Welcome back to the home of #ThursThreads for Week 663. 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 663:
Real world adventurer, kitty enthusiast, urban fantasy and romance author, Thia Mackin.
Facebook | Instagram | Bluesky |
And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.
The Prompt:
“I’m here to get you ready.”
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!
Gizmo Sage
She was deep in thought. Gizmo Sage clearly had impacted her. Perhaps rattled her. I work alone. That makes me my own worst enemy and my own best friend.
The roles are clear. I am my own linchpin.
“Your underling?” I queried, wondering if that was how she referred to him to his face. “He resented that you were above him in Dack Dinge’s Conglomerate.”
She hesitated. That told me that there was more to this than met the third eye.
“Look,” I said, “You came to me. I’m the best Moon Dick. You must know that.”
She noggin-nodded, said, “I checked.”
“Good. So this Sage, is there something else I need to know?”
“He’s descended from the Initiates…scorns others who are not. Like me.”
That explained it. I know this Sage, people like him, descendants of the first to arrive on the Moon. I am one myself. Spawn of the Initiates. We are superior. My father proudly wore the mantle. At age eleven, he took me on a tour of the Moon. “This is ours, my son. Others will come but we were here first. Today, I’m here to get you ready to carry that weight.”
It had yet proved to be a burden. It was enough to know that I was from the first families. There was no need to flaunt it.
“He scorned you?” I asked. “That seems somewhat inappropriate for an…for an underling?”
Her sad look said it all. “I bedded him,” she confessed.
250 WIP
@billmelaterplea
@sterlings-son-2.bsky.social
“You do you, honey. Okay, I think it’s time to get this event started.”
“That’s why I’m here to get you. Ready for this?” Everly tossed her wavy tresses over one exposed shoulder. “I mean once you get hitched, didn’t I hear you’re starting a new project for the members of Ultimate Recon?”
Sadie nodded as they all left the bathroom to head to the outside yard for the ceremony. “Yup. I’m going to put my new Mindful Gardening class to good use by creating and maintaining a serenity garden as a safe space where the team can let go of all the stresses after missions. Goddess knows we all need places like that to retreat to when the shit hits the fan.”
Everly nodded, some of her smirk sliding away. “Yeah, I wish Duncan had had that kind of place when he came back from Afghanistan the last time. Maybe it would’ve helped him cope with his PTSD a little better.”
Sadie nodded. Everly’s little brother had served in the Marines just like his big sister, but he’d seen some rough combat and his Humvee was hit with an IED that left him and one other guy the only survivors. When Duncan had returned state-side, he hadn’t been able to find a place that didn’t have enemies trying to take him out, and he disappeared onto the streets of Phoenix, still missing.
“Have you heard anything from your folks or the police?”
Everly shook her head. “Nothing.”
248 ineligible #UltimateRecon words
@siobhanmuir.bsky.social
Ariel exited the bedroom of his hotel suite and stopped short at the sight of the man hovering near the outer door. He glowered and the other lowered his eyes but stood frozen, a rabbit cornered by a fox. Exasperated, Ari snarled. “What’s going on, Druic?”
With his gaze still glued to the tips of Ariel’s boots, the younger Fae answered. “I’m here to get you ready.”
“Ready? For what?”
The kid shrugged. “I’ve not a clue, sir. She said go so I went.”
“She?” The panicked look on Druic’s face told the tale. What in the two realms was Tatania up to now? “Does he know you’re here?” The boy all but quaked in his boots as he shook his head.
Resisting the urge to slap his palm against his forehead in gesture of futility, Ari thought for a moment. The queen sent her errand boy to him without Oberon’s knowledge. What game was she playing now? He needed more information.
“What did she say, Druic? Her exact words.” Shuffling his feet, his eyes darting in every direction, the boy mumbled something. “Speak up, lad. I’m not a royal. I won’t throw you in the dungeons for answering my question.”
His head dancing like a bobble-head toy, Druic stuttered an explanation. “She told me to be secret. That you would need me. That I was to get you ready.”
“For what?”
“The one who is coming.”
He sighed, then quoted one of Sade’s favorite expletives. “We are so fucked.”
****
250 Penumbre Papers #6 WIP words
Silver James
https://silverjames.com
“Why are you here?” I asked the fairy floating in the air before my eyes.
