Thursday, January 5, 2012

#ThursThreads - The Challenge that Ties Tales Together - Week Four

Welcome to Week Four of #ThursThreads!

It's Thursday, so what should you be doing? Writing #FlashFiction, that's what! And I've got the challenge for you. This is the first Thursday of 2012 and the new year has charged off to a great start. My big news? Evernight Publishing has picked up my novella, Her Devoted Vampire, and it has a tentative release date of March 2012. I'm so excited I can barely sit still to write up this blog post!

Ahem, so back to the challenge. :D

Here's how it works:
  • The prompt is a line from the previous week's winning tale.
  • The prompt can appear ANYWHERE in your story and is included in your word count.
Rules to the Game:
  • This is a Flash Fiction challenge, which means your story must be a minimum of 100 words, maximum of 250.
  • Incorporate the prompt anywhere into your story (included in your word count).
  • Post your story in the comments section of this post
  • Include your word count (or be excluded from judging)
  • Include your Twitter handle or email (so we know how to find you)
  • The challenge is open 7 AM to 7 PM Pacific Time
  • The winner will be announced on Friday, depending on how early the judge gets up. ;)
How it benefits you:
  • You get a nifty cool badge to display on your blog or site (because we're all about promotion - you know you are!)
  • You get instant recognition of your writing prowess on this blog!
  • Your writing colleagues shall announce and proclaim your greatness on Facebook, Twitter, and Google + 

Our Judge for Week Four:

The bold, beautiful, brilliant, baseball bard with the million-watt smile, Morgan Kearns.

And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.

The Prompt:

"His name was Milo Scaggins."

Away with you, Flash Fiction Fanatics, and show us your #ThursThread. Good luck! :)


  1. “Did you see an impish, long-haired man come through here?”

    The woman at the counter looked up, alarmed, and saw the huge man rush into the store , a badge hanging on a chain around his neck.

    “Uhh, yes. He went into the bathroom.”

    The beefy brute nodded and began to walk past her counter, a look of hard determination on his scruffy face.

    “Wait, you can’t go back there. The bathrooms are for paying customers only.”

    The man stopped, scoffed, and said, “I’m a fugitive recovery agent, ma’am. A bounty hunter. That man is a fugitive.”

    “I don’t care. He bought a candy bar, and you need to as well to go back there unless you have a warrant authorizing you.”

    “Ma’am, that man, Joe Francotti, robbed three banks. He posted bail and then skipped town. He’s dangerous. I need to get back there. Now!”

    “Sir, you have the wrong person, then. His name was Milo Scaggins. I have his credit card receipt right here.”

    He grunted, grabbed the receipt and read it quickly, then angrily rushed past her and ripped open the restroom door just as the startled impish man was exiting. The man was clearly not Francotti, and storming out, the bounty hunter admonished, “Thanks for wasting my time, lady!”

    The woman watched him storm out, Milo following, then motioned below the counter. Francotti stood up, brushed off his clothes, and kissed her. “Thanks, babe. I’ll send you some money as soon as I get to Mexico.”

    250 words

  2. The bar was almost dark enough to hide the newcomer’s limp, but my seismic sensors picked up the asymmetry easily enough. He didn’t stumble like a drunk or Whackjob. I didn't let on that I'd twigged to the new presence. His.

    Name was Milo Scaggins, and he'd been one of Moixa's runners two decades back. Looked like he'd been doing a lot of running, and a lot more falling, since. Pretty common occurrence for this crowd. Not too many guard rails in this neighborhood, in any sense of the word.

    He stopped at the bar next to me. "Fuck you, Jack," he muttered under his breath, carrying the common but repugnant reek of Deck and cheap krill.

    "It's a bad idea." Both fucking me, and whatever he had in mind were.

    "Of course it's a bad idea. That's why I need to talk to Moxie." He turned to scan the bar, too proud to ask me to give him coordinates.

    I'd liked Milo, after a fashion. Re reminded me of me, way back when, just made out of meat.

    I beamed another drink order to Dewey and kicked my scanners up another log level to watch the show.

