Welcome back to the home of #ThursThreads for Week 711. 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 711:
Bassett Hound Keeper, Editor, and Queer Romance author, Julia Talbot.
And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.
The Prompt:
“At least not at this level.”
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!
Dark Days
I’d been hanging tough in a trash-littered alley for three hours. The noontime sun was squeaking through, the blistering heat pounding my brain like Buddy Rich was there soloing his famous West Side Story medley.
Leaning against the side wall of Jack’s Tricks of the Trade, I had a clear view of Sol Hempfield’s Grocery Store.
I admit it. I had fallen on hard times. Business was in the dumpster and no one wanted their garbage picked up.
Then a bright spot.
A ten-spot, you might say.
Yesterday, he popped into my doorway, all four feet whatever of him. Big glasses, skinny as a straw, saying, “Can I hire you?”
I was tempted to say, I don’t babysit, but I held fire. Irony is usually lost on children. I read that once. So I asked, “To do what?”
He got right down to business. “You know Sol Hempfield’s store?”
I nodded ,”Yeah. Sol’s dead, right?”
“New owners, “ the kid replied.
“News to me. So?”
“That’ s where I buy candy. All the kids in the neighbourhood do.”
“Good to know,” I muttered, getting bored.
“Everything’s smaller these days. Chocolate bars…jawbreakers, even. I want you to find out why. We’re getting robbed.”
I wanted to educate the kid, tell him that shrinkflation had hit every market but he offered me fifty bucks. I was desperate, never been there before, at least not at this level.
“I’m your man,” I said.
It’d be like taking candy from a baby.
250 Words
@billmelaterplea
@sterlings-son-2.bsky.social
Title: Others
“How far do we have to dig?” Bryan asked, nibbling his fingers while he watched his uncle with the spade.
The older man wiped the sweat from his brow, leaning a wiry arm against the handle. “Not too far now, son.”
“Will I get in trouble?” Bryan whispered. “I’m only eight.”
The old man wiped his brow a second time, chewing his words with the same attention he gave his bottom lip. A scratch at his jaw swiped sand and earth over his skin. “Where do we live, son?”
The boy swallowed. “In the glen.”
The old man motioned behind himself without turning his head, but he stuck out his thumb like a hitch hiker. “Do we get these in the glen?”
“No, sir, at least not at this level. In school, they say maybe one every decade.”
“Well, then,” the old man sighed, “No one saw, then it didn’t happen.”
The boy’s eyes were saucers, watching his uncle’s worn boot turning up the last pile of earth, then he held his guts in with both hands as the old man pulled the twin dead things by their long, snake-like appendages into the pit.
Bryan gazed down at them. They’d almost killed him, but he’d had his dagger. “Not saying, that’s a lie.”
The old man spit, and turned to hold Bryan’s eye. “The only lie is the one they tell us, son.”
“What’s that?”
His uncle shucked the first shovel of dirt over the creatures. “That we’re alone.”
248 words
@gorashade.bluesky.social
An old farm house I ‘d always wished was mine since I was a child went up for sale. I lost the bid ,soon the house went up for rent. The rent was outrageously low. I moved in fixing things up, cabinet doors, leaks in plumbing even lovingly restoring some furniture that was left behind. I was happy there and then the landlord gave me notice.
I began to hear the noises. At first, it was just some tapping, then sounds of running on the staircase at night. One night getting up to go to the bathroom, I saw a see-through little boy dressed in clothes from the turn of the century.
“We didn’t think you could see us, at least not at this level, on this plain,” he explained.
“My parents want to meet you,” he said gestured, as two adult figures appeared beside him.
“We’re so glad you’re here,” the woman stated, ”Stay, please.”
“I wish I could the place is owned by someone else and they want me to move.”
“You are family, related by blood,” the woman replied.
“That stupid upstart, again? Bring him here and we’ll get rid of him,” the man said.
I had the landlord come out and they moved objects around him. He was terrified. Noticing, I was not afraid, he asked me if I wanted to purchase the place. I nodded and that how I became the owner of a haunted farm house. where the ghosts make us one happy family.
250 words @sweetsheil.bsky.social
Kazuya walked his father’s motorcycle into the narrow alley leading to the back of his aunt’s house. His mind raced with places to go now that he had his Ordinary License. But first, he’d promised his aunt he’d let her know how the examination went.
“Takahashi-san!”
A voice caused Kazuya to turn around. The voice’s owner was as cute as she sounded, waving excitedly. She wore the uniform of Kazuya’s school, but he was sure he’d never seen her before. There was something familiar about her voice, though.
“Hello?”
The girl ran to Kazuya, stopping short of grabbing his hand with both of hers. Her eyes shone excitedly.
“I just transferred to your school! You can call me Himeko Harada!”
