Welcome back to the home of #ThursThreads for Week 695. 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 695:
Jolly cynic and Transcendentalist groupie, K.R. Van Horn.
Bluesky |
And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.
The Prompt:
“You know what I mean?”
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!
Bar None
It was early in the day, not even ten in the blessed morning but I had a yen to wet my whistle. I’d called in sick, not a thing to be proud of and I ain’t a malingerer in case you were wondering.
It was just one of those morning when the world goes all wonky.
When you start the day watching the news, you’re asking for it, right? Lots of people just shutdown the outside world but not me.
First off, Trump has his Cabal of Peace. I know, I made that up. Whatever it is, the Pope ain’t playing.
Points for him in my book.
But then, Randy Andy, ex-Prince of all he Betrayed, arrested.
Cuffed I hope. You know what I mean? Treated like any crim. Sure, all that innocent until proven crapola but guilt is guilt, right? That’s what we, the common folk know. You better know what I mean…sure you do.
What gets in my craw is that I am a friggin’ Royalist. Love the various Monarchies….Old Liz, my God, she must be turning in her Royal Crypt or wherever she’s planted.
So, feeling happy and depressed at the same time, which ain’t as easy as you might think, you can see why I needed a drink so here I am, walking to the Bar None, my favourite watering hole, talking to myself on the street, hoping I don’t get picked up an sent to the loony bin.
It’s just that kinda morning.
250 Words
@billmelaterplea
@sterlings-son-2.bsky.social
Ariel neatly sliced his French toast into exact squares. He had not doused the plate with syrup and three link sausages lined up with military precision next to a perfectly round fried egg, the yolk almost orange in color staring at him like the sun through a white cloud. He ignored Druic, regretting the fact he’d told the kid of his dream.
Druic looked everywhere but at the man sitting across the table from him. He poked at the pile of scrambled eggs on his plate then chased a piece of bacon across it. He sipped his coffee, drank his orange juice. And he fretted. Fae did not dream and the fact that not only had Ariel dreamed vividly, but that he was willing to discuss it put him on alert. In the back of his mind, he knew he should make note of this occurrence and notify Queen Titania but dreams were…bad. The were often the precursor to madness in his people. He didn’t want Ariel to be crazy. He jerked when Ariel spoke.
“I know what you’re thinking, Druic.”
He forced himself to look at the other fae. “I don’t want you to be mad!” He blurted the words without thinking.
Ariel nodded. “What do you know of dreams?”
The boy floundered so Ariel continued. “We don’t dream. But we can enter other’s dreams. Do you know what I mean?”
Shocked, Druic could only ask, “Who?”
“My guess is Titania.”
“But why?”
“Because she can.”
****
250 Penuymbra Papers #6 WIP words
Silver James
https://silverjames.com