    198 words

  3. As she peered through the dense woods, Mia wondered if she would ever find her way home again. She had been gone for over a year, and had been trying to find her way back for the last six months.
    Mia had grown up in a peaceful village. Small and humble, but rich with love and good will. As she was growing up, Mia dreamed of a bigger better place, as most young sprites do. On the eve of her sixteenth birthday, she happened upon a wanderer, who was in her village peddling herbs and other magical merchandise, and he offered to make all of her wishes come true.
    So eager to believe that she could leave and find happiness elsewhere, she left with him that night and didn’t look back.
    Until the truth came out and she learned that the wanderer meant to pander her to a noble landowner some fifty leagues to the north. She had managed to escape, but her innocence was lost that day, and she would never forget the man who took it… His name was Milo Scaggins.
    Since that day, she had been scouring the forest, fending for herself, and hoping she will be forgiven when she was once again safe in the bosom of her family.
    As she broke through into a clearing, she say the faint outline of rooftops in the distance and new that finally, she had returned to the place that she belonged.

    243 words

  4. The intersection was busy. Cars zooming by, hooting at the barely dressed man in the centre.

    Sam watched from her corner flower shop. The man came close to getting himself killed a few times. Sam couldn't watch, shutting the shop she rushed over, just avoiding from getting run over herself.

    "Come on!" she said tugging on him.

    He snatched away his arm and shook his head.

    She wasn't taking no for an answer and grabbed him by the collar and dragged him to the curb, giving the middle finger to hooting cars as she pulled him.

    Twirling him around she shouted at him. "What is your problem?"

    He collapsed into her arms, his front covered in blood. A name badge glinted in the afternoon sun. A passer by came up.

    "Who was he?"

    "His name was Milo Scaggins."

    Word Count: 138

  5. From WIP "Two women"

    "Can you repeat that?" Margot asked.

    "His name was Milo Scaggins," Carrie said.

    "Let me guess, he had hairy feet and was about three feet six." Luke couldn't stop laughing long enough to finish his drink.

    "Yes, it's all very funny. He was actually very nice."

    "Sounds like you went on a date to the library," Margot said.

    Carrie fired a glance at Margot then grinned as she looked back at Luke. "He was also very attractive, doable as the Gammas would say."

    Darkness fell over Luke's face as he sobered. "Well alright then. I'm happy that you found someone."

    "I didn't say we were going to keep dating, I was just making an observation."

    "I don't know," Margot said. "Sounds like you're pretty into him. What does he like to do?"

    "Well," Carrie said, "he …"

    "I know, I know," Luke cut it. "He plays dungeons and dragons and watches anime."

    Carrie smiled. "No honey, you are the only one that nerdy, he works out and does competitive salsa dancing."

    "Scaggins doesn't really sound like a Latin name." Margot sounded distracted but she was watching Luke.

    Luke cross his arms, slouched into his chair and shrugged, "Whatever floats your boat."

    "It sounds to me like you are still jealous," Carrie said.

    "He is Carrie."

    "I am not!"

    "You want to have your cake and eat it too, don't you?"

    "The question is what can we do about it." Margot grinned like the Cheshire cat.

    Carrie raised her eyebrow. "We?"

    250 words

  6. Title: Out of the Shire

    “His name was what?” the cop asked as he took notes in his notepad.

    “The old man said his name was Milo Scaggins,” the woman repeated

    “Bilbo Baggins?”

    She shook her head and huffed. “No, Milo Scaggins. Milo. Scaggins.”

    The cop scribbled in his notepad again, paused, and read over what he wrote. He tapped his pen against the open page.

    “What did he say to you?”

    “He asked me if I wanted an apple.”

    “An apple?”

    “Yes, then he yelled ‘Opa,’ laughed, and ran off the ledge there.

    The cop shook his head and flipped his notepad closed. Other officers were walking around the scene, taking pictures and measurements of some of the evidence. A coroner knelt over the body of the dead man.

    “Thank you, ma’am. We will contact you if we need any further information.”

