Thursday, June 6, 2013

#ThursThreads - The Challenge That Ties Tales Together - Week 73


Welcome back to the Weird, the Wild, & the Wicked and the second year of #ThursThreads flash fiction. So let's get started. It's Thursday again, and what should you be doing? Writing #FlashFiction, that's what! Welcome to Week 73 of #ThursThreads, the challenge that ties tales together. Need the rules? Read on!

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 as written 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 Plus

Our Judge for Week 73:

Purveyor of hot male photos, erotic romance author, and Miso soup lover, Laurie Roma.

So now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.

The Prompt:

“I will feast on your blood.”

All stories written herein are the property (both intellectual and physical) of the authors. Now, away with you, Flash Fiction Fanatics, and show us your #ThursThreads. Good luck! :)


  1. “There she is.” Ric’s familiar voice reached her through the haze of pain.

    He came!

    Her pulse accelerated as she strained to raise her head. The room spun.

    Ric rushed forward, sword drawn. “There’s nowhere to run, Ettin,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “Give me the girl or I’ll gut you where you stand.”

    Bald Wilbur waved the knife wildly in front of him. “If ja come near us, we kill the girl. How ‘bout them apples?” The giant beast sidled closer to Ana.

    Anger flared in Ric’s eyes. “I will feast on your blood!” He rushed forward, swinging his sword with all his strength. He caught Wilbur’s left shoulder, the blade cleaving flesh and bone like soft butter.

    Wilbur howled in pain, and swiped at Ric with the knife, missing completely. Baldy grabbed the torch from the wall and waved it back and forth in front of him, making Ric jump backward to avoid being singed.

    The foes circled each other, each looking for a weakness in his opponent.

    Ana tried to hold back the abyss, remain conscious, but her head lolled forward. Knotted, blood clumped hair blocked her view.

    Just keep breathing.

    The crashing of metal against metal reverberated through her skull, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t look up.

    “Ric! Look out!”

    She didn’t recognize the shouted voice, but the insistent tone made her skin tingle.

    232 WIP Words

  2. In the heat of the night


    The night was still.

    Moonlight filtered through net-curtained windows as he moved silently through the shadows of the house.

    He could smell his prey, feel its heartbeat; the air was thick with the intoxicating smell of pheromones, seemed to vibrate with each pulsation. It wouldn’t be long now, soon…soon he would be immersed in it; the taste, the warmth.

    As he neared the bed, the loud sound of the prey dragging breath through clogged nostrils reverberated around him, mingling with the sound of its heart to form sweet music; a song of yearning, of blood-lust, of promise.

    Impatient now, he leapt through the air, landing on his prey amidst the tangled forest of its course fur.

    “Tonight my friend, I will feast on your blood.”

    With that, he pushed his long, needle-like proboscis into the canine’s skin. It popped through the thin, hard surface of epidermis, releasing hot salty nectar which flowed into the insect’s stomach, swelling its abdomen as dopamine flooded its tiny brain.


    165 words

  3. It's hard to find good gods these days. They're all petty melodrama or fluffy kitten avatars, and occasionally both.

    Mittens, for instance, had latched tenaciously onto the flesh between my thumb and forefinger and was glowering balefully at me.

    "Exactly what are you supposed to be the embodiment of?"


    "For fuck's sake, don't talk with your mouth full." I shook my hand as Mittens let go and hovered, scowling and licking its lips.

    "I will feast on your blood, puny mortal."

    I scruffed Mittens and held it up in front of my face. "Who are you calling puny?"

    Undaunted, it licked its lips. "See? Totally feasting here."

    With an arc born from long practice, I flipped Mittens over my shoulder and out the kitchen window. Let it scrounge in the alley with the other wanna-bes; I had a date with an aspiring Venus to clean up for.


  4. It was the perfect night. The moon was full. The bats and owls had not come out yet, they would rest for another hour or more. The humans, on the other hand, came out in droves. They always did when there was a full moon.

    Some of them stared at the moon, stupid happy smiles on their faces. Some of them raised their binoculars to their faces, and looked in more detail. Some brought out there telescopes. Most just did human things. Like grilling burgers, or lounging on the front porch with the neighbors.

