Welcome back to the home of #ThursThreads for Week 705. 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 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 705:
Jolly cynic and Transcendentalist groupie, K.R. Van Horn.
Bluesky |
And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.
The Prompt:
“That might be worse.”
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 Five Messketeers
“We were camping out in Kaplan’s back yard that September,” I blurt out, ordering a third round.
Two heads nod. Old heads but still capable of some movement.
“Yeah, Jimmy Kaplan…wish he was still here…” Maggot laments.
“Hey, Mags, let’s got get all morbid,” I toss in and ask, knowing full well the answer, “What was that game we played? First time all five of us were allowed out all night, even if it was that stupid back yard?”
Maggot knows and lays it on us. “What’s the worse that could happen?” And then he yucks it up like he was still eight but wasn’t.”
“Yeah!” Walker slams the table with his arthritic paw. “God, we didn’t know there was a humongous ant hill on the other side of the fence.”
“Kaplan probably knew,” Maggot reveals… “had to…and didn’t think to mention…but they came.”
“And you had to squish a few,” Walker says, adding, “Kaplan had the answer to what’s the worse that could happen.”
“Ha,” I laugh. We’d all been to see that new giant ant film, THEM, at the Capital that summer. Our first movie and Kaplan’s mother was chaperoning in the back row making sure we didn’t scare ourselves to death, “Giant friggin’ ants for one. That might be worse than this.”
Of course, life did what it did. Took us in different directions…some for the better, some not. Kaplan five years ago and now our fifth Messketeer…Henson.
God, I’m getting tired of wakes.
250 Words
@billmelaterplea
@sterlings-son-2.bsky.social
I slide a plate of my brother’s favorite cookies across the table. “Did you ask any questions before you signed anything?”
He shakes his head. “Ron was honest and straightforward, and Rich said it was a good deal!”
Sighing, I grab a molasses cookie. Rich is our parents’ lawyer, whom they’ve known for decades. Rich is a nice guy, but he likes to spend money that’s not his.
“You now own your very own funeral home. And you’ve retained how many clients?”
He holds up one hand, five fingers displayed. “They were prepaid.”
Shaking my head, I dunk my cookie in my coffee, feeling like my grandmother when she and grandpa had big talks at this table.
“Have you told Mom and Dad yet?”
Brandon shoves half a cookie in his mouth and shakes his head.
“That might be worse,” he mutters.
He’s up shit creek and paddling against the current. The first payment is due in two days and he doesn’t have it.
“So what do I do?”
“Hope someone with a lot of money dies before your payment is due?”
His head thunks onto my table. But really, that’s about where he’s at unless he plans to rob a bank or something. He mutters something to my floor, then raises his head.
“I’ll talk to Mom and Dad.”
“It was nice knowing you. Take the cookies.”
He walks across the yard to our parent’s house. I’d sure like to be a fly on the wall for this conversation.
@Aightball
250 words (I did it!)
“Let them go, Farnsworth.”
She’d take him down and sleep well that night.
“No, Misty’s mine. She’s meant to be with me. She loves me.”
Oh, there was so much to unpack in those sentences, and Lisa gritted her teeth against the need to scream a denial.
“Let Misty go. She doesn’t want to stay here. She should be free to choose where she wants to be.” Lisa didn’t move her weapon off of Farnsworth, but she nodded to the cuff on Barrett’s right leg and the chain bolted to the wall. “If she wanted to be here, she wouldn’t need the chain.”
“The chain’s just until she gets used to being here. She won’t need it forever, will you, sweetums?” Farnsworth gave Misty a sickly sweet look. “We’re still getting used to each other. It always happens that way in new marriages.”
New marriage? What the actual fuck?
Misty’s expression didn’t change but they must have moved or tensed because Farnsworth growled and shoved the knife closer to Misty’s neck.
Lisa wrestled her frustration back so she could speak somewhat calmly.
“Let her go or we shoot, Farnsworth.” She hoped her bluff would work.
