Welcome back to the home of #ThursThreads for Week 704. 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 Facebook.
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 704:
Dead Thing Specialist, Mining Geologist, and Gamer, George Varhalmi.
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And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.
The Prompt:
“Just pay attention.”
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!
The Obituary of Frank Fellows
The Fellow’s family along with the National Walking Without A Care Society are sad to report the sudden passing of their erstwhile family patriarch, and founder of the NWWACS. Franklyn Fitzgerald Fellows two weeks ago this coming Saturday.
Frank leaves three ex-wives, an untabulated number of children…and we assume some grandchildren, his mostly blind support dog, Donald, and our 300 Society members.
Always a disarming albeit distracted fellow, Frank was a ferocious advocate for the rights of humans to walk wherever they pleased. Eschewing all forms of motorized travel, except for his recently acquired e-bike that didn’t seem to get a whole lot of use, Frank proved to be a formidable advocate for the rights of everyone to jaywalk, to trespass, to move their feet in harmony with the occasional undulations of the earth.
One unfortunate yet constant result of his libertarian sauntering advocacy involved numerous court appearance. Frank’s legal efforts to free humanity from the constraints of cross walking signage, and all manner of authoritarian efforts to control access to anywhere did cause him some endless grief, financial specifically. Strangers were constantly yelling at him to just pay attention to coming traffic. Alas, the last warning from a bystander probably should have been heeded.
There will be no formal memorial but friends and loyal supporters of NWWACS and unattached pedestrians are encouraged to jaywalk at will this coming Saturday as we honour Frank’s devotion to walking wherever and whenever the heck you want to.
250 Words
@billmelaterplea
@sterlings-son-2.bsky.social
Domain was a curious word. It seemed like something a dragon or demon would say.
Just pay attention, Ahram, his grandmother’s voice admonished. You learn nothing from speculation and everything from asking the right questions.
Ahram studied the man to see if he could tell if he was human or not. He leaned languidly against the boulder, and his whole being oozed capability, as if he could still move at lightning speed despite his relaxed appearance.
“Oh, uhm, I’m sorry. I didn’t know this was private land.”
There was nothing different about this piece of road than any other bit he’d been on coming or going to the Dragon Knight of the Realm Competition in Calenthia.
And I was the first to wash out of the competition, so here I am, heading back home after barely an afternoon ‘fighting’.
The problem was he was two weeks into the return journey to his home village, out of provisions, most of his coinage, and uncertain what he should do. Returning home with his tail between his legs felt like a monumental failure at succeeding in his dreams.
Be honest, it wasn’t really my dream I was trying to succeed at.
No, it was his father’s, a dream meant to toughen up his youngest son who was more interested in plants and gardening than being a warrior. Now, Ahram was coming home after being the first to be eliminated on the first day.
Won’t that make Dad proud.
245 ineligible #LGBTQIA words
https://patreon.com/SiobhanMuir
Aisling stared down the long, dark tunnel, waiting for her eyes to adjust. She glanced at the man standing beside her. “Are you sure about this?”
“Just pay attention. Watch your step. And…” Ariel’s voice trailed off.
“And what?” Pleased her voice didn’t quaver, she gave him a pointed stare.
“And whatever you do, don’t freak.”At her glare, he added, “How do you feel about rats?”
Choking on the saliva suddenly filled her mouth, she managed to squeak, “Rats?”
“Yes. These tunnels are part of Rochester’s sewer system. There’s no telling what actually lives down here.”
“Rats?” Aisling asked again, her voice stronger and far more strident.
“Yes. Rats. Plus other things.” He paused. “That might be worse.”
Eyes wide, she took two steps back putting more space between them. “What’s worse than rats?” She all but screamed and her last word echoed into the distance. As the sound faded away, other noise took it’s place—the skittering of tiny claws and high-pitched squeals.
“No-no-no-no,” she chanted, then she turned and fled.
Ariel dropped his chin to his chest and sighed. He’d known this excursion was a bad idea but Aisling insisted on being included. Then he heard her scream. Sprinting, he arrived at the entrance just in time to duck. “It’s me, Caleb,” he snarled then glowered at the woman next to Aisling.
Aisling looked panicked. “You know them?”
Sade beat him to the introductions. “Agents Sade Marquis and Caleb Jones, FBI. And you are?”
“Aisling Goodnight. Librarian.”
****
250 Penumbra Papers #6 WIP words
Silver James
https://silverjames.com
The forest was a dangerous place. Even Sage’s dad had to always be alert. The flower he was showing her was the type her mama loved for her outfits. That or the kind that spat acid.