    The woman nodded, relief evident on her face, and rushed off down the street.

    “Hey Sauron, find out anything interesting?” one of the officers asked as he walked over with a smirk on his face.

    “Not really, just another crazy old man.”

    “Well, I found this on him. What do you think?” The officer held out his hand, revealing a gold ring.

    Sauron’s eyes lit up and his lip curled as he plucked the ring from the other man’s hand. “I think this is an important piece of evidence, Theo. I will make sure it gets where it needs to go.”

    239 Words

  7. His name was Milo Scaggins, an enigma, a spook in the night. His name might be on people’s lips but no one knew what he looked like; when he came, destruction ensued and justice prevailed. The wicked were vanquished. He however wished that he could be normal, like everyone else going through life in denial, but that was not to be. Now Milo was an avenging angel killing those who were like the creature who killed his wife. The undead that killed with no warning no remorse were his target now. He grew weary and lay down to sleep in the daylight hour.
    “Petra?” he asked half-asleep assuming this was awaking dream.
    “Yes that’s it sleep Milo.” she commanded.
    Milo awoke some time later ravenously hungry. Leaving his hideout he saw a woman standing in the shadows. A hooker likely he thought but as he grew closer he smelt something rich and tasty. Before he even knew what he was doing he had reached for her and drank deep of her blood, draining her. A woman stepped out of the shadows
    “Welcome my avenging angel, you’re one of us now.” Petra his dead wife said with a smile.
    199 words

  8. A Long Day Ahead

    The first thing I noticed when I got there was the smell. Dead bodies, even freshly-dead ones, have a distinctive odor that can't be described only experienced. The second thing I noticed was this particular dead body had not gotten that way gently. In short, he was a mess.

    The walls were splattered with blood, and sundry internal pieces-parts too badly degraded to conclusively identify. The poor sod had been torn literally limb from limb.

    A quick inventory on my part noted there didn't quite seem to be the requisite number of parts present as usually constituted a body. To whit, the guy was missing two limbs or so ...well, and a head. The majority of corpses, in my experience, DID have a head.

    The M.E. glanced up as my shadow fell across him.

    "'s you. Uhh..His name was Milo Scaggins. White male, 34 years of age, six feet tall, 200 pounds. He was an organ donor."

    I quirked an eyebrow, "Damn Denny. I know you're good, but how the hell did you get all of THAT from THIS??"

    "No mystery there. Found a wallet in what's left of his pants. And before you ask, no. We didn't find the rest of him...anywhere. Ask me for a cause of death and I WILL kick your ass or die trying."

    In lieu of a reply, I drained off the last of my coffee. I was going to need a refill. This was looking to be a VERY long day.

    250 words @klingorengi

  9. His name was Milo Scaggins. He was just minding his own business when a dragon appeared and tried to to have him for dinner. You didn't live in the Shadow Realm and not be prepared for the unexpected, so Milo pulled his sword from its sheeth and waved it at the beast.

    The dragon roared, sending flames towards Milo.

    Conceding that the dragon had the better tactical advantage, Milo decided to go with Plan B. Turn tail and run. What wasn't part of the plan was to find two children standing in his path. Milo nearly fell over the girl, falling backwards instead and landing on his rear. This turned out to be a good thing, since he avoided the flames that went shooting over his head.

    "Now that wasn't nice," the girl said, scolding the dragon. "I warned you what would happen if you didn't play nice."

    "Penelope," the boy said, "It isn't wise to threaten a dragon. Take us home now."

    Penelope, shook her head. "Things have just started to get fun."

    Behind Milo, the dragon roared again, this time without shooting any flames.

    "It's too late for sorry. You can't just go around trying to barbeque rabbits, even ones with swords."

    Lifting a gem to her lips, Penelope whispered, "Butterfly."

    To Milo's astonishment, the dragon shimmered and began to change shape. When the transformation was complete, Milo laughed taunting the diminished creature. "Who has the better tactical position now?"

    The butterfly responded by spitting a fireball and singeing Milo's ears.