    I cruised through the air, searching for the perfect target. One that wouldn’t notice I was there. I’d seen too many of my comrades attack the skinny humans. The ones with sensitive skin. And get smushed. A single human could smush hundreds of us. They were deadly. But their blood was the best there was.

    I always looked for the cans of Off, the ThermaCells, the citronella lanterns. I was careful. I was cautious. I’d survived far longer than my comrades had.

    That’s when I saw him. Face down on a lawn chair, on a deck, by a swimming pool. There was a nice, cushy layer of fat all over him. He wouldn’t feel a thing. As I dove, I screamed my war cry. “I will feast on your blood, human!” I landed on all six legs, and sunk my proboscis deep into the skin on the back of his hand. I feasted well that night.

    250 words

  5. Friday, the night before Hallowe’en, I sat on a bar stool at closing time, sipping a much earned Bloody Mary and surveying my new nightclub, Nightfall. The place had been packed with costume dressed patrons and I had been on my feet all night making sure things ran smoothly. Everyone had gone now except for the lead singer of Nightwing and the bartender, my best friend Kayla. The band’s music was dark, broody and captivating and had drawn in many patrons.
    The lead singer Caleb hadn’t dressed for the occasion, his shtick was always to dress to appear as a vampire. His long black hair hanging to his shoulders and his piercing blue eyes seem to suck your gaze right in. His six pack abs with his open shirt made me staring longingly. Sitting down beside me he retorted “What’s a dame like you, doing in a place like this?”
    “Really Caleb that’s your line?”
    “No let me try again... I will feast on your blood.”
    “That’s better,” I giggled.
    “Shall we go now?” Caleb asked seductively.
    “Yes,” I answered, mesmerized, “Goodnight, Kayla.”
    “Goodnight Emma. I’ll lock-up,” Kayla offered.
    Stopping for a snack, we satiated our hunger on straggling patrons.
    “Your club is the best idea ever,” Caleb commented.
    “I told you I could find new blood.”
    “So you did Emma. Now let me feast on your blood.”
    We made patient love and went to ground. What can I say? Death became us.

    @Sweet Sheil
    243 words

  6. Mason raised his eyebrows and shot her a sly smile. “I’ve heard of this part of the exhibit. Shall we?”

    Stepping into the dimly lit room, Kate squinted until her vision became accustomed to the darkness. The only source of light were small spotlights showcasing each of the paintings as well as the title of the exhibit: The Art of Bondage. Swallowing hard, she approached the first picture. A woman with glossed lips surrounding a red ball gag in her mouth stared back. Her mascara smudged eyes reflected both fear and pride.

    “Is this what you do to women?” Kate whispered.

    "Sometimes. What do you see when you look at her?"

    "She's curious and scared." Kate cocked her head. "Yet she's confident and proud. Does that make sense?"

    "Perfect sense. What about this one?" Mason's fingertips trailed down her spine and rested at the small of her back as he guided her to the next picture.

    Kate's heart pounded in her chest as she scanned the painting. A man towered over a woman whose hands and feet were bound to each bedpost.

    "What is he thinking here?"

    Kate spotted the woman's crimson toenail polish and giggled. "He's saying: I will feast on your blood red painted toes."

    Mason snorted.

    "Come on, he has a foot fetish. Ya gotta lighten up now and then, Master Mason." She poked her elbow to his ribs before lacing her fingers with his. "Ooo, let's check out the spanking chair."

    250 "Yes! I used the word blood!" words

  7. “I will feast on your blood.”

    He straddled me, fangs bared, and dipped his head to my willing neck. As the points grazed my skin, I sucked in a breath, arching my back. He lightly nipped my neck, licking the area. I bit my lower lip, as he moved to kiss me, his fangs catching the light. His blue eyes bore into mine as our tongues danced. I grazed the tips of his fangs, his breath hot on my face. He sucked in a breath as I trailed kisses down the left side of his neck right to his sensitive spot; he howled when I sucked on the tender flesh.

    “Fuck me.”

