Week 365 of #ThursThreads had many fantastic tales. I’m honored to see all the writers come to tie a tale as we start our eighth year. If you’ve been doing it a while, thank you. If you’ve just found us, welcome! May you come back again and write more great flash. Thousand thanks to Keturah Lamb for judging this week. Check out the #ThursThreads #flashfiction group on Facebook or the #ThursThreads Group on MeWe to keep up with news, etc.
- Katheryn J. Avila | @katheryn_avila
- Joe Hesch | @JAHesch
- Mason Bushell | @MBWorkhouse
- Bill Engleson | @billmelaterplea
- Siobhan Muir | @SiobhanMuir
- Shirley Penick | @shirley_penick
- Kel J. Heinen | @Aightball
- Atticus Stryker | @TAFORU
- Catherine Derham | @Cate_Derham
- Cara Michaels | @caramichaels
- Nellie Batz | @solimond
- Mark A. Morris
- Jo Hawk | @JoHawktheWriter
- David A. Ludwig | @DavidALudwig
- Sheilagh Lee | @SweetSheil
- Daelyn Morgana | @DaelynMorgana
- M.T. Decker | @mishmhem
Atticus Stryker | @TAFORU
Keturah says: Beautifully written. Had a hard time deciding between this one and the first place. Love the title of the song … speaks volumes of heartache. Yet, that line, “Ya know lyrics are meant to be rewritten” seemed to clear of the clouds in Nashville and shine a bit of hope on the story. Well done!
Kel J. Heinen | @Aightball
Keturah says: Loved the line, “Human’s can’t fly. Can they?” And I was curious as to why the mother couldn’t see what her child saw. Curiosity is good for a tale!
Sheilagh Lee | @SweetSheil
Keturah says: I love anything anti-vax, or with government conspiracies, and such. But the real reason this tale is getting an honorable mention is for that last line, “I could tell you a few stories … but I won’t. I love my job.” What a way to punch your audience’s conscious. Good job.
Week 365 Winner
Keturah says: I loved the writing style and dialogue… it’s morbid and deep. The last line artfully closes the tales up, twisting the story and its meaning just a bit more, perfectly so.
He’s not too bad a guy. He has feelings as deep, sore and soaring as anyone else’s, I guess. Maybe even more so, we just don’t know. Few have ever seen them as he moved through the vacuum of his days.
I once caught him in one of his brooding moods, the ones maybe you’ve seen or you’ve felt. He broke through the 1,000-mile stare and wall of his self-imposed isolation to look up at me, half-grinned and raised his chin in greeting. He hummed his shrugged-shouldered humph when I inquired how he was.
“So how you doing?”
“I’m doing. Wondering if all this is worth it.”
“All what?” I asked.
“Just doing, being, thinking. You know, like that Descartes guy said, ‘I think, therefore I am.’ Maybe I should just stop thinking so much.”
“That’d be no fun.”
Then he surprised me with, “I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for? You haven’t done anything to me,” I said.
“I’m sorry because I’ve never expressed to anyone my regrets for my sins and omissions, never cried at their funerals, never spoke up about how I truly felt, never professed my love to those I should have and never moved on from the ones I shouldn’t,” he said.
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked.
“Because you’re the only one I can and that’s what I lament the most,” he said as we each turned away from the mirror and switched off our bathroom light.
Congratulations Three Time Winner Joe, and Honorable Mentions Atticus, Kel, and Sheilagh! Don’t forget to claim your badges and display them with pride. You certainly earned it!
Pass on the great news on Twitter, Facebook, MeWe, shiny mirrors, Morse Code, and signal flags. Check out all the original tales HERE. Thanks for stopping by and happy reading! 🙂