  10. The smoke cleared, revealing the devastation. Tall brick buildings that once towered over the city were in ruins. Emily put her sword back into her scabbard and turned to look for her companion. He was nowhere to be seen. Yelling coming from a block away caught her attention. She sprinted toward the commotion.

    She bent over with her hands on her knees, panting to catch her breath. “What’s going on?” she asked a warrior who was trying to move the gathering crowd back.

    “Someone got toasted by the dragon,” he said, never making eye contact with her.

    As she ducked under his arm, she saw a pile of smoking ashes. A warrior stepped up beside her.

    “You know who the poor sucker was?” he asked.

    Emily’s eyes caught a glimmering speck partially covered by the ashes. She backed away, shaking her head.

    “His name was Milo Scaggins. He was my partner.”

    151 Words

  11. wow! I completely spaced on what contest this is and forgot the word limit. Please delete my earlier entry and I'll resubmit. That one needs some work anyway.

    redshirt6 aka Robby Hilliard

  12. The website jumped off the screen. Patrice bolted out of the house for her car, every nerve in her being screaming for her to stop, but she was doing her damnedest to ignore them.

    The night pressed in around her car as it sped along the mountain road and the headlights barely made a dent in the blackness. It was as if the night was a sponge and light was sucked up into it, never to be seen again.

    The face on the computer screen had been real enough, though she knew in her mind it could not be. She had made sure of it. That bastard had long been erased from her life and there was no way it could be him. Still. She had to be sure. She hadn't been there since that day, and her reality was teetering on the verge of collapse. This was her saving grace. She started to sob.

    "It's not him. Hold it together, Patrice! It can't be him!"

    She skidded to a stop at the lonely old church and ran to the cemetery with it's ancient tombstones sitting canted along side the more modern ones. She fell to her knees in front of the familiar slab and shown the flashlight on the stone's surface. His name was Milo Scaggins and he was dead.

    "Hello, Patrice," the voice came from the gloom, and as she screamed, the gun held in his hand went off.

    "How?" escaped her lips before it all went black.

    250 words

  13. “His name was Milo Scaggins.” Staff Sergeant Circe Bryant reported, watching the ferrier drive away.

    “Are you kidding me?” Capt. Stephen “Mack” McMacken raised an eyebrow.

    “Nope. That’s the name he gave me in the interview.”

    “Milo Scaggins. Like a play on ‘Bilbo Baggins’? Who would do that to their kid?” Mack shook his head. “Did he say anything useful?”

    “Only that she ripped Killian right out of his hands and rode off in a “big damn hurry”; his words.”

    “Did he say which direction?”

    Mack checked his weapons for the third time in as many minutes. He hated waiting. Where was Tillman with the kerosene lanterns? All their high tech gadgets started going haywire each time they got close to the southwest corner of the estate, but he needed some sort of way of seeing in the dark that didn’t involve batteries.

    “Your favorite. Southwest.”

    “Shit.” Mack shook his head. “Was the horse newly shod?”

    Bryant nodded. “Why?”

    “The tracks will be deeper and sharper. When horse shoes are new, they make clear depressions, especially if they have cleats.”

    “Horse shoes have cleats? Why?”

    “Back in the day, it allowed carriage horses to have purchase, especially on icy cobblestone streets. Nowadays, they do it for polo ponies and tourist carriage horses.” Mack grunted when Tillman brought the lanterns. “Where’s the rest?”

    “They could only find three,” Tillman reported as he handed one lantern to Bryant.

    “What, you couldn’t run to Wal-Mart?” Circe quipped.

    “Dammit! We will need a DeWalt!”

