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 Discord 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 Bluesky, MeWe, Discord, and Mastodon, etc.
Our Judge for Week 694:
Scientist, Dad, and flash fiction author, Eric Martell.
And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.
The Prompt:
“That counts for something, right?”
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!
In a Fog
“Thick as pea soup. Ain’t that what they say, Lady?”
He’s a rough lookin’ boy. Just him and me at the loop. Waiting for the 11:05. There’s usually just me, Maggie McAdam, leaving my shift at the Conkers. Tucking the old bird in, not leavin’ until Hestia comes for the graveyard shift. She was on time tonight. Not always the way with her.
I don’t like talking to folks after work. My brains all full of home care fiddle-faddle, cleaning, wiping, all the messy little bits and bobs of caring for the feeble. But I’d better say something. Just to be polite. Unless he’s got somethin’ else on his rough little mind. Rough lookin’ but not all that big. My size if it comes to that.
I nod, say. “Yes, that’s what they say. I’ve said it meself once in a while,” I throw in, just to be polite, let him know I’m normal.
Think it, anyways.
“Bus might be late,” he says.
I glance at my wristwatch, and he’s right. 11:10 pm.
“The fog,” I offer as if it could be anything else. Stupid thing to say. So I add, “Usually pretty on time.
That counts for something, right?”
“Not in my book. Slack ass drivers. Taking their own good time. I got places to be…you know what I mean?”
“Me too, “ I say though I want to say, ‘Maybe you should just start walkin’.’
I don’t of course.
I just want to get home.
250 Words
@billmelaterplea
@sterlings-son-2.bsky.social
Ariel leaned back against the ladder back chair, his long legs stretched out to the side but not fully blocking the space between their table and the next. He watched Aisling fiddle with her coffee mug, first by adding cream and sugar, then stirring, sipping, stirring again. He waited. She finally shoved the mug away and looked up at him, meeting his direct gaze.
“Okay, fine. What do you want to know?”
He almost smiled. That was what Sade would call a loaded question. He wanted to know everything. Who was she? Why were both Fae courts so interested in her? Perhaps the most important question would be, what was she?
“Let’s start with the library. How did you discover the secret vault?”
She glanced away then focused once more on her mug and stirred the creamy liquid again. “I just did.”
“Just did what?”
“Find it. I was in the lowest basement and there was a door. I opened it and…” One shoulder lifted in a half-hearted gesture signifying both nothing and everything. “There was a corridor with one door. I opened it. The room was full of books. Boxes and scrolls and…” She looked up. “You’ve seen it. You know what’s there.”
“I know what was there.”
Aisling dropped her gaze, slumping. “Why is that book more important than the rest?”
“Because it is.”
“That’s no answer.”
“It is. The answer. To everything.”
Her mouth formed an “O.” “I know where it is. That counts for something, right?”
****
250 Penumbra Papers #6 WIP
Silver James
https://silverjames.com
“I don’t know how much help I’ll be with ghosts, but I’ll look at security feeds and go from there. Do you have a place I can set up?”
“Yeah, let me show you the business office.”
Seline led her back behind the bar to a space not much bigger than a walk-in closet. It held a desk with a surprisingly high quality computer chair, a couple of filing cabinets, and a small one-way window that looked out on the bar/foyer. The desk held a laptop and cordless mouse, a push-button phone, and papers in neat stacks.
“Is it all right if I clear off some space to work?”
“What’s going on in here?” Mama Audasity appeared in the doorway, a scowl marring her made up features.
Does she ever take the makeup off?
“Oh, Mama, I called in Lisa Dunwoody from Sirens, Inc. Not only does she know Barrett, but she said she could help find them. I said she could use the office to work.” Seline rested a hand against Mama’s large shoulder. “Please, I didn’t know what else to do since Barrett didn’t text me when they got home the other night.”
“Barrett promised to text you?” Lisa asked as she opened her laptop and booted it up.
“Yeah. The ghosts had been going crazy that day, too.”
Lisa grimaced. “I guess that counts for something.”
“Right? I figured it was the best way to make sure they got home safely after what happened to Carl.”
249 ineligible #SirensInc words
@siobhanmuir.bsky.social
“Him! He is the Chosen One!”
Zee pointed rapturously at the orc hiking towards them, away from town.
“Oh my.” Hanako considered the approaching, robed man. “Well, he does have the staff of the arcane college.”
Boogey growled and faded into the shadows at the edge of the trail. The orc only looked up in time to see Hanako and Zee.
“Huh? A goblin and a hobgoblin? What’s up? We don’t usually see many other monsters around here.”
