Welcome back to the home of #ThursThreads for Week 684. Year Lucky 13! The last year of the cycle, the Moon Year. To those who keep coming back, I’m delighted to see you again!
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 684:
Gamer, writer, and responsive connoisseur of characters and stories, David Ludwig.
And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.
The Prompt:
“Be ready at dark.”
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 in the Moon Year. Good luck!
An Old Dick
I was now between gigs. Not music. Couldn’t carry a tune even if I had a burro. Or a camel. Smoked my lungs out in the day. Maybe I was getting past it. No one seemed all that interested in hiring a long in the tooth dick these days.
My last job was two months ago. Undercover in a retirement home. Grace Macadoo’s grandson, Michael, a young Republican, was worried that his eighty-six-year-old Grannie was being taken to the Romeo cleaners by a slightly younger masher, Hugh Hennessey.
“Talks a lot of blarney. Irish. Probably IRA, I figure,” Michael said. “Or Greenpeace. One of those terrorists groups.”
So I signed myself into the Peaceful Pastures Home for the Elegantly Retired.
It took me a couple of weeks to worm my way into Hennessey’s confidence. Talkative fellow to be sure. Younger than Grace by three years. And damned if I didn’t take to him. It was easy to see that he and Grace were sympatico. Not that I’d ever found a partner like that but I sure sensed that they were meant for each other.
And needed to be away.
“We’re breaking out,” Hugh told me one night.
“It’s a retirement home,” I reminded him. “All you need to do is walk out.”
“It’s the thrill of escape, I crave,” he said. He told Grace to be ready at dark. The Uber will be waiting.
It was and they drove away.
Grandson Mickie wasn’t happy.
Oddly, I was.
250 Words
@billmelaterplea
@sterlings-son-2.bsky.social
I love this delivery of breaking out of a nursing home.
Doc knew the worst time for me was the few hours after sunset. Once the sun went down, darkness descended on everything. It was something I always had to prepare for. “Be ready at dark.”
I got my spoonful of peanut butter, and my soda. I’d consume them when it got dark enough. I put on my bone conduction earphones, and grabbed my phone. I had over 600 songs on my phone. Songs that made me feel better. Songs that made me feel lighter, happier.
Most people have a zillion pictures on their phones. Selfies. Flowers. Sunsets. Friends. I had music. That music helped me feel alive. Whereas pictures were just pictures. Memories maybe got associated with them. But memories were something I didn’t really like.
“Be ready at dark. That’s when the bad stuff comes out of the shadows in the corners.” Depression was funny like that. It was predictable in a lot of ways. Like how I knew it would spike with the sunset. That’s the thing. If I paid attention, and didn’t let the ache I felt get in the way, consume everything else, I could figure it out. How it worked. When it spiked. Why it spiked at that time.
As the sun set, I put on the music. I set the phone to play random songs. Even though I knew most of them by sound. I had some of the peanut butter. Then washed it down with soda. “Bring it, darkness. You don’t scare me.”
250 words per Google Write.
@mysoulstears.bsky.social
I strongly relate to the huge music library.
My brother, Callum had said,” “Be ready at dark and meet me at the old asylum. It’s been closed down for awhile, but I know a way in. We can ghost hunt there.”
I’d bought some ghost hunting tools, a spirit box and a magnetic field metre so I could live stream.
Callum texted be there soon but that was an hour ago. And it was a pitch-black night. Finally, he showed up and without a word we entered and crept down the hall, I got an eerie feeling like someone was there. I pulled out the ghost tools and turned on live stream. I heard what at first sound like a whisper.
“She doesn’t believe, but she will now.”
I turned to Callum and said, ”Quit pranking me.”
He just held up his hands like he was saying he hadn’t.
We went down the corridor and I saw a shadow peek out from a room then swiftly move back in.
“I’m sorry,” Callum said,
“For what? “I asked.
“I shouldn’t have entered the building this afternoon.”
“I don’t understand.”
It was then that he stepped into the only light in the building and I realized what Callum meant.
“Where can I find you?” I demanded.
“Call the fire department and they can find me. It isn’t safe .”
They found him in the sub basement where the floor had collapsed. I never went ghost hunting again but then Callum has never left my side since.
@sweetsheil.bsky.social
246 words
Excellent evocation of the eerie environment.
Ariel slipped back into the shadowed stairwell. He would not admit his relief. As he’d been thinking of her all morning, it was as if he’d conjured her out of thin air. Still, he wasn’t ready to be seen yet. Of course, that was before that damnable dragon strode through the front door as if this hotel was his lair.
Sade instinctively turned to stare at the suave man striding toward her, the smile on his face not reaching his ice-blue eyes though his arms were open as if to offer a welcoming hug. The woman beside her caught her breath and let it out on an appreciative sigh. Sade couldn’t blame her. Nikos was something to look at.