Sage scrambled up an ancient tree to hang upside down from a mid-branch. She couldn’t just pay attention. She had to be doing something. Her dad grunted and pointed sternly at the ground. Sage shrugged and scratched herself.
Before he could insist, the forest erupted with fleeing beasts and birds. The girl covered herself with her arms. The animals rushed past. Her dad turned toward the thunderous buzz driving the beasts before it. An arch beetle.
The massive, armored insect wove around the trees and straight for the wide-eyed girl. Her dad roared and leapt above the flying beetle to crater it into the ground with both fists. The beetle twisted, bit and scratched as Sage’s dad cracked its armor with his relentless rain of fists.
Sage frowned. The bug wasn’t even as big as her dad, making it a male. There should be a female hunting nearby too.
She launched herself away from the monstrous mandibles just in time. Kicking off the tree across the way, Sage flew back at the charging female. The girl rolled over the monster’s head to cling to its back. She began seeking soft spots with her own fists.
Sage might not have her dad’s technique. But she had her mama’s strength.
244 words
@davidaludwig.bsky.social
I wrote another e-mail today. Actually, I wrote 2 emails today. And had two on-line chats. That was a typical day for me. There were people I knew to check on. Because.
They were alone. For whatever reason. They were alone.
Yeah. I know. Most people wouldn’t ever get in touch with them. Hidden chronic illnesses, divorced twice, living somewhere they hated. Whatever the reason. They were alone. And I knew that.
I read it in their words. It was obvious to me. Stuck in their houses, some of them all day, every day.
It angered me that people ignored them. Left them. Pretended everything was OK. It wasn’t. And ignoring something or someone didn’t make it or them disappear. These were my friends. I take care of my friends. At least I try to. As much as I can.
But I knew most people weren’t like me. They long ago stopped listening to their hearts. Something about being hurt. About never wanting to be hurt like that again. About protecting themselves.
Like the time someone told me, “You can’t afford to care.”
Yes, I could afford it. Maybe I’d get hurt. Maybe not. But I always got rewarded. I’d learned friendship is priceless. And you accept it when it shows up. And it lives beyond the physical friendship. It lives in memories.
I found I wished people would just pay attention, and build memories. If they paid attention, it would change the world.
244 Words
@mysoulstears.bsky.social
Is it fair to blame for what happened that night? My grandmother would scold me saying “Petra just pay attention!! And never ever raise your voice.” The problem was world buzzes at such a high cycle. I tried wearing ear phones, everyone just thought I was weird, or shy. The noise that night was odd I heard a heartbeat, and just not any heartbeat one which unheard of, had the same rhythm as my own. I didn’t mark my trail I just followed. I found a woman who was my identical twin. Her mouth was covered with some cloths so she couldn’t make a sound. I was about to question her when I was knocked on the head and woke up here. They tried to cover my mouth unsuccessfully and called me Perpetua.
The same guards have now all been torn limb to limb. I must have done though I don’t remember.
I left through the door and that’s when I spot more guards and Perpetua her mouth now uncovered in the distance. Perpetua sang and the guards fall down dead.
“The man who harmed you is dead. Come learn our power, and take us home, “Perpetua says,
“What power?”
“The power to be ourselves, and if someone opposes that to yell, until they obeisance and let us be.”
I told her that I didn’t know the way, home and she laughed and said, “We are more alike than I thought. Come sister, we will live well and protect ourselves.”
250 words @sweetsheil.bsky.social
Just pay attention, my parents told me. Don’t go through life with my head buried in a book. Or the clouds. So I spend an hour each day looking around. Listening.
And remembering.
I knew my brain didn’t work like most people’s. I had perfect recall of everything I’d read, every song I’ve heard, every food I’ve tasted. I had no skills to create on my own, but if I encountered something someone else created, my brain would make a record of it forever.
I first saw him at exactly thirteen seconds after twelve o’clock on the eleventh day of the tenth month of the ninth year after the turn of the century. He was the eighth such person I’d noticed during my hour that day, and the only one who no one else would remember. I could tell that was a goal of his, to be forgotten. He didn’t count on me.
He thought he was alone in the world. People who belonged walked differently. They weren’t afraid to be seen, to be heard. Something about it terrified him, though.
I followed him for more than the required hour. It was easy; I knew how not to be seen. It’s one of the things you learn when you yourself can see.
After two, I knew he had a gun. After three, I knew he was going to use it. After five, I knew when and where. After six, I knew why.
I paid attention.
245 words
@drmag00.bsky.social
#ThursThreads Week 704 is now CLOSED. Thanks to everyone who wrote this week and I hope to catch you next week.