Week 471 of #ThursThreads had many fantastic tales. What an amazing feat we’ve pulled off. Nine years! If you’ve been doing it a while, thank you for coming back each week. If you’ve just found us, welcome! You’re in good company. May you come back again and write more great flash. A thousand thanks to Eric Martell for judging this week. Check out the #ThursThreads #flashfiction group on Facebook or the #ThursThreads Group on MeWe to keep up with news, etc.
- Siobhan Muir | @SiobhanMuir
- Mark A. Morris
- Silver James | @SilverJames_
- Bill Engleson | @billmelaterplea
- David A. Ludwig | @DavidALudwig
- Sheilagh Lee | @SweetSheil
- Kelly Heinen | @Aightball
- M.T. Decker | @mishmhem
Silver James | @SilverJames_
Eric says: Silver knows how to build a world in 250 words. Even though this story is part of a larger tale, you don’t need the rest of it to know something about these characters, their lives, and how they feel. Very nice work!
Week 471 Winner
Eric says: It’s hard to do that much worldbuilding in 250 words – you need to carefully choose words that say a lot. Mark did a great job of that. I could see the soldiers, I could see their enemies, I could see the scorched Earth. Excellent job.
The bells in every church tower across the country rang out, their peals ragged and lacking form. It was a final effort from the few of us who remained. A defiant gesture of resistance and courage.
“Don’t believe what the government tells you,” Manson said. The war isn’t over yet. It’s barely begun.” He polished his binoculars, an analogue pair that looked like a museum exhibit. They were bound with leather and had lenses made from glass, lacking the electronics of the surveillance devices we used before the world turned upside down.
“But we’ve beaten them. No one’s seen a mole-man for months. The only ones left are breaking rocks in prison camps. And even then, they’ve been de-clawed and neutered.”
Manson shook his head and came back from the window. The scars on his cheeks looked like farmland furrows, deep and irregular. It was unlikely that they’d heal; the velveteen scourge was riddled with diseases, the barbs they used to hook their prey equipped with venom sacs. A simple scratch would become a wound in under an hour, and if it wasn’t cauterised quickly, it would continue to spread. The slightest break in a victim’s skin could become fatal. It was this that been their deadliest weapon.
That and the fact they could appear from anywhere. The mountains had been the only places where we’d been safe.
“The rumblings in Osaka have begun again,” Manson said. “The seismographs are all wrong. They’re coming back to finish what they started.”
Congratulations TWENTY-THREE TIME WINNER Mark, and Honorable Mention Silver! Don’t forget to claim your badges and display them with pride. You certainly earned it!
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