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!)