“Oh! Nice to meet you. How did you know my name?”
Before Himeko could answer, a massive black tentacle nearly knocked Kazuya over from behind and seized the girl. Himeko screamed. Kazuya fell back against a wall and beheld a monstrous cephalopod filling the alley.
He had to act fast! Though it didn’t seem there was much he could do. At least not at this level.
He mounted his motorcycle and propelled it into the tentacle holding Himeko, wrapping an arm around her as the injured appendage loosened. Kazuya used his mind to lift the motorcycle bearing the teens into the sky.
Before their eerie adversary rallied, Kazuya psychically ripped out the alley’s utility boxes to brutally shock the thing. This was not how he saw today going.
248 words
@davidaludwig.bsky.social
The four men walked single file, Sinjen still leading. He paused when the tunnel branched. The others huddled behind him.
Caleb sniffed the air, sneezed and rubbed at his nose. “Not that way.” He waved vaguely at the right-hand branch.
Nikos stepped forward and peered into the darkness. His eyes flashed silver and he backed up. “I agree. Not that way.”
“Why not?” Ariel dodged out of the dragon’s path. “It looks no different—”
“How can you not feel it?” from Nikos.
“I can smell it.” The werewolf reared its head in Caleb’s terse declaration. “That’s some bad juju down that way.”
Sinjen took three step that direction, paused, his entire body on alert. After a long moment, he backed up and walked three steps into the left-hand tunnel.” He shook his head. “She’s not here, at least not at this level.” His vampire senses were on high alert yet he could tell nothing. “Magic,” he spat. “There is some sort of spell masking her presence.”
“But you are sure you felt her when we came through the door?” Ariel hoped his fear didn’t leak into his voice. Aisling would be with Sade and he could not yet admit his feelings.
The vampire eyed him. “Can you not feel the magic, Fae? Can you not control it?”
Ariel shook his head. “No. It is wild. It…”
“It hunts.” Dragon and werewolf spoke simultaneously.
“Yes,” Sinjen agreed. “It is time to turn the tables. We are the hunters now.”
****
248 Penumbra Papers #6 WIP words
Silver James
hutts://silverjames.com
I wondered if I should think positively or not. You know. Those old sayings. “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” I wasn’t sure anyone could make lemonade from the chaos. At least not at this level.
She was my better half and I knew that. I knew I would be lost without her. I looked at the computer screen and listened as the music played. Yeah. Like the song said, “She’s a whole different animal.” I wasn’t ready for this.
But I hadn’t been ready when she said, “You’re going to be a father.” Neither time she said it. I wasn’t ready when she said, “It’s time,” either. There were a lot of things I wasn’t ready for when they happened.
“I’m making lemonade.”
Somehow, I knew I’d find my way through the chaos. Like I had when our youngest had his first stitches. It’s what people do, right? They find a way to cope. A way through the chaos. A way to take care of the important people around them.
I knew I couldn’t go through any of the medical procedures for her. She’d have to endure them herself. All I could do was sit in the waiting room, and be there for moral support.
“Time to level up, isn’t it?”
My better half needed me to be there. To be present. To be attentive. To be with her. Life had given her lemons. Lots of them. It was time for me to help her make lemonade.
249 Words (per Google Write)
@mysoulstears.bsky.social
Maybe it’s not that the library doesn’t have enough fiction books. Maybe it’s because the library doesn’t have one rather distinct feature. He’s about six foot two, has mesmerizing hazel eyes, and loves reading romance.
Ann grimaced at the traitorous voice as the kettle whistled. She pulled it off the heat and poured herself a cup of rich, strong coffee. The idea of anyone catching her fancy was unnerving and weird. She rarely noticed and connected with other people outside of the Sirens. Sure, she was civil and courteous, but people were basically other animals around her. Part of the world, but no more enticing than the trees and flowers.
Being asexual meant things that triggered other folks, like scantily clad bodies, exaggerated features like broad shoulders, narrow waists, long legs, big breasts, pump asses, did nothing for her. She could admire a handsome or beautiful person, but unless they had a personality or intelligence to intrigue her, they were just pretty scenery to her.
But the man she’d met at the bookstore a few weeks ago had pinged her radar like no one else had ever done. At least not at this level of awareness.
That’s what makes the bookstore so much better than the library here.
She snorted into her coffee as she rolled her eyes. That’s silly.
“Morning, Thunder. Is there any coffee?” Marisol “Zorro” Gomez, U.S. Army retired stepped into the kitchen looking tired.
“Yup. Plenty. I just made a new pot.”
246 ineligible #SirensInc words
@siobhanmuir.bsky.social
#ThursThreads Week 711 is now CLOSED. Thanks to everyone who wrote this week and I hope to catch you next week.