Week 645 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. 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:
- Bill Engleson
- Kelly Heinen
- Sheilagh Lee
- Silver James
- Siobhan Muir
- David A. Ludwig
- K.R. Van Horn
- Patty Dump
Honorable Mention
Silver James | Website
Siobhan says: What I liked about this tale was the conviction in the female MC. So often our world is male-centric, and I hope, as she ages and grows, that she’ll stick up for herself and find someone who values her for her, not just because she’s whatever he thinks she is. Great kick-ass heroine story.
winner announcement
Week 645 Winner
K.R. Van Horn
Siobhan says: A bittersweet tale, sorrowful but powerful in its sentiment.
𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘼𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙒𝙚 𝙒𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙎𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙚
Snow drifted down outside the window where we sat—delicate, fleeting. We said, “See you again soon.” But we both knew that wasn’t true. I watched you go, and as your shadow disappeared around the corner at the end of the street, I saw your scarf still draped over the back of the chair.
I picked it up and breathed you in. Your perfume, the winter air, something unmistakably you. I knew you wouldn’t turn back. And I knew I shouldn’t follow.
Couldn’t.
I knew your scent would fade eventually. And your smile would grow distant, like a voice in another room.
Time does that.
I took the long way home, my solitary footsteps etched in the snow. Couples passed by, arm in arm, and I remembered how you used to say snow felt like magic. I wonder if it’s snowing where you are now and if it still feels that way. Do you still tilt your head back and let the flakes melt on your cheeks?
When I entered the apartment—the apartment we’ll never share—I hung your scarf on the hook in the hall, and I heard you whisper, “Remember that when I’m gone, you’ll find me in the quiet spaces.”
“I know,” I whispered back.
I looked around and imagined our daughter—the one we always dreamed of but who will never be. She was dancing through the living room. Her laughter echoed in the empty space, and for a moment, I almost saw her.
~~~~~~~
Congratulations Three Time Winner K.R., and Honorable Mention Silver! 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! 🙂