    250 words of ineligible #WIP500 goodness ;)

  14. Music thumped, people grinding, sweat glistening on their bodies.
    She was searching for him, a man named Milo Scaggins. His body would be hard, defined. His eyes smoldering with desire, a knowing smirk would grace his face.
    She had to resist him, not allow herself to get caught up in his world again. She needed to tell him, to be honest with him.
    Strong hands slid to her waist and down her hips. Hot breath against her neck, nibbles on her ears.
    Her hands clung to his, her body arching into his.
    She had to regain control. She turned around. Her eyes filling with need as she saw the ocean blue in his.
    He puts his finger to her lips, urging her not to talk before he kissed her.
    Her body clung to his, as her soul melted with his kiss.
    She pushed away, shaking her head. “No. We can’t. Not again.”
    “Darling, why?”
    She lifted her left hand, the engagement ring catching the colored lights from the DJ-Booth. “This weekend, I’ll walk down the aisle and become his wife. I wanted to tell you in person.”
    “No, you wanted me one last time.” He smirked, leaning in to kiss her once more.
    He could make her lose control, lose everything. “No Milo, I refuse to do this anymore. We’re through. I’m tired of games, sick of the chase. He wants me, and only me.”
    His eyes clouded with sadness as she pulled away, vanishing into the crowd.

    248 Words

  15. “His name was Bilbo Baggins and he lived in Bag-End.” Bob shook his head. “I mean, his name was Milo Scaggins and he was the bag man. He bagged his stash in a hobbit hole with a Wizard.” Bob took another drink. “I mean, he stashed the bag in a rabbit hole by the river.”
    The slender man in a pinstriped suit adjusted his lapels and cracked his neck to one side and then the other. “Look, Bob. I don’t give a DAMN about no Bilbo Bag-End Wizard hole! I just need know where that money is. Now you can either tell me how to get there or I’m gonna take you with? Since were out in the woods, and the shovel in my trunk ain’t doin’ nothin’, I might have to make you do some diggin’. Got it?”
    Bob’s head nodded way too long - but he got it. “Okay, Brunno. The elven bard bid farewell while all the Drarves showed their muscles. I mean, Milo’s bag is in a big hole by the river down under the trestle.”
    “Alright, Smart Guy! You comin’ with me. You gonna show me this hole under the trestle. An’ you better hope it ain’t no big hole down by the river!”
    Bob nodded his head. “Okay! But I gotta take a leak first.”

    @acenance - 221 words
    (Sorry. I read the Hobbit last week)

  16. “His name was Milo Scaggins,” Sergeant Marcciano said.

    “Is that his real name or the name on his convention badge?” Detective Jones asked.

    “Same thing, according to his passport,” the Sergeant replied.

    “Passport? What is his country of origin?”


    “Where in England?”

    “Uh, it says, ‘near the Withywindle River’. Sir.”

    Kneeling down, the detective lifted one corner of the plastic covering the body.

    “Witnesses?” Detective Jones asked.

    “The hotel lobby was full of convention attendees and almost everyone saw him land, but not before.”

    “Can you tell what he is supposed to be dressed up as?”

    “Uh, well,” the Sergeant began, “I would say he was dressed up as a hobbit, Sir.”

    “’Would say’,” the Detective repeated. “You would say but you won’t say?”

    “Correct, Sir. He doesn’t appear to be wearing a costume.”

    Detective Jones looked back under the blanket. The pointed ears and the big, hairy feet seemed to suggest otherwise.

    “Apparently,” the Sergeant continued, “all of that is real.”

    The Detective looked again at the Sergeant and then looked away for a few seconds.

    “Probably cosmetic surgery,” he said. “Some of these fanatics will do anything to look like the characters from their fake worlds. Any personal effects?”

    “Backpack with a frying pan, a pot, a tea kettle, a dozen eggs, a small chicken, some herbs and spices, and some oat cakes wrapped in leaves.”

    The Detective looked at the Sergeant.

    “What does that sound like to you?”

    “Sounds like first breakfast,” the Sergeant replied. “Sir.”

    250 Words
    redshirt6 aka Robby Hilliard
    (much more appropriate than my first posting!)

  17. He walked in the night, down tree-lined streets. He did not look left or right, just straight ahead of him. He had a secret and soon enough the world would know it too. Right now he had to get to the train station. Finally, his plan was coming together. Finally, they would remember his name. He would show the nay-sayers, he would show them all.

