Welcome back to the home of #ThursThreads for Week 669. Almost Year 13! 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 669:
Cat wrangler, master violinist, and Tea connoisseur, Muirlette #1.
And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.
The Prompt:
“It was something more.”
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 Meeting
It was the last place I wanted to be but George kept nagging me. “We have to stand up…tell ‘em what for.”
He was insistent. “I want my road back,” he kept on saying and I admit I occasionally wanted it back to.
New neighbours ,eh! Half a dozen kids in the family, not a big house so they’re outside at all hours. Friendly kids and each of them hauls over a couple of friends and pretty soon our quiet little cul-de-sac has been sacked worse than the Visigoths sacked Rome.
It was something more than the street simply being occupied by street hockey players and God knows what other shenanigans kids can get caught up in; it was the noise. And when I say noise, I mean a terribly off-key cacophony of clatter.
Kids are squeaky, eh. Not a baritone in the bunch. Giggles and gaggles of globules of kids, snorting and sneezing and laughing like they owned the world.
So I was with my neighbour George. The city had to do something. Streets are for cars. The street is not a kindergarten.
I made a sign.
Take Back Our Streets!
We marched on city hall.
Press covered it.
The whole town started laughing at us.
The Mayor lambasted us, said, “Lighten up. They’re just kids.”
Lighten up my petunia. You give kids an inch, they’ll take the whole street.
Which they have.
That’s the last meeting I’m ever going to.
Might even take up street hockey.
250 Words
@billmelaterplea
@sterlings-son-2.bsky.social
“Humans are remarkably resilient, but also remarkably fragile. She’ll need your presence to make her choice.”
“Choice?” I echoed.
“To stay or to move on.”
If I didn’t have dark skin, I would’ve turned white. “She can’t go. Not yet.”
“Despite being the Lord of the Underworld, that isn’t actually your choice.” Nightengale shook her head sadly. Talon met my gaze with steady stoicism. “But you can be there when she makes it. We’ll do what we can and get fluids into her, but if she doesn’t want to stay, there isn’t anything we can do from the outside.”
I swallowed hard. “What can I do? I can’t meet her in the spirit realm—not until she’s made the choice to leave, and I don’t want her to go. How can I convince her to stay?”
Nightengale and Talon exchanged looks, before Talon shrugged. Nightengale sighed and nodded.
“Make sure she has continuous fluids when we reach the compound. Karma?”
“Yeah?”
“Try to keep the drive smooth and steady.”
“Got it.”
Nightengale shook out her hands and rolled her head on her shoulders before flexing her fingers. Then she grasped Anna’s hand and reached out for mine. She met my bewildered gaze and wiggled her fingers.
“Give me your hand, Anubis.”
I blinked. Her voice was her own, but it was something more, something older, wiser, and more calm. When I glanced into her eyes, they were full of stars, and I realized the Goddess had come to call.
249 ineligible #ConcreteAngelsMC words
@siobhanmuir.bsky.social
Mass Transit Romance
Derrick bobbed his head up and down like a meerkat, trying to locate his quarry.
Her name’s Elizabeth, but she went by Liz. Probably. She always covered her phone when she checked messages, which was pretty rude if you ask Derrick. He adored her; she looked past his height (5’6”) and his weight (195) because she wasn’t superficial like most women.
They met a month ago on this very bus. Derrick was 84th Street to the Shore, where his psychiatrist’s office was located, Liz was 76th to Packard. Once Derrick followed her off the bus to make sure she was safe, and she walked two blocks to JFK Elementary. Derrick loved that about her, the devotion to her students and to making the world a better place.
This wasn’t a fling or a weekend affair. It was something more. And they both knew it. Well, Derrick did.
The driver stopped at 84th, Derrick’s little angel climbed aboard. She was playing coy, a little game they had, where she pretended not to notice him and sat down with her earbuds in, reading a Kindle.
That’s so Liz, he thought. He moved to a seat behind her, tapped her on the shoulder, and gestured for her to remove her earbuds.
“Do you have the time, by chance?”
“Um, 8:05.” She put her earbuds back and returned to her Kindle.
Ha, what a prankster! Their love was special. He knew it, he just knew she did too.
247 Words
jtganzer@gmail.com
Aisling stared at them, her emotions a chaotic whirlwind. Fear waltzed with wonder. Anger chased giggling humor. Hysteria and sorrow held hands whispering to each other while loneliness and despair clung to each other in the center of the storm.
“Can you explain what happened?” Sade asked.
She shook her head.
Ariel studied her before glancing toward Sade. “If he transported her…” He left the rest of that thought hanging when he noticed the slight shudder running through the woman.
“I hate when y’all go all woo-woo and poof.” This time, Sade’s shudder was visible and exaggerated.
“No.”
They fixed their attention on Aisling.
“We didn’t poof. He opened a door.”
“Explain.” Sade’s voice demanded obedience.
“Under the library. He opened a door and pushed me through.”
Ariel shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable. “He didn’t go with you?”
“No. He closed the door behind me. I couldn’t leave.”
Sade was determined to get facts. “What did you see?”
“Nothing. It was…” Staring down at the clasped hands she pressed into her lap, Aisling paused. Thought. Remembered. “There was nothing there. No light. No dark. No sound. No silence.” She looked up, sure her face showed the haunting emptiness inside her. “It was nothing. It was something more.”
After a string of expletives, Sade admitted, “Ariel’s right. You weren’t in the between.”
Ariel asked gently, “How did you get out?”
“A voice I didn’t hear. A hand I couldn’t feel. They showed me the door and here I am.”
****
249 Penumbra Papers #6 WIP words
Silver James
https://silverjames.com
The scene I walked into was chaotic .A cop pulled me aside and said, I ’m sorry, Mrs. Root to tell you that your husband and brother are dead.”
I still looked around the room, I could tell you it was something more; the crime scene had been staged to make my brother look guilty of murder and it was working, the cops were ready to sew this up even without corroborating evidence.
“He didn’t do it.!” I loudly claimed.
“Cally are you alright?” aloud voice suddenly at my side asked
It was my hateful next-door neighbour, Cheryl. Had the cops called her? Where had she come from? I hated Cheryl. She pretended to be my friend, but I knew if she had the chance, she’d get rid of me so she could marry my husband.
“Ma’am, can we take you somewhere?” the cop asked.
“You could stay with me,” Cheryl volunteered and I cringed.
I had the cop drive me to a hotel and begged that they tell me when I could return home. The coroner’s inquest decided my brother killed my husband I was home free. I’d got rid of two men who thought they should be able to control all the money. I was rich having inherited two very wealthy estates., I could now having any life I wanted but justice was swift. My husband and my brother come to me every night haunting my sleep, I couldn’t escape their justice even if I wanted to.
249 words @sweetsheil.bsky.social