Welcome back to the home of #ThursThreads for Week 645. Year 12! What a fantastic testament to the writing community. Y’all rock!
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 US.
- 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 645:
Scottish Word Slinger, Dauntless romance author, and #ThursThreads host, Siobhan Muir.
Facebook | Bluesky | Patreon | Eden Books |
And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.
The Prompt:
“Remember that when I’m gone.”
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 Last Song
Every night, Doug Wakely went to sleep with the thought that this would be the night. The lyric that he craved would come to him. Perhaps even the tune but he realized that his forte, if he had one, was language. Down through the years, he’d penned a thousand lyrics. Occasionally he sang the better ones in the shower. The various women in his life would almost universally groan, say something like, “Hey Dougie, you have a cat in the shower with you?”
Mostly it was good natured fun, and he took no offence. His singing voice was slightly high-pitched and most of the songs he wrote were country folk, at least that is what he preferred in music.
But now, as he slept in bed, a wee portion of his brain was alive with country poetry. He woke, he thought he was awake, and the last song he’d ever write came to him.
Darlin’ we passed like ships at night,
I caught a brief glimpse of you
walkin’ in the fading evening light,
holding hands with another,
and darlin’, it just didn’t feel right,
so I slipped away into the shadows once again.
Darlin’, remember that when I’m gone from your life,
remember when I’ve become a memory,
the lovin’ joys we had, and yes, the lovin’ strife.
Remember all of that when I am gone.
Jeanne, his third wife who slept in another bedroom, found Doug the next morning.
Doug’s last song died with him.
250 words
@billmelaterplea
Dad pulls his black cape over his shoulders, fastening the gold dragonfly clasp. While he loads their suitcases, Mom takes all the fun out of staying home alone.
“No friends over and keep the doors locked. And don’t burn the house down like your brother did.”
“In his defense, he didn’t know he could do that.”
Mom buttons her emerald green cape and gives me that LOOK. “Can you remember that when I’m gone?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes.”
The door locks and I wait five seconds before I start my plans.
“Monica! Presley! Slumber party?”
Monica sprawls into the recliner, bare foot bouncing. “I did not want to spend all weekend practicing my powers with my sister.”
“Same!” Presley flops onto a bean bag. Her tennies thump onto the hardwood floor, socks stuffed inside. “My sister has zero patience.”
“What’d you get?” I ask, digging my bare feet into the couch cushions, which Mom hates.
“I control people. You don’t want to move and sign the papers? Too bad,” Monica says, puffing her hair out of her eyes.
“Weather,” Presley says. “I accidentally started the neighbor’s tree on fire practicing lightning.”
“Lucky.” My left hand forms into a paw with pink and black toe beans and soft grey and black striped fur. “Instead of powers, I got my animal form.”
“You’ve never been normal.” Presley giggles, shaking her head. “Why start now?”
I laugh, summoning a pile of chips, cookies, and pop. This is the best weekend ever!
@Aightball
250 words
Remember that when I’m gone,
Though tears maybe shed,
I’m always in your heart,
The memories I left behind,
Cannot be taken away,
Layer them in your mind’s eye,
Taking them out,
One by one,
Saving them for a rainy day,
Or just a day of joy.
I know this causes you pain,
For the love went both ways,
But love and friendship,
Never ends,
It never goes away,
It changes in the interim,
I maybe invisible,
But I’m waiting,
For all eternity,
To see you again,
Until then live,
Your life,
Find joy and peace,
As I hold your hand,
I’m not never far away,
Hoping your life is full,
Of love and light,
I will come into your dreams,
Guide you to the good,
Cheering you on,
Until we meet again,
Some far future day.
137 Words @SweetSheil (Bluesky and Twitter)