    The plan was simple—world domination. Isn’t that what all mad scientists reach for? He had many opponents, the largest, himself, but at least he believed he would find the virus that would cause infinite destruction. However, Milo did not consider the consequences of the meaning.

    He stepped across the street to the train station. His feet felt heavy, his breathing labored. The toe of his shoe scrapped the side of the curb, bending his ankle backward. He did not stop to look; he had to make the next train. He limped to the door. The fingers that grasped the door handle did not appear to be his own. He pulled the door open; the hand remained on the door. The door lazily swung shut, pinning him between it and the threshold. The bones of his chest and back collapsed under the weight.

    “His name was Milo Scaggins,” the officer told the detective, pointing to the heap of sludge and clothing propping the door open.

    230 Words

  18. His name was Milo Scaggins, and he’d been my enemy from the womb.

    Our mothers were best friends. They used to joke that their babies were best friends because their bellies would jump as soon as they got close. Born on the same day, in the same hospital, our mothers used to dress us like twins.

    Fast forward to high school. Milo was captain of the football team while I was head cheerleader. Cliché, right? But we made sure it wasn’t going to work out that way. When I passed in the halls, he would sneer and slam his locker. I flipped my blonde hair over my shoulder and kept walking.

    It saddened our mothers that we couldn’t get alone. “Just try,” one would say. “Yes, do try harder,” the other would implore. But it wasn’t that simple and we both knew it.

    “You going to the dance this weekend?” Kerry asked, goading me after my recent breakup.

    I sniffed and looked down at my bland lunch. “No. Actually, I’m not.”

    The table stared at me for a moment and then erupted in talk of dresses and speculations. I tore apart my veggie burger while they talked. A gentle tap on the shoulder pulled me out of my daze. Milo was standing uncomfortably beside the table.

    “We should talk,” he said, holding dance tickets in his hand.

    And with those three words, we went from enemies to friends – and later, more. Apparently, it had been that simple after all.

    249 Words

  19. “His name was Milo Scraggins,” the black armored Night Captain nodded at the, now cold, mutilated source of the powerful scents in the alley.

    Fiona scowled, the little man hadn’t taken very good care of himself and even fresh his blood wouldn’t have smelled appetizing to her. Such a waste, why did the Council even let these insects live? Annoyingly impetuous, impossible to domesticate in the manner the other races could be, and on top of all that hardly enough blood in the entire body for even a single decent meal.

    The Night Captain cleared his throat, “We, think it might have been a werewolf.”

    “I know. That’s why you sent for a priestess,” Fiona sneered, baring her pearly fangs. Even dead the little man was ruining her mood.

    “My men stand ready to follow your orders; we just didn’t want to proceed without the Lord’s blessing.”

    “No need. It wasn’t a wolf,” Fiona shook her head.

    “Then what?” The Night Captain looked back at the grease spot littered with fleshy chunks.

    “Our Milo Scraggins was a demon summoner, one got out of his control,” Fiona smiled, “I dealt with it on my way here.”

    195 words

  20. Best Friends FOREVER

    “His name was Milo Scaggins,” said Milo Scaggins.
    “Milo, are you seriously going to start with that nonsense again?” Raphael huffed over his venti mocha-soy-latte.
    “I just… I want to hear it out loud how my story sounds. Ya’ know?” Milo stretched out his unnaturally long legs into the aisle of the coffee shop. His size-17 clod-hoppers disguised the cloven hooves underneath. He flicked a red-tinged fingernail at the barista and gave the young woman uterine cancer.
    “Who is going to write a story about the least evil Arch-Devil of all time?” Raphael waved his hand and healed the redhead in Milo’s gaze. “And you should really talk to your father about changing your name. I mean… bloody awful.”
    “He says it’s part of the ‘anger-building’ program. That’s why he’s always yelling at me too. Says I need to tap into my inner rage to really get EVIL. I think it just makes me more depressed, honestly.” Milo put two fingers together over his green tea and a fire magically started in the dumpster out back.
    “You know, for a Devil, you’re really not a bad guy. If I wasn’t assigned to you, I’d hang out with you anyway.” A tiny tear ran from Raphael’s left eye and it began to rain outside. A compliment from a real live Angel. His father would be pissed.
    “I’m evil Raph.”
    “Sure you are, tough guy. Sure you are.” Raphael winked.
    Milo smiled despite himself.