“You’re the Chosen One!” Zee rushed to his side, stopping short of hugging his leg. “The angels say you are destined to lead our quest against the Arch-Lich!”
Hanako covered a laugh with her folding fan. The orc glanced dumbly between the zealous goblin and coy hobgoblin.
“Huh? Wha–!?” the orc jumped as Boogey stepped out onto the trail behind him. “A bugbear too?! What’s going on here?”
Hanako lowered her fan and smiled.
“What my colleague meant to say, is that we need someone to lower the arcane wards at the Forlorn Tower. Do you think you would be able to help us?”
The orc blinked. The gears in his mind clearly not connecting. Hanako slapped her fan shut.
“Oh! Our manners! My name is Hanako. She’s Zee, and that’s the Boogey Ma’am.”
“Luger.” The orc scratched his head. “Arcane wards? I mean, maybe. I did get a D+ in abjuration last quarter. That counts for something, right?”
“He’s perfect,” Zee whispered, stars in her eyes.
246 words
@davidaludwig.bsky.social
My brother always got out of the hard work at home by saying after the work was finished. or done badly, ““That counts for something, right?”
It counted for nothing; he did it on purpose so he wouldn’t be asked again but it worked with our parents so I guess that’s why he did it. The problem was he never learned that he had to do menial labor. Everyone must feed clothe and house themselves with some kind of work unless you were rich and we weren’t!! So, what did little brother do he found a way to do as little work as possible and still get rich, so, he didn’t have to do those menial tasks, but using others work as he always had. He was rich sinking rich some might say, He had forgotten the golden rule of being rich though, bloodline rich tops newly minted and he treated everyone badly.
Let’s just say his fall from grace came sooner than later, he ticked off the wrong, or should I say wrong person’s daughter. My brother is now working in his fifth fast food job. They always tell him he doesn’t care enough about his work to actually do it either correctly, or completely. Then he’s fired again. I think I’m going to have support him forever, as I’m running out of friends who will give him a job. I wish my parents had taught him that his sex should not get him out of menial tasks,
249 words
@sweetsheil.bsky.social
Limbo isn’t what I thought it would be, in terms of being some sort of dark void where I’d await my fate. I have a job managing the hour glasses that determines people’s time left on earth. But it doesn’t stop me missing my family. Everyone here is nice, we’re all in the same boat, but it still sucks.
My dust wand meanders around the hour glasses, making sure no dust is left. A dusty hour glass means life goes on. I know where my wife’s hourglass is and I look at it daily. I take inventory, making sure nothing happens to the hour glasses; that counts for something, right? When someone comes over I should be able to join them and enjoy my eternal rest.
“Liam, you have a visitor.”
I’m not on the hour glass selection committee this week, so I have no idea who’s been called over. Inventory comes after cleaning, and that’s when I find out who died.
“I do?”
I glance down row A, and my family’s hour glasses are all there. I walk out to the lobby, where the Deathers bring the souls of the departed.
“Liam!”
She rushes to hug me, no longer frail and suffering from Alzheimer’s.
“Grandma! I’ve been waiting forever!”
She stands back, looking me over. “I know. The time had to be right.”
A door opens and I spy a familiar living room. Grandma and I head home, her favorite show degrade on the TV.
@Aightball’
246 words
Hallie toed the nearest body her with her boot. Yep, definitely dead. Not even Miracle Max could bring this one back, or any of the other in the room. She holstered her pistols as familiar boots stomped into the room.
“I got ‘em all, except Pascal. That counts for something, right?”
Her handler, Alston, examined the carnage, his face inscrutable. “You know it doesn’t.”
“Well, it should.”
“Perhaps,” Alston conceded. “But you knew the answer before you asked. You let him get away.”
Anger flared through her. She barely made it out alive and that wasn’t enough? “I nearly died getting through his thugs. I had no choice.”
“You always have a choice. You may not like the choices, but you always have one.” Alston countered, whirling on her. His calm façade finally broke, his expression darkening in fury. “Half-measures mean nothing. This,” he gestured at the slaughter around them. “Means nothing without Pascal’s death. He will regroup faster than you can reload.”
Hallie bit down her retort. She knew Alston was right, even if she didn’t want to admit it. She refused to consider it a failure, however. These men were some of the deadliest within Pascal’s organization. He wouldn’t have them to protect him next time. And there absolutely would be a next time.
Techs began pouring into the room to examine the bodies and start the clean-up. Once done, no one would be able to tell that anything happened here.
“I won’t miss again,” Hallie vowed.
249 words
@mlgammella.bsky.social
#ThursThreads Week 694 is now CLOSED. Thanks to everyone who wrote this week and I hope to catch you next week.