sure how that would solve anything, but they figured it was worth a try, so they asked for shovels and axes, set the radio to polka music, turned up the volume, and began digging. Except for Max; he watched, grinning, as they toiled in the hot sun, tools striking the rocks and upturning the dirt as sweat dripped in rivulets down his friends’ faces. Sitting under a tree in a folding chair he brought from his room, he told them his lipids were too high for doing anything strenuous and the only remedy was rest. The others nodded, but no one bought his story. It was typical Max behavior. Marcella shuffled over to his spot. “You are lying. I can see it in your eyes.”
250 words
rrats123@gmail.com
Dauphine gasped as she took in the wreckage of the room.
“Why?”
Linda said, “He was mad because I went out with y’all last night, but I can tell he’s sorry. I can see it.”
“In your eyes, Quinn can do no wrong, but literally everyone else knows him for the no-good, lyin’, cheatin’, snake-in-the-grass, misogynistic, uneducated, sexist pig he is.”
Annie chimed in, “That’s an insult to pigs everywhere. Besides, the only thing I see is this mess he left behind and your black eye. I could kill him for that.”
“But–” Linda started.
In a sudden reversal, Annie interrupted, “You know what? Y’all should come over for dinner tomorrow night. Dauphine, you come early and help me get everything ready, and Linda, your only job is to get Quinn there, okay?”
Late the next night, Linda stood stoic as her friends finished planting South Texas Ambrosia and Eggers agave in a newly dug garden. Annie patted the earth around the plants before standing.
Dauphine said “Linda, don’t forget to file a missing person’s report day after tomorrow.”
Linda nodded.
Annie announced, “Tomorrow, I’ll place that old fencing around my new garden and plant some big ol’ hedges. It’ll look like this garden has been here for years, and when the cops start asking questions, no one will be the wiser. And if they do get suspicious, these are endangered species. They can’t be dug up.”
Linda nodded.
“No one will ever find him. You thought of everything.”
Teresa Eccles
@teresameccles
250 words
Barrett laughed. “Good to get your eyes checked, especially if you spend a lot of time on the computer, which it sounds like you do. Other than defending digital networks, what do you like to do for fun?”
“Beyond watching my friends in Drag Shows?” Lisa smirked as Barrett nodded their head regally. “I’m actually a big fan of scrapbooking. I collect stickers, funky papers, pithy sayings to post in little, heavily decorated books around the house.”
Barrett nodded until they thought about what she was say and narrowed their eyes. “Wait…” They tilted their head. “You’re having me on, aren’t you?”
She grinned as they pointed at her. “You are, I can see it in your eyes. You’re totally yanking my chain.”
Lisa laughed. “I am. I don’t have many hobbies, honestly. I spent so much time in the military and then jumping straight into security work, I don’t do much else. I finish work and collapse in a heap at the end of the day.”
“Well, that’s gotta change. I have a proposal for you.”
She raised an eyebrow. “What kind of proposal?”
“The kind that lets us get to know each other better. I propose a series of dates at different venues and activities to see what kinds of hobbies you might like to do. Glass-blowing, painting pottery, hatchet-throwing, swing dancing, and yes, scrapbooking, are all on the table.”
232 ineligible #Sirens words
@siobhanmuir.bsky.social
I have never asked anyone out. My parents just sort of got told they were together, so they’re no help. And neither is my father, since he’s never dated. Don’t ask.
Okay. Deep breath, stay cool. Nothing cheesy.
“Hey! I can see it in your eyes that we should go out!”
Carla turns, her brown hair matted to her forehead. Her tank top and leggings drip with sweat and she’s covered in dirt. Her kitchen suddenly feels very, very small.
“What?”
“Uh. Been gardening?”
She snorts. “Yes. What’s wrong? God send you on another mission? Another devotee?”
Smoothing a hand over my pony tail I shake my head. “Thankfully, my fan club has been staying alive of late.”
“That’s good. Well. as long as you’re here, come help me.”
“Do you want to date me?”
Being omnipotent, this should be easy. But it’s not. She might hate me.
“Date you?”
I nod like a puppy.
“You come help me move this giant ass rock and we’ll talk.”
I wave my hand and the rock moves to the corner of the driveway, decorative and welcoming.
“How does one date Jesus? What will my parents say when they meet the family? Mom, Dad, this Mary, Joseph, and God. Your potential new inlaws.”
I knew she’d be a tough sell. But she hasn’t said no.
“That’s a little ways down the road, right?”
“I suppose. Well, if it doesn’t get weird then I suppose we can try.”
If this works out, hallelujah!
@Aighball
249 words
Sunshine looked at her reflection on the surface of the ocean. “I can see it in your eyes,” she thought as she hovered in place above the ocean. “You’re angry.”