“My darling Sade. What brings you here to the wilds of New York?”
He would have hugged her if she hadn’t stared him down. He laughed. She didn’t. What the bloody fucking hell are you doing here?”
“I might ask you the same question, Agent Marquis.”
“I’m here on official business.”
“As am I.” Nikos stared at the hallway.
Ariel stepped into the light and regarded them both. To Sade, he said, “You know about the murders?” She nodded. He’d already read the knowledge in Nikos’ eyes. “You have thoughts?”
“Serial killer,” Sade said immediately. “I know the victims are of a type but they’re all human. Is there something about their deaths that ties them to a magick?”
Ariel shrugged. “Perhaps. We need to go hunting. Be ready at dark.”
****’
250 Penumbra Papers #6 WIP words
Silver James
https://silverjames.com
This crew hunting a serial killer after dark sounds like a lot of fun.
“The police contacted her this morning. I have no idea when he was killed. Someone found his body behind a convenience store.”
“Oh, Barrett, I’m so sorry.” She sounded sympathetic, but they could hear her fingers on the keys of her keyboard. “What was Suzie Que’s IRL name?”
Barrett coughed a sob. “Carl Weinstein.”
“Okay, give me a few moments.” Again, her fingers sounded on the keyboard in the background. After a minute or so, Lisa gasped. “Sonuvaprick! He’s struck again. That sick mudfucker.”
“Who struck again? What are you talking about?”
“Nothing, just another project I’m working on.” He voice had tightened in frustrations. “The police didn’t mention anything about the condition of the body, did they?”
It was an odd question, but Barrett could answer. “Not much. They did say they found Carl all dressed up in drag as a trad housewife, 1950s style. It’s weird because Suzie Que never did the 50s.”
“Okay, I’ll just check with the ME’s office later in a few hours. The full report should be ready by dark tonight.” She took a deep breath though her fingers never stopped tapping keys. “I’m so sorry you lost your friend, Barrett.”
“Carl wasn’t a friend—not really. He was a snobby, insecure bitch-baby who was always trying to one-up me and stole a few of my makeup items.” Barrett’s voice dripped with disdain. “But he didn’t deserve to die or get murdered. I didn’t like him, but I didn’t want him dead.”
248 ineligible #SirensInc words
@SiobhanMuir on Discord
Excellent tension between what is and isn’t being said. I love the reveal that Barrett didn’t even like Carl and still reacted so strongly.
Destiny touches down on a riverbank along the Iowa/Minnesota border and I hop down, setting up my tripod.
“You made it.”
Overhead, the aurora dances, red, green, and pink; I can feel it.
“You said be ready at dark, but failed to say where.” I turn the focus to infinity.
“The view is worth the trouble, yes?”
“Yeah, it is.”
Our cameras click while our horses graze nearby. Horace, The One True Death soon to be retired, has never been sentimental, but the aurora leaves everyone in awe. We shoot for a while in silence.
“I think Percy and I will take up astrophotography when I retire.”
“Percy? Who’s Percy?”
He shuffles his feet. “Percy is…a…close friend.”
My eyebrow raises as the pink and green dance over Horace’s skeletal face, illuminating his eye sockets.
“Boyfriend.”
My eyebrow threatens to vacate my forehead.
“Spouse. We have been married for one hundred years. In secret. Because.”
“I understand. But loop me in sometimes and I can show you some cool things to shoot.”
The aurora dissipates and we pack up, and mount our horses. Horace pauses, reins in hand.
“We will do that. Percy enjoys the great outdoors more than I. But it seems my retirement will be spent outdoors more than indoors.”
With that, he turns and vanishes, just as the aurora comes back twice as strong. I quickly set up again and start shooting, wondering why, in this modern age, he and Percy are such a secret.
@Aightball
248 Words
I love the image of the aurora dancing over Horace’s skeletal face.
“Be ready at dark,” the note said. Ready for what, I didn’t know. It had been slipped under the door of my dorm room while I was in class. I almost missed it, since I’d been rushing back from class on a wet and windy fall day and was running late if I wanted to get to the cafeteria in time for lunch. But it stuck to my wet shoe and I heard it flapping as I ran down the hall.
All afternoon, I’d thought about what it could mean. Was it a threat? An invitation to something fun? My roommate had moved out mid-semester, so it was clearly meant for me, but I didn’t really know many other people, at least none that I knew well enough to invite me to something. For a moment, I fantasized that maybe one of the cute women I saw on campus every day was letting me know she knew I existed, but those things only happened on literotica.
Finally, my classes ended – God only knows what we were supposed to have learned – and I was back in my dorm. On the off chance it was something good, I’d put on clean clothes and made my room less of a disaster, but mostly I’d watched the sky outside dimming. Sunset was at 4:32, but was that “dark”?
