Week 680 of #ThursThreads was a success, a remarkable feat for 13 solid years. Thank you to everyone who writes each week. You are why we’re still doing this. I’m truly grateful for all y’all!
If you’ve just found us, welcome to the crew! May you come back again and write more great flash. A thousand thanks to Jacob Summers 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:
- Joseph P. Garland
- Bill Engleson
- Sheilagh Lee
- Kelly Heinen
- Silver James
- K.R. Van Horn
- David A. Ludwig
- Siobhan Muir
Honorable Mention
Joseph P. Garland | Website
Jacob says: This had me hooked throughout the entire short story, and required such minimal detail to do so. Very well done!
winner announcement
Week 680 Winner
Jacob says: This is sweet, and sad, and a lot of emotional range poured into one short story, with a wildly interesting premise and a flair of the colorful.
– Brown, the Shadow –
Every night, while Harold snored, his shadow slipped off for a life of its own. This shadow’s name was Brown, not because he *was* brown (he wasn’t, he was shadow-colored, of course), but because he liked the sound.
Brown.
Downtown Shadow Brown.
While he was out and about, Brown bartended in moonlit cafés. He danced with lamplight girls and practiced forgiveness under park benches.
Then one dawn, when Brown crept home, Harold didn’t stir. His chest didn’t rise. His snores had gone somewhere else. Somewhere unreachable.
For the first time, Brown felt the terrible weight of being cast by no one.
So he drifted, half-formed, half-forgotten, until he stumbled into The Umbra Circle: a 12-Step Refuge for Shadows in Existential Recovery. Step One: Admit your light source is gone. Step Two: Believe in a new illumination. Step Three: Share your story.
There were shadows of all sorts. Silhouettes of long-lost lovers. The outline of a dog who’d forgotten fetch. They all listened. Nodded. Hummed sympathetic chiaroscuro.
Someone asked, “Have you something to add?”
“Only everything,” Brown said as he cried dusky tears.
Weeks passed. Brown learned to cast grayscale hand puppets against candlelight.
One night, during group reflection, he whispered, “Maybe I don’t need to belong to someone. Maybe I just catch the light wherever it falls.”
And for the first time since Harold’s last breath, Brown felt a warm glow on his back.
He didn’t look to see where it came from. He just basked.
~~~~~~~
Congratulations Thirteen Time Winner K.R., and Honorable Mention Joseph! 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! 🙂