    As his fangs once again brushed my neck, I stroked his erection. My eyes closed as he sucked my neck; the tips of his fangs were sharp, but drove me wild. He bit my neck as I stroked his erection faster and faster. His head fell back as he screamed, cumming into my hand.

    Without warning, he flipped me over, his fangs grazing the back of my neck as he grabbed the lube. He barely prepped me before he was inside me. I grasped the brass bedposts moving in time with his thrusts. When he hit my spot, I howled with pleasure. Finally, I collapsed on the bed, pulling him into my arms. Smiling and spent, my husband popped out the cheap plastic fangs and kissed me.

    “We should send the kids on overnight Halloween parties more often.”

    250 words

  8. Currency

    Amanda struggled up the rain soaked church steps. The night swallowed her cries of pain. The long slash on her thigh left a bloody trail. As she reached the top, step gooseflesh rose on her arms. Thunder crashed around her as she reached for the door handle. Too late.

    A strange force picked her up from the door and yanked her several feet in the air. Heart pounding Amanda screamed as the ground rose up.


    Amanda swam back to consciousness . The stench of sulfur filled her nose. She opened her eyes to find the demon smiling at her. Far too late for rescue.

    “You shouldn’t have run,” he said. His too wide grin revealed far too many teeth for Amanda’s comfort. “I suppose this is the part where I utter some vile threat? Something like “I will feast on your blood” or some other nonsense?”

    She dragged herself backward to the mansion door. Resting against the jamb, she faced the demon.

    “You don’t say anything,” she wheezed. “You just die.”

    A darker shadow attacked the demon. The door opened and a deep voice chanted the exorcism. A smoking hole in the granite marked the demon’s destruction.

    “Father Francis, I hate being bait,” Amanda said finally.

    “I hate working with vampires,” he replied.

    “I hate being currency, for them, too.”

    “No, you don’t. I’ll see you in the morning.”
    Father Francis turned away. Crouching over Amanda’s leg, a single vampire licked its lips.

    Smiling, Amanda shivered.

    248 words with title

  9. "What-What are you going to do with me?" Alyssa watched as Cassandra brought her face in close.
    She could feel the woman's hot breath. It made her shiver.
    "Tonight, my little lamb, I will feast on your blood."
    Cassandra pulled back and smiled a menacing smile, her perfect white fangs a sharp contrast to the blood-red of her lips.
    With one final look, she turned and began to walk away.
    Alyssa couldn't help but get the last word in edge-wise. "He's not going to let you, you know. James will stop you."
    Cassandra halted. Without turning her head she responded. "We shall see."

    103 words @bookwormattack

  10. Jaime put her ear to the ground and held her breath. She could hear nothing. After a few seconds of stillness, all she heard was the beating of her own heart in her ears.

    “I will feast on your blood.”

    Her eyes grew wide and she swung up and around to see who’d uttered the words. No one. It was the same voice as before, the same one as always. She wanted it to go away, for the threats to end, no matter what it took to bring it to quiet.

    “Who are you? What do you want from me?” she shouted. Her lungs grabbed breaths in short bursts. The air was thin up here, but this was where the old shaman said she’d find answers. No voice answered her shouts.

    The voice never answered her pleas for explanation, it only whispered desires and always when she was least prepared to defend herself – getting into the shower, or out, as she was almost asleep while lying in bed, right before waking when the shadows still veiled her conscious mind – always when she was most vulnerable.

    That’s why she’d climbed to this remote plateau at the foothill of a mountain sacred to her clan. Unarmed and unclothed, she was to lie there and wait in the shadow of the elder. The voice would come incarnate.

    This night she would give her blood willingly and the voice would finally cease.

    238 words, @madison_woods

  11. “No!” Bella came awake with a scream, her hands clawing blindly at the air above her. The dark shreds of her nightmare clung to the fringes of reality, twisting every familiar thing into something strange and dangerous. Goddamn it, she hated the dreams.

    She tossed aside the sweat drenched sheets and left her bed to stand out on the balcony. The night air dried her skin and the sky was full of stars, and she stared up at them, seeking peace. The dreams were starting to nibble away at the edges of her sanity. It had to stop.

