Welcome back to the home of #ThursThreads for Week 674 at the end of 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 674:
Writer at Arms, Writer with Arms, and Pre-Published Romantasy Author, Jacob Summers.
Facebook | Bluesky | Threads |
And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.
The Prompt:
“They don’t like it.”
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!
Fire Tale
We gathered in our town hall. It had stood for over one hundred years. Built just after the great war. Along with the rest of the town. Rebuilt after the great fire.
Now we were faced with a new firestorm that was poised to burn our world down.
We came to listen to our leaders and one in particular. Ezra Lang. He had been a six-year-old child when the old town had burned down. Now he was the only person alive who had lived that experience, remembered it and shared the story countless times over the years.
We sat in silence as he spoke. Leaning on his walker atop the stage, he began: “There were in the long ago many who knew of it. The fire. The screams of the dying. Then, slowly, their voices faded. They passed away, one after the other. And memories blurred.”
He coughed and wiped what I presumed was a tear from his eye.
“My mother died young from consumption but father lived on. From him I learned to tell the story of the fire. Even when he would remind me that they don’t like it, the people who became angry at the story, who said, that was then, it’s done, my father would remind them that fire never ends. They chose not to listen.”
He drew in a deep breath. “I can smell the smoke. New smoke but also one hundred-year-old smoke. It never leaves my nostrils.”
Outside, the fire fiercely hissed.
250 Words
@billmelaterplea
@sterlings-son-2.bsky.social
I was some sort of goddess? How was that so if I was dying? Goddesses couldn’t die, could they?
But I had other memories of helping friends, colleagues, even partners throughout my life with projects, giving them inspiration, or talking out their dreams to bring them to fruition, like it was my calling.
Or my very existence is to help and inspire.
I turned away from the doorway and faced Anubis. “How long have you known who I was?”
He grunted, a sound not unlike a frustrated dog. “Since the moment I touched you at the compound.”
I nodded, slowly. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“What was I to say, Little Bird? You had forgotten who I was—who you were. If I had shown you my jackal’s aspect, would you have not screamed and run from me? I had to take my time, get you to trust me, so you would believe me when I told you.”
“So you waited until I was nearly dead? Great timing.” I rolled my eyes.
He growled. “It wasn’t my intention to wait so long, but I couldn’t find the right moment to bring up the Many Realms, or our places in them. I was gaining your trust so you would believe me when the words didn’t make sense, because even now, I can see they don’t. Like it or not, you are a goddess who’s taken a human form, and that human form is currently close to death.”
246 ineligible #ConcreteAngelsMC words
@siobhanmuir.bsky.social
Marlene took a step forward, then another. Left. 16 inches. Then right. The line was long, as was the journey. She sighed. Not only was it a nearly hopeless march, it was boring.
Alexi, the tall, thin man exactly two feet ahead of her, turned his head briefly towards her, a sharp look on his ascetic face. Marlene knew why. They Don’t Like It when anyone expresses any level of dissatisfaction with, well, anything. Complete subservience wasn’t enough, They wanted everyone to show their appreciation. She smiled, hoping it looked sincere..
Left. 16 inches. Right.
Every four hours the line stopped for 15 minutes. Water, a nutrition bar, and the chance to relieve herself in the pits by the side of the path. But at 15 minutes she had to be back in line taking the next step.
Left. 16 inches. Right.
Every 18 hours the line paused for four hours. Ingestion, excretion, and collapse for something like sleep. They’d wake up and start the next march.
Marlene didn’t know where they were going or why. All she knew was that anyone who didn’t obey every rule was shot, falling out of line, those behind them moving up two feet. She didn’t know what happened to the bodies or what awaited them at the end of the line. If there was an end of the line.
Left. 16 inches. Right.
At least, she thought, she was in the winning line. The losers had to walk for 20 hours before resting.
250 words
@drmag00.bsky.social
I make it a point not to go up. It’s not that God and I don’t get along, it’s just that, well, he sends me all his bad guys and it creates some tension. However, he is the custodian of my part of the afterlife, so when I need maintenance, up I must go.
