Welcome back to the home of #ThursThreads for Week 724. 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 724:
Scientist, Dad, and flash fiction author, Eric Martell.
And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.
The Prompt:
“We’ll get right on it.”
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!
Flight of Antsy
Leroy Lemster had never flown. While billions of people had been flying off to vacation paradises, distant locales, he had always grounded himself.
When asked, he told the unvarnished truth. “When I was twelve, I went to see a Jimmy Stewart movie. The FBI Story. After ten minutes, I walked out.”
As most people hadn’t ever seen the film, or not really remembered it, they usually had to ask, “Why?”
Leroy would then tell them. “A plane is blown up in the sky. All those people killed by a mother murderer…for the insurance.”
And there it was, and because of that cinematically traumatic childhood experience, Leroy had never flown.
But now, Muriel, his hard done, put-upon wife of forty-five years had laid the law down.
“I’ve had a lifetime of this stupidity, Leroy. Here they are. The tickets. Two tickets to fly to Hawaii. No more boats. We are going to fly. We’re going to march right down to the airport, stand in line, get all checked in, get to the plane where we’ll get right on it, find our seats, sit down, buckle up and fly to Honolulu. Where we will have a great time.”
Leroy had never seen Muriel so insistent. He could feel his rubbery knees buckle onto their thirty-year-old shag carpet.
Maybe it was time, he thought.
He’d had a good life.
The children were well-off.
And when the plane did crash, he would be vindicated.
That would be almost worth dying.
250 words
@billmelaterplea
@sterlings-son-2.bsky.social
Kate released Grace’s hands and stood up. Grace heard an audible pop! and blinked as if coming back to herself. Kate had started a sink full of dishes, and the men’s voices intruded from the living room.
When did they come in?
She took a deep breath and gathered her wits as Deshawn strode into the kitchen to take the chair where Kate had been sitting.
“Hey, Grace. Are you okay?”
“Uhm, yeah. Yes. I’m okay.” She wasn’t, but she didn’t know how to process everything Kate had said to her in that odd blessing yet.
“I think Grace could use some down time, Deshawn. Lots of rest and fluids, too.” Kate appeared beside them as Deshawn’s face creased with a worried frown. “Take some of this tea and have her drink a full pot when she gets home. Also, can you take four containers of cookies to the Little Hands shelter? Balder is expecting them for the holiday party tonight.”
“Yeah, we’ll get right on it.” Deshawn nodded while Kate packed up the cookies in a reusable bag with cats and books on it. “How did it go, overall?”
How did what go?
But Grace’s mind wasn’t functioning quite as clearly as it had when she’d arrived, and she was suddenly very tired.
“It went well, but it’s a lot. You’re running out of time, Deshawn. You’ll need to do it tonight or the opportunity could be lost.”
“Forever?” Why did he sound so concerned.
“Close enough.”
248 ineligible #SirensInc words
@siobhanmuir.bsky.social
From the library’s roof, the Ravens, glamoured to appear as their namesake, watched the man and woman on the bridge below.
“Well,” Orin drawled. “An interesting development indeed.”
Bran ignored him. He bloody well wanted to throttle Ariel for being so blasted obvious.
“Have you told her yet?”
“Told her what?”
“That we’ve found the one.”
Shaking his head in denial, Bran focused on Orin. “She’s not. I don’t know what she is, but she is not who we are looking for.”
Orin burst out laughing. To the humans below, it sounded like raucous cawing. “If that’s the game you wish to play, I’ll go along with your lie for a time. I’m not the one the Queen will—” he paused to gloat then continued, eyes alight with wicked malice. “Bestow her most tender mercies upon.”
Bran said nothing. The other Raven was correct. If Queen Mab discovered…no. When the queen discovered he’d lied to her, he’d be lucky to escape her mercies with his life. He’d suffered her wrath before and had the scars to show for it. He also knew Orin held both ambition and grudge. It was just a matter of time before the other Fae betrayed him to Mab. Glancing at Orin, he asked, “What have you reported to her?”
“Our lack of progress.”
“And?”
“She’s not happy. She wants results and wants them now.”
“How did you reply?”
“That we’ll get right on it.”
Bran had been afraid of that. Time was running out.
****
250 Penumbra Papers #6 WIP
Silver James
Silver James on Facebook
“Seriously? Yeah, thanks; we’ll get right on it!”
Cara Cantrill hung up her phone and turned to the others.
“My friends say Raul’s fighting a bunch of those skeletal devils!”
Ermengarde’s expression didn’t change, but somehow her frown felt deeper.
“Gaunts. We need to get there before they have a chance to feed.”
“I’ll fire up the van!” Uncle Phil lurched to his feet.
Minutes later, they pulled up in time to see Raul throw a gaunt into an electrified fence. The devil thrashed against the current then twisted around and began gnawing on the charged metal.
“Damn!” Ermengarde cursed. “Get that thing off of there!”
The other gaunts broke off from fighting Raul to also rush the fence. Raul caught one by the back of the neck but the other he reached for slipped his grasp. Before Cara could figure out what was going on, the now-glowing gaunts had eaten the entire electric fence. She shielded her eyes as the glow intensified.
The devils fused together into a single mass, even the one Raul had caught was pulled from his grasp to hurtle into the others. The light faded, revealing a metal monstrosity with its head and forearms wrapped in sparking coils where the boney devils had been.
“WHAT. Is. THAT?” Cara gaped.
“What we didn’t want.”
Ermengarde and her fellow heroes squared up against the metallic fiend.
229 Great Guardian words
@davidaludwig.bsky.social
#ThursThreads Week 724 is now CLOSED. Thanks to everyone who wrote this week and I hope to catch you next week.