Welcome back to the home of #ThursThreads for Week 718. 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 718:
Programmer by day, writer by night, Katheryn J. Avila.
Facebook | Bluesky | Goodreads |
And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.
The Prompt:
“I’ve got you.”
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!
An Idle Dick Moment
I wanted to sit back and not think about the state of the world. Like most thinking people, I was in a bit of a funk. Nothing seemed to going right. Wars weren’t ending. Nature was in revolt. The government was going after that fine old Doctor Fauci.
Santa Claus was likely next in their right-winged sights.
I had the television on as I worried away and suddenly I saw a story about a ninety-seven-year-old woman wing-walking.
That was that. The whole world was topsy-turvy.
Wingy, you might say.
I guess I did.
I watched the plane do its loops and wondered if the sweet aeronautically enthusiastic senior had a back up plan…something like a series of trampolines on the ground and a son or lover yelling up, “Hang on dearie, I’ve got you.”
She finally landed and my thoughts turned to my new case. I had fallen on hard times. A missing dog. Barely a dog. A chihuahua. Smallest pooch of all time. Lived in a gated community. Of course, something that small could squeak under any number of gates.
Truth was that I didn’t know where to start. I’d already spent a few hours wandering around the community yelling here, Fauci. Yeah, Fauci was everywhere. Getting ripped apart by a Senate Committee. And running around the Peaceful Valley Estates without a leash or any common sense.
It was truly the dog days of summer for me and all the Fauci’s
246 Words
@billmelaterplea
@sterlings-son-2.bsky.social
“I need help, Ariel.”
His tongue and his body both frozen at Aisling’s plea. When his muscles thawed, he breathed, filling his lungs with air and blowing it out until they were empty again. He had orders. He knew what he had to do. Reminding himself of his duty over and over, he dredged up words he didn’t want to utter.
“You forget, I’m no hero.”
Aisling’s gaze settled on him, her eyes all but glowing in the sudden moonlight. The look in them threatened to eviscerate him.
“I don’t need a hero,” she whispered. “I just need you.”
Her words slammed into him and it was all he could do to remain standing. He wanted to fall to his knees and beg her forgiveness. He wanted to run as far away from her as he could, just to keep her safe. From him. Duty was such a bastard.
“Help me.”
I won’t. I can’t. Those were the words he should say but they stuck in his throat. Instead, the words that came out were, “I will.”
She melted against him and that was that. If he was lucky, he’d only be banished. If he wasn’t, Oberon or Titania would have his head—in the literal sense. None of it mattered. Aisling was in his arms, the sweet fragrance of lilacs and sunshine filling his very being with a sense of rightness and purpose.
I’m scared,” she whispered into his chest.
“I’ve got you.” Now and forever, he promised silently.
****
250 Penumbra Papers #6 WIP words
Silver James
https://silverjames.com
Have you ever tried not to cry when you think about washing the dishes at night? I know. It’s stupid. And silly. To look at the dishes and try not to cry. Or scream. Or throw things. Or in general react like a 2-year-old. But these days that’s what happens when I look at the dishes.
Every now and then I manage to wash them. Too often I fail.
I used to be able to wash the dishes any time I wanted to. That was before the tired set it. Before her father fell and broke his leg in multiple places. Since then, we take care of her parents. When they need to get to a doctor’s appointment, we get them there. When they need odds and ends picked up at the store, we pick them up.
I tell myself this is OK. This is normal. That it’s OK to be this tired. This ready to take another nap. After all these months of taking care of her parents, I’m tired. And I know it.
I feel it every time I look at the kitchen sink, and the dishes. And every time I look at the dishes I want to walk away and hide somewhere. So the dishes pile up like they never used to pile up. And I keep trying to make myself wash them.
I look at the sink, and I think, “I’ve got you.” Then sometimes. Too often. I add, “Tomorrow.”
246 Words
@mysoulstears.bsky.social
Grace woke with her heart pounding and her head throbbing from the blow she took to the head in her dream.
Should’ve ducked faster.
Still, when she’d landed on the ground covered with golden leaves, someone caught her, cushioning her fall. When she’d looked up, all she saw were pale green eyes, and she heard a voice say, “I’ve got you.”
She groaned and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. The voice had been familiar, but the whole dream had been weird. She’d been dressed like some science fiction version of a warrior goddess out of Kenya, and she’d even heard the drums and chanting from a people she’d never known in this life.
And there’d been a huge black wolf with paws the size of dessert plates whose shoulder came to Grace’s waist in the dream. They’d stood together to face… whatever threat had been on the horizon. She’d never gotten a good look at it, but she’d been ready to take it down with her wolf and her blades.
I must be losing my mind.
She glanced down at herself to make sure she wasn’t still dressed in the warrior goddess get-up, but all she found were the covers of her bed in the cabin.
Right, I’m in Three Lakes for some R&R.
She slid out of bed and hissed as her feet hit the cold wood floor. Winter in the Warbler Peninsula of Michigan was no joke.
243 ineligible #SirensInc words
https://patreon.com/SiobhanMuir
“I’ve got you,” she said, swapping my empty out for another pint. It was just me and a family sitting at a table this afternoon, so she had more time to pay attention to me than usual.
I grunted, then decided I was being a dick. “Thanks. I’m having a bit of a shitty week.”
“I got a few minutes, if you need to spill.”
I took a sip, wiped my face. “Well, you see.” I paused. “The details don’t matter. Boss wants me – is demanding, really – to do something I don’t wanna do. Like really don’t wanna do. Not a crime or anything. Just don’t feel it’s right.”
“Can you quit?”
“Sure. Anyone can quit. But I like that my kids can eat and my wife can see the doctor, you know?”
“So you’re gonna stay.” It wasn’t a question.
She put her arms on the bar and leaned in. I didn’t look (much) into the cleavage her tank top showed off. She held my eyes with hers anyway.
“No one’s making you shoot someone, dude. You’re choosing to feed your kids. That’s a good thing, you know? Not everyone does. My dad…” She shook her head. “Makes you a good guy, not a bad guy. You’ll leave when you get something better, right?”
I nodded.
She smacked me on the shoulder. “Then stop fighting yourself so hard.”
She turned to let me think, and I dropped a stack of twenties on the bar. I had somewhere to be.
250 words
@drmag00.bsky.social
There were too many reasons to say no. But Yoshimi only needed one reason to say yes. She was tired. Tired of being overlooked, tired of working toward breaks that never came, and just too tired to care anymore.
“Okay, it’s a deal.”
Yoshimi extended her hand. The Demon Queen smiled and handed the actress the crystal perfume bottle with metal thorns.
“Excellent.”
As soon as Yoshimi touched the bottle the thorns exploded outward, twisting in the air so each one buried itself in her arm. The crystal changed into energy that entered Yoshimi’s hand. She was too shocked to scream.
The pain was brief as the thorns turned outward, giving Yoshimi’s arm the appearance of a thorny stem. She felt her skin tighten and harden as it turned shades of green and lavender. It was too much to process. Her face transformed into a literal mask as she grew out of her clothes, now clad in petal-like armor.
She laughed.
“This power! I can feel my power!” Her voice projected through her mask.
Yoshimi was giddy. This wasn’t what she expected but the power just felt too good for her to care. The Demon Queen was right. No one would ever overlook her again. The actress’s new patron smiled darkly.
“Now I’ve got you.”
215 re-submitted words because I forgot the prompt.
@davidaludwig.bsky.social
#ThursThreads Week 718 is now CLOSED. Thanks to everyone who wrote this week and I hope to catch you next week.