“I’m here to get you ready.” I could have sworn she didn’t speak, and yet I heard her.
“Ready for what?”
“It’s your first date with her, silly! I have to make sure you’re ready.”
The fair looked me over from head to toe. “Well, you’re not bald yet, so that’s something.”
“I’m not old enough to be bald.”
“True, but you will be soon enough.” The fairy ran her fingers down my cheek. “You should shave.”
“But I just did that this morning!” I hated shaving.
“Yeah, but she likes smooth skin.” I couldn’t argue. I shaved. Just to be safe.
The fairy looked at me, “Tuck in that shirt.”
“I wear this shirt, so I don’t have to tuck it in!”
She glared at me. I tucked in my shirt. “Keep it tucked in. She likes to be special.”
“Anything else?”
“Nope. That should get her to kiss you.”
“Wait. This is our first date. She’ll kiss me?”
“Yes. And you’ll like it.” The fairy smiled at me and patted me on the cheek. “Just remember to not ask for it. Go get her, Romeo.”
202 Words (Per Google Write)
@mysoulstears.bsky.social
He brought the suit into the room and laid it out.
“I’m here to get you ready,” he said as he unbuttoned the jacket.
“A lot of people are going to be there.” He unbuttoned the shirt.
“Some of these people haven’t seen you in years, so we want you to look your best.”
He continued to work on the suit – measuring and fitting. He was like an artist about to display his work in a gallery.
Finally, he moved the body into the coffin and wheeled it into the room where the man’s family would soon gather.
“There. Now you’re all ready. Just a little more time and you’ll finally be able to rest in peace.”
118 words
@LupusAnthropos
For a tomboy I’m being unusually high maintenance tonight. My best friend takes the lint roller to my jacket. I managed to find dress slacks that don’t make me feel trapped and paired it with some nice black sandals and a purple button up shirt that doesn’t choke me. I prefer jeans and band t-shirts, but tonight I have to emcee the end of year awards banquet for work.
“I’m here to get you ready! I still can’t believe you’re wearing slacks!”
I unceremoniously pull them down so they don’t pinch my down belows, then turn for final approval. She gives me a critical scan, then nods, spritzing my hair. It’s naturally curly, but we pulled the sides up into a clip for the night, leaving part of it to curl as it will.
“Are you up for any awards tonight?” she asks, as I grab my purple sparkly robes.
“I don’t know. We’ll find out together.”
I open the portal to the Dark Plane, joining other members of Death filtering into a massive banquet hall. Seeing thousands of people from all over the world makes my stomach drop into my sandals.
“Good luck!” she pushes me toward the side stage.
I squeak something unintelligible out, The One True Death, who stands over seven feet tall, hands me a microphone.
“You will do great!”
I stare out over the sea of Death staff. Nearly swallowing my tongue, I take a breath. Don’t pass out! Don’t pass out! Don’t pass out!
@Aightball
250 words
The darkness over Fairhill was unnatural. Lightning fractured the sky without meaningfully illuminating the town. Thunder shook the ground. The locals had all taken shelter, but no such accommodation was offered the eclectic outsiders.
“This is no ordinary storm; we must return to Pippi!” Starlee Swann commanded her companions.
Blitzen Brün nodded, cradling their fresh provisions protectively to her chest, her cheeks bulging with the loaf of bread she had crammed in seconds earlier. The more delicate Angelina Dawning took her usual, protected position between her crewmates. They retraced their steps to where they had left their fourth.
Before they found their friend, manic laughter intruded from all sides before coalescing into a sing-song voice.
“I’m here to get you!”
“Ready yourselves!”
Starlee drew her rapier of starlight and faced the deepest of the darkness. An elongated, feral mockery of a human form loomed over the crumpled body of Pippi Pierrot.
“Wretched hellspawn,” Starlee hissed through her teeth, glowing eyes fixed on the demon.
The grinning fiend’s laughter only occasionally originated from where it ought. It arched its taloned fingers. Threads of crimson light whipped toward the companions. Slashing the threads, Starlee charged.
A tremor through the thread that caught Starlee’s left wrist made her punch herself in the face. It did not stop her from charging her blade with the power to dispel the darkness.
“Return to the depths!”