Lisa so wanted to put a bullet in Farnsworth’s head, but he held it too close to Barrett’s, and even if she didn’t hit Barrett, the splatter of brain matter and blood would traumatize them even more than they already were.
That might be worse for healing than just the shit that’s already happened.
250 ineligible #SirensInc Words
socel.net/@SiobhanMuir
“He’s really gone too far this time.”
Counselor Gwyneth pinched the bridge of her aquiline nose. Stout Counselor Koios grumbled his agreement.
“Hindsight and all that. We should have stopped him years ago.”
Gwyneth shook her head and turned to the balcony overlooking the harbor below.
“The girl’s the real problem. I can’t believe even Amadeus crossed that line.”
Koios nodded grimly.
“There is no chance for any kind of decent life for her. Too many know what she is.”
“That isn’t her fault!” Gwyneth hammered her fist against her opposite palm. She spun brightly back to Koios. “What if we sent her away? To the southern lands!”
Koios’ eyes widened in horror.
“That might be worse.”
Gwyneth blanched.
“No! Not there! I meant the new sanatorium.”
“Hmmm,” Koios stroked his white beard. “That might actually work.”
137 words
@davidaludwig.bsky.social
Light spilled from the stone arch that had appeared in the middle of the forest. Sade stepped toward it but Sinjen jerked her back. She snarled at the vampire. He simply stared at her until she rolled her eyes.
“Fine.” She pivoted and looked at the other men gathered in a semi-circle. Dragon, werewolf, baby fae. “Which of you has a better plan?”
Nikos and Caleb met her gaze at least. Druic stared at the grass growing just beyond the toes of his boots. None of them spoke.
“Sinjen?”
“No.”
“No what? No plan? No clue? No interest in rescuing Ariel?”
“No, you cannot got through that doorway.”
“Because I’m human? I’ve been dragged into and out of more realms in my lifetime than—”
“None of them were charmed.” Druic’s soft voice cut through her tirade. His eyes flicked up to meet hers for a fraction of a second. “It is Fae and not even I can pass through.”
Sade wanted to hit something…or someone. Curses sputtered on the end of her tongue and she finally cut loose with a string that had all four Magicks blushing. She wound down and finished with. “I can’t leave him there.”
Nikos sighed. “There is possibly a…” He glanced at Caleb. “What did you call it?”
“A back door.” Caleb shook his head at Sade. “That might be worse.”
“Ask me if I care.”
His voice tinged with resignation, Sinjen said, “You will go anyway.”
“He’s my friend.”
That explained it all.
****
250 Penumbra Papers #6 WIP words
Silver James
https://silverjames.com
I looked at the price per gallon of gasoline, “$4.09 a gallon.” I looked at the price of Supreme, “$4.49 a gallon.” I thought to myself, “That might be worse.”
I filled the tank on my little car. “$45.43.” I looked at the guy with the big truck on the next pump over. He was still filling his tank. “That might be worse.”
I used my credit card, paid for the gasoline, got in my car and drove off. I felt better than I could have. Part of me longed for the days of $3.09 a gallon. Or even $2.98 a gallon. But I could only feel so bad. After all, the car got better than 30 miles a gallon, and only held 10.6 gallons.
I had to feel for those families with their 7 seat SUVs, knowing they were getting 20 miles to the gallon at best.
I had to laugh at the guys and their big damn trucks. “It’s what they deserve. Get a truck like that to drive to work every day, when you could have been reasonable and bought a car.”
Face it. The guy in a business suit putting money in his big damn truck didn’t need a big damn truck.
I raised my hand in the air and cheered, “Yay for personal freedom! You’re free to be an idiot if you want to.”
Oh, I know they had reasons for their trucks. I laughed anyway.
247 words (per Google Write)
mysoulstears.bsky.social
#ThursThreads Week 705 is now CLOSED. Thanks to everyone who wrote this week and I hope to catch you next week.