    249 words

  21. “Oh god, oh god. I’m so sorry, Luc.” Wren held herself as though the slightest movement would shatter her. “So much blood— Is he dead?”


    “Oh shit, I’m sorry.”

    “Don’t apologize.” I paced the room, fueled by adrenaline. Miloschi would be back soon enough. A dead host never kept him down for long. “You didn’t cause this.”

    “But I did.” Tears threatened as she touched bloody scratches and gashes on her arms and chest.

    I’d barely gotten to her in time.

    Sonuvabitch. How had Miloschi known where to find me? Or to get to me through Wren? The need to hold her, to promise I’d keep her safe warred with uncertainty.

    How safe could she be near a hunted man?

    “This isn’t your fault,” I insisted.

    “I didn’t run far enough,” she whispered. Her breath came in shuddering gasps. “I never thought he would find me here.”

    The meaning of her words sunk in, and I stopped moving.

    “Wait. You knew him?”

    “His name was Milo Scaggins. I did research for him. Totally obsessed with finding this Welsh trickster god, Gwyddien fab Dôn.”

    “Milo Scaggins?” I began. “Wren—”

    “Wanted to find the guy’s nephew. Like he’s just hanging around somewhere.”

    “LLeu Llaw Gyffes.”

    “That’s the one.” Her eyes widened. “Why do you know that?”

    “Cosmic irony.”

    “The nephew of a god?” The look she gave me said it all.

    I’d rescued her from a monster, but—maybe it took one to kill one.

    245 words

  22. “What happened here?” Fred looked down at the Technicolor pool that was sitting in the middle of his dinning room. The entire room smelt of burned marshmallows.

    “Fae. He was pissy because we didn’t want to go with him to magical land.” Jones snickered as the sweet smoke wafted around him. “Pretty awesome. Then he swore something about a curse on our line and did that when Marsh threw your ash tray at him.”

    The ashtray was busted on the floor, white papers and ash all over th carpet. Fred’s gaze went back to the puddle and then at his two ‘friends’. “Are you kidding me?”

    “No, dude. It was totally awesome. This stuff is some good shit.” Marsh leaned his head back. Both of the other guys were laughing at nothing to notice when Fred’s eyes turned blood red.

    He turned and went into the kitchen and came back with a heavy rolling pin. “His name was Milo Scaggins. And he was my damned boyfriend.” His teeth elongated and sharpened while his nose extended.

    The men were still laughing when he put them in the chest freezer.

    They would make a good meal with Milo reformed again. This was why he didn’t like to make friends.

    207 words


    Yeaaaah, I don't know what I was thinking. :0p

  23. .: His name was Milo Scaggins :.

    She spun around to see who slammed her door.
    “Jack! What are you doing?”
    “I’ve been trying to call you all day. I am tired of being ignored, Beth.”
    “Well, rest assured, your entrance was noticed by many.”
    She hated the lack of privacy that came with the so-called stylishly modern glass paneled offices. The slam itself was enough to turn heads, and the windows gave everyone a front row seat to the show.
    “Look,” he began. “What happened last night was a mistake.”
    “You embarrassed me in front of the Board of Directors, Jack. You knew damn well what you were doing.”
    “The guy was going to back out of the deal, Beth. I had to stop you before you claimed it was closed.”
    “Yeah, well – your timing sucked.”
    “I’m sorry. Really.”
    “Jack, the Board wants me to submit a report, explaining my full intentions. What the hell am I going to tell them?”
    “I don’t know, but we’ll think of something.”
    “You need to call your contact and get his ass here right now. I’m tired of him working in the shadows.”
    “I’m afraid I can’t do that, Beth.”
    “What?! What do you mean?! It’s his fault the deal didn’t close. Give me his name, I’ll find him.”
    “His name was Milo Scaggins.”
    “Milo was murdered.”
    “Seems we have opened a door that was meant to stay closed.”