“Stan! What brings you upstairs?” God buzzes around his office, decked out in full rainbow ensemble. “You want coffee?”
I shake my head. “I’m good, thanks. I actually need your maintenance person asap. The air went out again and everyone is miserable.”
He turns, steaming cup of straight black coffee in his hand; the cup matches his outfit. He cocks his head to one side and a small laugh escapes him.
“Aren’t they supposed to be miserable down there?”
“I suppose. But this is too much; they don’t like it, and neither do I.” I briefly pop my horns out, aiming a fanged smile at him. “If we can’t get it fixed today, I’ll relocate everyone til it is fixed.”
That sip went down the wrong pipe. After an unholy coughing fit, God composes himself, wiping drips of coffee from his shirt.
“In that case, Wilfred and Dale will be right down. There are no available rooms up here anyway.”
I make my way back down, blinking at all the bright light and gold fixtures. St. Peter waves as I go by. He always gives his most devoted a show, so someone must be coming.
@Aightball
249 words
Sade shook a finger at the dragon. “Don’t even, Nikos!” He opened his mouth and she jabbed his stomach, not that her finger would dent his scales. “I mean it. Fire is not always the answer.”
“It is in my world.”
She threw up her hands. “Are you seriously serious right now?” The massive beast slow blinked and if that wasn’t a smirk on his face, she wasn’t an FBI agent. “Don’t make me shoot you.”
Scales above his eye rose in the equivalent of an arrogant eyebrow. “Your pistol will do little damage.”
She stomped on what would be his big toe had he been in human form. He yowled. “I shoot you in the foot, you gonna dance me a jig?”
Curls of smoke unfurled from the dragon’s nostrils.
“Think he can blow smoke rings?” Caleb spoke sotto voce but the dragon heard and glowered.
“Don’t be such a werewolf, Caleb.” Everyone turned to look at Ariel. He shrugged.
Sade hoped to regain control of the situation, though the looming presence of the dragon rather precluded that. “Did you talk with Oberon and Titania?”
“I did.”
“
And you laid out our plan?”
“I did.”
Making a well-spit-it-out face, she pushed. “And?”
“
They don’t like it.” Ariel held up a hand staying her protest. “It’s a delicate situation. They don’t want Mab to find a foothold here but stopping her could mean war between the Fae.”
“I could always roast and eat her,” Nikos volunteered.
That was too simple.
****
250 Penumbra Papers #^ WIP words
Silver James
https://silverjames.com
The impact of her duplicate’s fist on Helen Harper’s cheek wasn’t bad. Absorbing a whole ass other her through her face, however… Was bizarre. She staggered, clutching her head. Her other hostile duplicates backed off.
‘They don’t like it when I absorb them,’ Helen smiled grimly.
Of course, Helen hadn’t enjoyed the experience herself. Something had been in the duplicate’s head that shouldn’t have been. Helen wiped the squished remains of the parasite off her cheek with the back of her hand. Foreign contaminants were more or less filtered out on reintegration, though remnants of this one buzzed like a jackhammer in Helen’s head.
She surrounded herself with a circle of fresh duplicates. Helen hated using herself as a human shield, but she wasn’t chancing another exposure to whatever that was. She and her new duplicates fought in formation through their opposites.
No further absorptions. Whoever was creating these enemy duplicates was similarly close to the original as Helen herself. As far as she knew, that narrowed it down to the missing superhero, Gemini. Or her supervillain opposite.
More mind-numbing buzzing, not in Helen’s head, pressed down on the combatants. An insectile woman hovered in a cloud of the parasitic bugs.
“Another high-level copy. How delightful. You make most convenient servants.”
Helen pursed her lips. Took a deep breath through her nose and began passing out earplugs from her utility belt to her friendly duplicates. She found the thing responsible for superhero-her’s disappearance.
No biggie. Totally fine.
247 The Many Lives of Gemini words
@davidaludwig.bsky.social