The swashbuckler drove her rapier through a point between Pippi and her demon, banishing the abomination once more.
248 words
@davidaludwig.bsky.social
𝑺𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝑩𝒆𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝑫𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒐 𝒂𝒏𝒅 1986
There are layers in the soft rock of us, geologic emotion. Layers of laughter, sugary apologies, and late-night taxi rides. Streaks of cherry-gloss kisses on cigarette filters and jacket collars. The bad slabs are heavier, compacted with time and silence. Fossilized. She still brings up the time I hung up on her mid-sob, mid-sentence. She says it like it’s folklore, and maybe it is.
The party’s thumping like it’s trying to wake the past, somewhere between disco and 1986. She floats in, trailing clove smoke and sequins, her laugh scattering like pigeons. Everyone loves her here. They say things like “iconic” and “effervescent.” Phrases that contain “amazing” and “literally.” They don’t know about the basement of us. The time she broke me. The things I’ve done.
She finds me by the plastic punch bowl, plucks a cherry from my cup without asking.
“You remember what I told you?” she says, close, her voice like a dare.
I nod, though there were many tellings, each with edits. She bleeding, she unbreakable. She the storm, she the shore. All the tellings were true. That’s what makes it impossible. That’s what makes it real. Our reality is where our recollections meet. Somewhere in the middle.
She smiles. “I’m here to get you ready.”
“For what?”
“For whatever version of me shows up next.”
Then she’s gone again, swallowed by worship and haze the color of a fading bruise.
I sip my drink. There’s sediment at the bottom, sweet and bitter.
247 words
@krvanhorn (Bluesky and X)
“Who are you? Why are you here at six a. m.”
“I will make you beautiful for your wedding,” the woman said.
“What are you my fairy godmother?” I said sarcastically.
“He will be sorry and want to woe you.”
“You’d have to be a miracle worker to achieve that I heard him ask his dad must I marry and bed that?’
“It will get better., you’ll see. Now sit.”
Shaping my hair with scissors , swivelling it up into an updo, she then applied makeup, reshaping my brows. She then put a beautiful gown over my head and a veil. When I looked in the mirror, I was astonished, I was pretty.
“No, beautiful,” she said as if reading my mind.
Placing the veil over my face she guided me to the altar where I said my vows. As he said his and pulled the veil over my head he gasped.
“Who is this? This isn’t Sarah!”
“This is Sarah your wife,” the woman said.
“Mother?’
“You have a lot to learn son, you’d better learn to woe your wife,’ and apologize for your comments.” the woman who I had learned was my mother-in law.
“I’ve been cruel. I’m sorry. You are our future queen and my beautiful wife. I will make it up to if it takes a lifetime.”
“I’ll try to forgive you .”I answered and my mother-in law smiled.
Forty happy years, ten children and thirty grandchildren later, all because of my kind mother-in law.
249 Words
@sweetsheil.bsky.social
Deidre fisted a few fries, dunked them in ketchup and shoved them in her mouth. The end of one crunched against her lip, breaking off. The trajectory was inevitable. She attempted to catch it and watched the projectile slip between her fingers.
Bullseye in the center of her chest.
“Oh shit.” She stood up, wiping her fingers on the distressed jeans, leaving saucy fingerprints in her wake. “Gah?”
The full-length mirror in the hallway showcased all the bloody damage. Add in her frizzy hair and faded make-up: she was hopeless.
Who was she kidding? She wasn’t a fashion model. Hell, she couldn’t even keep ketchup off her Ohtani jersey. How did she think she was going to pull tonight off? She’d never be a match for him. They were kidding themselves if they thought there was any chance of them working out.
She grabbed some napkins off the table and wiped the red sludge, making the smear even worse. Useless. She gave up and sunk into the blue velvet sofa, letting the extra fluffy cushions soften her slump.
A knock sounded on the front door. Fuck. He was fifteen minutes early. Who showed up early for a fitting appointment?
“I’m here to get you ready,” Luca held up a selection of dresses and a clear case of matching heels.
She took in all the gold and glitter and sequins, and the muscles of her stomach contracted. “Didn’t anyone tell you I wasn’t going?”
“Oh honey. We got work to do.”
@LouisaBacio
250 words
#ThursThreads is now CLOSED. Thanks to everyone who wrote this week and I hope to catch you next week.