    233 words

  24. Of seven men netted in the sting, the captain had been sure John Smith would break first. Husband, father, volleyball coach…he simply had the most to lose. They offered him a free pass in exchange for a name. Twelve hours later, he was the only one who hadn’t cracked. Some of the others begged, blubbered, gave up everyone they knew from their drug dealers to their grandmothers. This man, though, never flinched, never uttered a peep, just stared at the ceiling like he was watching a movie.

    From behind the two-way mirror, the captain gleaned what he needed to know. Mr. Smith knew who was bringing the girls in from Asia. He also knew this night would blow away like it never happened…all he had to do was keep his mouth shut.

    “The case is flimsy,” he told the bickering detectives behind him. Smith was in the wrong place at the wrong time, his lawyer would say. In fact, he already had. “We’ve got nothing on him.”

    Just as he was about to order Smith’s release, the door to the interrogation room opened. A district attorney in stilettos put her hands on the table and leaned into toward Mr. Smith. Tears dropped down both of the man’s cheeks.

    After a moment’s hesitation, Smith whispered. “His name is Milo Scaggins.”

    The DA snapped her eyes to the two-way mirror. Captain Scaggins tossed his coffee at the confused detectives. Then he pulled service pistol and shot both in the head.

  25. #ThursThreads is now CLOSED. Thank you to everyone who wrote. See you next week. :)

  26. His name was Milo Scaggins and it showed. What he wore could better be described as rags than clothing and his arms showed the unmistakable marks of years of heroin use. Just two days ago the telemarketer had received his company’s highest-sales award. Now he was running for his life.

    He had thought he was alone when he had started to shoot up, but a police officer had spotted him. Now that officer was chasing him and he needed to get away.

    Milo managed to leave the alley and into the parking lot. He could hear the officer’s shouts and footsteps coming after him.

    Where could he go from here? Fortunately, the officer’s car was at the other end of the parking lot and he was able to cross the small lot and get into the street. The cop’s partner had seen him escape and gunned the car’s engine. Without stopping to pick up the first cop, the driver sped into traffic toward Milo.

    Milo crossed the street, ran the other direction and darted down a side street. The black and white made a U-turn in the middle of an intersection starting to catch up.

    Milo found his house. His girlfriend was waiting for him, wondering what was wrong, but comforting him.

    In the alley behind the warehouse sat a man with the needle of his final dose still jutting from his arm and his eyes fixed in pinpoint pupils. His name was Milo Scaggins and it showed.

    249 Words

  27. Grrrrrrrrrrr.... Darned CAPTCHA! Almost made it.

  28. “So you won the Lottery?” Jax’s day couldn’t get any better.

    Lia wrung her hands, pacing her austere quarters. “No, I’m… already pregnant.”

    He was confused. The Cloister only allowed reproduction by Lottery. But she was pregnant. How? Something inside him began to tremble.

    “You’re sure?”

    “The doctor told me in strictest confidence, but medical records cannot be hidden for long.” Fear drove the words out in a rush. “What will They do to me?”

    Her terror tore at his heart. He cradled her in his arms, unable to voice what he knew – that they’d come for her, and rip the baby out. Maybe kill them both just to be sure.

    “Any chance it’s not my seed?” His throat tightened at the thought, though exclusivity was discouraged. Exclusivity bred attachment which led to the ultimate evil – Love. They were taught that Love started the Final War, making the Earth unlivable. So the Cloisters were built to make sure it never happened again.

    She shook her head in silence.

    “So it’s really…” Dare he say the word? “Mine?”

    “It’s yours.”

    He kissed her then, joy filling his whole body. His hand gravitated toward her still-flat abdomen seeking evidence of the miracle he had never dreamed possible, evidence of their love.

    “It’s time to go.” He grabbed a backpack from the closet.

    “Go? Go where?” She sobbed on the verge of hysterical. “There’s nothing beyond the Wall.”

    Jax smiled. He’d been Outside. He had only come back for her.

    247 words


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