I didn’t know.
Soon, the only light was from my watch face. I decided that I was being a fool.
Then I heard the knock.
250 words
@drmag00.bsky.social
I like using the prompt as the note the story hinges on.
– Them I Still –
The shadows Brown and Enigma drift into a hollow where light dares not gather. Here, darker shadows speak. Their voices flicker and hiss, grainy as old film. Syllables bend and fray just at the edge of language.
They speak in fragments. Molten thoughts:
𝒷𝑒 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝓎 𝒶𝓉
𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝓊𝓅𝑜𝓃 𝒷𝓁𝒶𝒸𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈
𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓂 𝐼 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁
Every sentence ends three words too early, or perhaps begins three too late.
Enigma leans close. “They’re trying to remember themselves.”
Brown nods as his hand traces a trembling phrase across a wall. Something about joy or home or light, but the phrase unravels before meaning can reach its destination.
They wander through the murmuring dark, gathering fragments in their hands. The phrases flutter like half-born moths and dissolve on touch.
Brown and Enigma discuss where the missing words go and determine that perhaps the words are not headed anywhere in particular. “Maybe they’re still being written,” says Brown.
Far above them, a shimmer stirs, and beneath their feet the ground shivers. Words buried just below the surface rustle, and Brown kneels to listen.
A voice not unlike his own sighs:
𝒾𝓉𝓈 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀
Then silence.
Enigma lowers his gaze in a silent question. Brown almost answers, but the words slip away before they form.
For a moment, all of shadowkind exhales, straining toward wholeness. But it all falls still again, and the world waits, and Brown and Enigma wait.
And then, somewhere in a pause between seconds, the missing words arrive. Three of them. Too late.
249 words
@krvanhorn (X and Bluesky)
I love the phrases “molten thoughts” and “murmuring dark.”
“Your father’s party didn’t do a very good job looting this place.”
Roy looked down his nose at the broken bodies, as above the decay as he could stand and still see.
“It wasn’t a for-profit expedition! They were exterminating a dangerous cult.”
Connor clutched his stomach with the hand not holding his lantern. Fiona rifled through the bones without her friends’ reservations.
“Nice!”
She drew a rusty shortsword from beneath a skeleton and discarded her stick over her shoulder. Roy turned over another skeleton with the toe of his boot. He found something worth crouching to investigate.
“You know, we might be able to equip ourselves well enough here to start adventuring without working odd jobs to save up for gear.”
“That’d be nice,” Fiona grabbed a breastplate near her size that mostly held together when she hefted it. “We can’t put this backwater town behind us fast enough.”
“What about what we’ve already saved?”
Connor stood awkwardly apart with his lantern. Roy rose, leather flaking out of his hand. The lockpicks inside were in reasonable condition.
“It’s not like we’re leaving tonight. We get what we can here, shop tomorrow, and we can be ready at dark.”
“Could you use a fourth?”
The trio jumped at the quiet voice behind them. A dark-robed figure stood in the shadows with the owl from before on her shoulder.
“Who are you!?”
“A survivor of this place.”
The three exchanged uneasy glances. The figure continued.
“I can cast spells.”
248 ineligible words
@davidaludwig.bsky.social
“Be ready by dark. I’ll pick you up for some fun in the dark.”
“Won’t your wife object?” Linda asked.
He stared at her, shook his head as if she were an idiot, and didn’t answer the question.
“You need to be dressed in black. I have a new balaclava you can wear, so only your eyes show. If you have any dark shadow, you might also slather some on.”
“But…”
“There is not time for you to question me. The moon is hidden tonight. We can move around easily.”
“But…”
“No time. Go home and get dressed. I’ll pick you up at 6:30, right after sunset.”
“I don’t…”
“Go! Now!”
Amy scurried from the room. She knew if she didn’t do as he said, there would be hell to pay.
Her watch indicated she had 45 minutes. It took 30 minutes to get home.
At 6:30, an old black Ford Falcon pulled up in front and honked.
Why wasn’t he in his car?
The driver honked again.
Dressed in a black hoodie and yoga pants, Amy grabbed her Colt and tucked it and her badge in the holster behind her back. Then she opened the door.
She heard his voice, “Hurry up.”
“Yes, Sir,” she grumbled.
He tossed her the face-covering. “Here!”
“Sir, are you going to explain?”
“Listen up, Rookie. Rumor has it, our thief is after the Red Opal. We’ll be hiding in the hedges.
“Will I…”
“Do I need to explain how to do your job?”
250 words
01whitty@gmail.com
I like the twist of them being law enforcement after the suspicious opening.
#ThursThreads is now CLOSED. Thanks to everyone who wrote this week and I hope to catch you next week.