    “Again, my love?” Toric’s arms circled her waist, drawing her back into the comfort of his arms. “We need to end this.”


    “I have been researching a few things, and I have an idea.” His lips brushed over her hair. “

    “Tell me,” Bella whispered.

    “Later, love. For now, come to bed and I will help you forget your nightmares.”

    It took days to prepare, days that grated across sleep deprived nerves and took her to the edge of her strength, but finally they were ready. When the connection snapped into place she poured all her rage and fury through it, sending it sizzling through the ether to the one who plagued her dreams. “If you come to me again, I will find you and I will feast on your blood and the blood of all you hold dear, mortal. This is your only warning. Leave. Me. Be.”

    247 words

  12. “I will feast on your blood. I am the vampire Marceau.”

    FBI Agent Sade Marquis stared. Lights strobed in time to throbbing music. Was he doing pelvic thrusts at her? Seriously? As the roving searchlight on-stage slashed across his face, he glittered. Glittered for chrissakes! Sade resisted the urge to pound her forehead on the nearest hard surface. Table top, she quickly amended as the dude stepped closer. He was definitely gyrating his hips a la Elvis and his hard-on was obvious in the tight pants glued to his skinny hips.

    “Is that a sock in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” Her mouth quirked and the beauty mark at its corner added punctuation.

    The man stopped as if he’d run into an invisible wall. Sade gazed past his shoulder.

    “Well, if it isn’t the ice queen herself,” the coalescing shadow drawled. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

    “You’re slipping, Sebastien.” She flicked her gaze toward the man held enthralled by the master vampire’s power. “Never figured you’d tolerate a poser.”

    Sebastien sniffed and offered a haughty glare. “How did you know?”

    “He glitters. I mean…really? Going for the teenage angst crowd now?”

    “You’re here, yes?”

    Sade laughed. Hard. “I have dead vampires. That’s the only reason I’m here. Did you declare open season?”

    The vampire’s fingertips traced the curve of her cheek. “Only on you.”

    Sebastien crumpled at her feet following a twist of the stake in Sade’s hand.

    “Wrong answer.”

    250 WIP words (I love a new twist...)


  13. A PLAN

    “Well my friend, you have two alternatives. Either you do as I ask or I will dissect you here and now to find what I need. And afterwards I will feast on your blood.”

    “You wouldn't. Even you are not that disgusting.”

    “Am I not? Five more seconds and you will see that I am. Now go get her please.”

    “But she's just a girl, and a fucking ballet dancer as well.”

    “A Ballerina. She'll be perfect.”

    “You sure this is going to work?”

    “Timing is everything. Follow her, keep her close.”

    “Well how long will it take you to get set up?”

    “I'll call you when he's open. You need that heart out and back pronto. Don't forget the ice and for fucks sake wear those medical gloves.”

    “I really can't believe you are gonna let me kill that girl for an organ to save his life. You hate him.”

    “Indeed I do. But I have a plan and he's no use to me fucking dead.”

    180 words

  14. Yeah, if you hurt any of them, you sick fucks, we’ll cut your chests open and I will feast on your blood.

    Retro gritted his teeth and used the rage to fuel his energy, settling down into cold, calculating calm. He looked forward to offering a “measured response” to the terrorists who’d taken their women. Mess with the best, die with the rest.

    “Drop two minutes out.”

    Retro rechecked his equipment, rolled his head his shoulders, and settled into his hunting mode. I’m coming for you motherfuckers. He glanced up at Magic and the other SEAL nodded as the buzzer sounded. The doors flew open and they hurled themselves out into the rainy afternoon murk.

    Retro hit the water and concentrated on moving away from the chop generated by the helo. The sounds of two other bodies submerging behind him helped him focus. They had two klicks to cover in as little time as possible while Rimshot and Bronco settled on the high ground.

    Surfacing in silence, he scanned the faces of his team and motioned for them to precede him. Retro brought up the rear, submerging with the others to make the swim down the reservoir. Murky water made visibility tricky, but the current reduced the effort needed to cover ground.

    Two hundred yards from the concrete span of the dam, he resurfaced and settled with the team under cover of the shoreline foliage. The others kept watch while Retro pressed the radio against his larynx.

