Week 640 of #ThursThreads was a success, and y’all never disappoint. Thank you to everyone who writes each week. You are why we’re still doing this, and why we’ve made it 12 YEARS!
If you’ve just found us, welcome to the crew! May you come back again and write more great flash. A thousand thanks to Eric Martell for judging this week. Follow Siobhan Muir on Bluesky or check out the #ThursThreads #flashfiction group on Facebook or the #ThursThreads Group on MeWe to keep up with news, etc.
Entries:
- K.R. Van Horn
- Siobhan Muir
- Bill Engleson
- Kelly Heinen
- Joe Hesch
- Silver James
- Sandra L. Penrod
- Mark Ethridge
- David A. Ludwig
Honorable Mentions
Sandra L. Penrod | Website
Eric says: It’s coming from the first word, that ending, being locked in, but there’s also just enough hope that maybe our fears are just that. Click. Nope.
Mark Ethridge | Website
Eric says: I don’t always come here for life advice, but when I do, it’s always worth it. Mark knows of what he speaks, and he uses his words well to give us hope in a time when so many need it.
winner announcement
Week 640 Winner
Eric says: You can see that table, that roast, that family, that empty chair, can’t you? You can feel the need to believe that everything is okay even when you know it’s broken, right? The undercurrent of all that has gone before that makes a family a family. Bon Appetit.
**To Family**
The table was set with the good china, the kind they only brought out for holidays and funerals. The roast sat untouched, steam curling upward like it was trying to escape. Forks clinked against plates.
Their mother smiled faintly at the head of the table, her skin paper-thin. She raised her wine glass. “To family,” she said, her voice a whisper.
“To family,” they echoed, avoiding each others’ eyes.
The youngest brother sipped his wine. “It’s good you came, Jay,” he said. “We’re all glad you’re here.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes.
The middle brother said nothing. He never did.
Jay shifted in his seat, glancing at their mother, then at the empty chair where Dad used to sit. “Yeah,” he said.
The room felt small. The air was heavy. Jay reached for his glass. His hand shook—only a little, but his brothers noticed. They always noticed.
Mom didn’t notice, or maybe she pretended not to. She was good at pretending. She just looked at Jay, like mothers do, and smiled.
Her little boy, still worth saving.
Jay stood, his chair scraping against the floor. “I need some air,” he muttered, already heading for the door.
Nobody stopped him.
Outside, snow fell in quiet sheets. Jay lit a cigarette and breathed in the smoke. His hands stopped shaking. The world softened.
He looked back through the window, where his family sat, stiff and silent.
He thought about going back in.
Instead, he stood there, watching the snow bury everything.
~~~~~~~
Congratulations Winner K.R., and Honorable Mentions Sandra and Mark! Don’t forget to claim your badges and display them with pride. You certainly earned it!
Pass on the great news on Facebook, MeWe, Bluesky, Mastodon, shiny mirrors, Morse Code, and signal flags. Check out all the original tales HERE. Thanks for stopping by and happy reading! 🙂