She was. It was an anger that had been building since she encountered the men on the boat. Then she found their village, and her anger grew. Then she learned what they did to anyone who was not like them. Their own children, even. How they killed them. Or certainly tried to.
“Well. They can try to kill me.” She called on the wild magic, and a storm formed on the ocean. A storm that strangely enough left her alone. “They can try.” She flew toward the village.
As she flew, she made sure the storm grew, until it had the winds of a hurricane, and the rain that went with it. She flew straight toward the village. She flew low so the humans could see her. “They will know this was done by me.”
The storm struck the boat piers of the village first. Water and waves covered them, twisted them, splintered them, destroyed them. The storm threw any boats onto the land, leaving twisted piles of wood.
Sunshine landed on the shore of the village. She walked through it. The storm lashed at the buildings. Not all of the buildings survived. Not all of the people in the village survived.
The machines spoke. “Just like Merlin did when he was here.”
Sunshine made the storm worse.
249 Words
@mysoulstears.bsky.social
It’s a premade meal. Even I can handle that. So this mental paralysis can fuck right off. Just open it and then there are instructions inside.
The front door opens. Shit! Please tell me the tea’s ready. I put it on, right?
“I’m home.”
Jian’s voice is as soft and level as always. Even the click of her golden heels is gentle entering the kitchen as she removes her lacey butterfly mask. She isn’t exactly a facial expression person, but her eyes widen slightly at me standing by the stove.
“Hey,” why does my smile feel so awkward? “I made tea and am working on dinner. So you can just relax.”
She looks at the unopened premade meals.
“I can do that.”
How did I end up rooming with the greatest superhero in history? She even does most of the cooking and cleaning, and I know my rent is barely a token amount. She picked me up off the street. Literally. I still don’t know why.
“Let me do this. You’ve had a hard week.”
How little I do for the woman who probably saved my life is one of the things I hate most about myself. Man, I wish Jian drank. I could go for one.
“What makes you say that?”
Jian is nearly impossible to read. I’m the only one I know of who’s done it.
“I can see it in your eyes.”
235 Mind and Body words
@davidaludwig.bsky.social
Devlin rubbed the spot over his heart. He had to get this out, had to tell her before this went any further. He was fully prepared to leave her if she sent him away, though he’d never leave her. He would always be nearby in the off-side chance she might need him.
“What’s wrong?” Kathleen urged.
He didn’t say anything.
“I can see it in your eyes, Dev. You’re hurting. Please talk to me.”
Cupping her cheek in his calloused hand, his breath hitched at the sensation of her silking skin. “I’m a bad man, Kathleen. You need to know how bad.”
She placed her hand over his. “No, Devlin O’Reilly. You are a good man who’s done some bad things. That’s all.”
He stared at her. It wasn’t possible that she knew already. Was it? The name he needed to spit out choked him and he couldn’t speak. He needed to get up, to pace. No, he needed to walk away. He shouldn’t condemn this beautiful women to his sins.
As if she read his mind, Kathleen dropped her hand and leaned away. “What’s got so you tied up in knots?”
Dev shoved to his feet and strode away but he didn’t get far. The tie that bound them together kept him on a short leash. His inner wolf whined softly.
“You deserved better, Kathleen. Far better than me.”
She disagreed, hoarding her regrets as if they were a dragon’s treasure. “You’re the one, then, who did Tommy.”
“Aye.”
****
250 Moonstruck Mafia WIP words
Siver James https://www.facebook.com/AuthorSilverJames/
Hawk stared blankly at Tinker. The corrugations across his brow deepened, the dark pools of his pupils dilating. The muscles in his thighs began to bunch, the blood pumping through his veins as he prepared to pounce.
Tinker blinked. He affected an aura of pure calm, ignoring the avian’s imminent menace.
“I can tell what you’re thinking,” he said. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re reacting to the odour from the abattoir, letting it take control.”
The stench of the carcasses was overpowering, even for an insensitive man. It would be at least a dozen times worse for Hawk. He would be fighting against his instincts as a predator. The partnership that they’d agreed upon was fraying away.
“Try to fixate on a cockroach. There are scores of them about. Or a plump, juicy rat, if you want meat.”
Hawk huffed and turned his head, looking away. There was a scarab beetle and a scorpion climbing the wall. The beetle was smeared with entrails from a body it’d found, its jaws idly munching at a gobbet of flesh.
The scorpion raised its stinger high and tensed.
“It’s no good,” said Hawk. “I can still smell you there. And I’m guessing you’ve not washed for a week.”
Tinker shrugged. In fact, it had been almost two. But he’d been lying in a coma each night.
Another second and the scorpion was gone, the spot where it had been stained with gore.
“Way to go,” Tinker said, swallowing it back.
250 words – twothirdzrasta.blogspot.com
#ThursThreads is now CLOSED. Thanks to everyone who wrote this week and I hope to catch you next week.