    “Rimshot, you copy?”

    250 ineligible #WIP500 words

  15. Precautions

    “You should not go. Silas is not to be trusted.” Despite her assertions, Mary continued to present Malcolm with sartorial suggestions.

    “I’m well aware.” He shook his head. “Not blue. Silas hates it.”

    “And you, but that seems to matter not.”

    “On my honor, I accepted his invitation. I will feast.”

    “On your blood, so might he.” She helped him shrug into a coat of deepest green.

    “I go well protected. You’ve seen to that with charms and incantations.”

    “You’d be better served if you believed in the old gods.”

    He draped a thick gold chain around his neck. “I’d be best served if you believed me capable of handling myself against enemies.”

    “Caution is not lack of faith.”

    He kissed her cheek. “I swear to be on my best behavior, and if your rotten brother does not keep true the forms of host and guest, I will slide a sword through his guts and secure the future of your yet to be conceived sons.”

    “What a lovely image. Do try not to mention my name. He has not forgiven me for defecting.”

    “And you have not told me why you did.”

    “In good time, my lord. Go, the hour grows late.”

    The retreat of hooves played a merry cadence for the ritual to ensure only one man left the dinner alive. ‘Twas unfortunate she could not specify which one, but with her most recent missive to Silas, she’d guaranteed herself a privileged place regardless of the outcome.

    249 words

  16. Here's my just for fun #ThursThread (substituting "boobs" for "blood"):

    Rachel nursed an extra dirty martini while Jennifer gulped her second margarita.

    "Pace yourself, Jen, we have all weekend. Here, drink this, you're not used to the desert air. I'm not about to carry your dehydrated self around all night." Sliding her water glass to her friend, Rachel leafed through the visitors guide to Las Vegas she picked up at the airport.

    "Here's the plan, we'll cab it to The Palms and hit Ghostbar. I hear Ryan Reynolds hangs out there, maybe we'll see him. Did you know there's an invisible floor on the terrace there?" Rachel pointed to the brochure.

    Rolling her eyes, Jennifer slurped the remaining margarita with her straw.

    "Then we can check out the fountains at The Bellagio. I hear they're breathtaking. And then we can hit Ice. The whole bar is made of ice. See?"

    Her friend held up her manicured hand as if she were stopping traffic. "Hold on. I didn't come all the way out here to look at some fancy fountain. I just downed two margaritas and I'm about to order a third. What I want to know is where's the nearest male stripper show so I can choose the lucky dude I will feast on. Your boobs look great, by the way." Jennifer signaled to the bartender.

    Rachel snorted. "We really should..." She glanced at her cleavage and shrugged. Not bad for thirty-nine. "What the hell, you only live once." She gulped her martini and raised her glass. "Another round!"

    250 ineligible but so fun to write because I'm visiting Las Vegas in two days and get to hang out with Siobhan words

  17. Caspar Rickets set off down over Rattleback Hill, following no more than two steps behind his uncle Bodey. Deever’s Hollow was their destination.

    Bodey spoke in a hush, “Late October woods sure are lonesome.

    Caspar shuddered, then his uncle added, “And pick your feet up boy. Ain’t no time to trip and tumble. You’d make a helluva racket—enough to wake the dead.”

    Caspar’s eyes refused to blink in the near-darkness where even moonlight worked hard to pry its way into the dank woods. The smell of decaying leaves, and shadows of twisted, rotting wood sent chills up and down his spine. “No gun, uncle Bodey?”

    “Gun ain’t no use for what curses this night.

    Deeper in the valley, a half mile south of Hook’s Bridge, something stopped Bodey in his tracks. “Hear that? Gawd above, I hear their voices everywhere.”

    Bodey was silhouetted by steel gray clouds, backlit by a full moon. Moss hung motionless, long and limp, like witch hair—dirty and unkempt.

    “N…n…no. I don’t h…hear nuthin. Whatdya hear?”

    Bodey’s voice was strange, even otherworldly when he said, “I will feast on your blood.”

    Caspar could barely breathe. “You really din’t bring no gun? Not even a little one?”

    In that undead voice, Bodey said, “If’n they come near, I’ll just swat them.”

    Caspar’s heart drummed. He could barely breathe. He managed to whine out, “Huh? Swat them?”

    The corners of Bodey’s lips turned up when he said, “Skeeters, Caspy. What didja think I was hearin’?

    249 words @teresa_cypher

  18. Matthew awoke, feeling groggy, as he tried to remember. The place was unfamiliar. Trying to rise from the bed, he realised he was strapped in.

    “I was beginning to think you were never going to awake,” a male voice said cheerily. “So what do you think?” The man flashed a smile bearing white fangs that were so shiny they looked like plastic.

    Matthew sighed heavily.

    “You’re not scared?” the man asked as he stooped over Matthew, reeking of stale alcohol and cheap aftershave.

    “Why would I be scared of you?” Matthew smiled, bearing his own fangs. “Now release me or I will feast on your blood before you can say vampire.”

    “I’m sorry vampire, but it is I who will be doing all the feasting. It takes more than filing down teeth to become a vampire. I want the real deal. I know you won’t do it willingly so I am going to take.” He held a long knife, examining it closely.

    “It won’t work,” Matthew said calmly.

    “You would say that!” With a swipe of the knife, a trail of rich vampire blood trickled from Mathew’s wrist into a goblet. “Cheers!”

    Just as quickly, Matthew broke free, one hand grasped around the man’s throat, his fangs nearing the man’s neck. The begging and the whimpering was ignored as Matthew plunged his fangs deep into the soft flesh and feasted well.

    231 words

  19. "Wow, either you're way overdressed for popcorn and DVDs on the couch or you've got a date."

    "I have a date. I mean it's not a date. It's a business meeting. Lauren wants to discuss her role in the company. We're meeting for drinks and dinner at 8."

    I knew what Nellie was thinking. She was always warning me about Lauren, that she was a bitch and so wrong for me. Well yeah I knew that, too, but this was business.

    "Don't worry Nellie, I won't let my guard down. Lauren's so not my type anyway."

    Nellie gave me her skeptical look. "I'm just saying, you're my BFF, Riley, and I don't want you to get hurt again."

    "Thanks, Nell. I can take care of myself."

    Lauren was at the bar when I got to the restaurant and she looked hot. Why did I agree to this?!

    "Hey, Riley! Wow, you look hot."

    Oh nice, she's not even subtle. Why don't you just come and say, 'I will feast on your blood'? I knew what she was thinking.

    "What are you drinking, Lauren? Bloody Mary?" I couldn't help myself, but regretted it as soon as the words left my lips.

    "Vampires are the best lovers, Riles. Why don't you give me a try?"

    " we were discussing business."

    "Yes, of course," Lauren said, but her green eyes searching mine as she grazed my neck with her lips, told me otherwise.

    250 words

  20. “I swear to god, if you ever use a line like this on me, I will punch you in the face.” Melissa looked over her shoulder at the man currently bent over and peering into the fridge with a perplexed expression on his face.

    “Which one is that? The bad pick up lines you warned me about?”

    “No, the ‘I will feast on your blood’ one.” She gave a snort.

    There was a pause before he looked up and gazed at her with pale grey eyes. “Where in the hell did you hear that?”

    “This book.” Said book was tossed and thumped against the wall before flopping to the floor like guppy out of water. “So lame. I don’t even think I can finish the story.”

    One pale brow quirked up. “Why are you reading it then?”

    “Because it’s one of my favorite authors. I just hope she isn’t losing her touch because I will be disappointed.”

    “Uh-huh.” He walked over, picking up the book and flipping through it. “If you like her so much, I’ll give it a go.”

    Melissa blinked. “Are you serious? You don’t like fluff books, Bran.”

    “Hey, if it gives us classy lines like the one you quoted, who knows.” Bran smirked at her before flopping into a chair and looking at the back. “Let’s see how these vampires compare to the real thing.”

    Melissa smirked. “Don’t blame me if you feel like you wasted your time.”

    242 words

  21. #ThursThreads is now CLOSED. Thank you to everyone who wrote this week - we had a great turnout! I hope to see you all next week. :)


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