Thursday, July 11, 2013

#ThursThreads - The Challenge That Ties Tales Together - Week 78


Welcome back to the Weird, the Wild, & the Wicked. Wow, where did half the year go? It's Thursday again, so what should you be doing? Writing #FlashFiction, that's what! Welcome to Week 78 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 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 78:

Mother, heart breaker and repairer, and romance author, SJ Maylee.

And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.

The Prompt:

“I’ll see you there, darling.”

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. “It’ll be perfect Della,” gushed Craig as he clasped Della’s hands, staring into her eyes that reminded him of dark pools of chocolate waiting to me devoured. Her gaze met his; his crystal blue eyes glinting like the sea on a hot summer’s day. She liked that. It was her favourite childhood memory; visiting the seaside with a bucket and spade, burying her father up to his neck in cold, wet sand before eating jam sandwiches that crunched with every sandy bite.

    Then one day, he was gone.
    Her mum had said he died.
    But in her teens, Della saw him with a new family and in that moment her trust splintered. . . . until Craig.
    She believed in him, so when he said it was ‘perfect’, it was.

    “Now are you ready?” Craig asked getting to his feet. He was so tall, masterful, and powerful. Della followed into a large hall where others sat; his followers eagerly waiting for him; their charismatic leader, promising Nirvana.

    She joined the circle, sitting cross legged; her eyes never once leaving Craig’s. Everyone else had a goblet and sipped. Craig handed her his goblet, folding her hands around it.

    “Della, one sip and your pain and suffering will cease.” He watched as Della raised the goblet to her pink lips and sipped; grimacing at the metallic taste. “Good girl.”
    “Nirvana,” she whispered, holding Craig’s hand.
    “I’ll see you there, darling.” He winked and sipped. . .
    Goblets clattered to the floor . . . followed by silence. . .



  2. “Damn you, Eros. Why don’t you know me?” The words spilled from me, things I wanted to say to him but didn’t. I had known him from the first moment. A love god walks into a bar… It sounded like the start of some awful joke.

    He’d left. Why should I remember him, ache for him, in a life eons later?

    “I always remember you.” And each life alone hollowed out my heart a bit more.

    “I loved you with everything and never loved again.” I eyed my reflection in the mirror. Haunted eyes stared back at me. “You emptied my soul.”

    But the echo of love lingered.

    “I hear you in there.” Dio appeared in the reflection, stunning in black tie. He stepped closer until his warm hands settled on my bare arms. “No whining tonight, darling.”

    My cheeks burned. “I’ve earned a pity party, Dio.”

    “Indeed you have, sweet girl.” He pressed a soft kiss against my temple. “And the time will come when he knows it. But first, we have a real party to attend.”

    “How could he forget me?”

    “With all things Olympus, there are forces at play behind the scenes. And… You look different.” I snorted and he grinned, checking his watch. “I have a quick appointment. There’s a car out front for you. I’ll see you there, darling?”

    “Yeah. I wouldn’t miss it.”

    “There’s my girl.” Dio’s lips curved into a knowing smile.

    What he knew, he didn’t share. Of course.

    “Brat,” I muttered.

    250 words

  3. Cool fingers grasped his chin and lifted his face as Aislynn met his gaze. “Neither of us understood what was happening at the time, Officer Wolffe. I bear you no ill will.” She released him and sat back. “But I won’t tolerate pity or moping. If you’d like to indulge, please take your time elsewhere.”

    Chayse blinked. Where had the sultry, seductive succubus gone? This sounded more like a werewolf alpha female. Despite her nakedness, Aislynn wore her authority like a coat of armor, impenetrable and durable.

    “Are you saying I should just get over it and let it go?”

    “Is that so difficult? You made a mistake and you’re sorry for it. Regret only hampers the joy of the present. The past cannot be changed, only learned from.” She picked up her mug and sipped her tea. “So you can wallow if you choose, but not here.”

    Where did this bitch get off? He’d come to apologize and she told him to move on. “Go to hell.”

    “I’ll see you there, darling.”

    Anger rose in his chest and he stood, his hands fisting at his sides. “Listen—”


    The snapped command did something odd inside him and he dropped to the seat like a well trained dog. What the— His throat went dry and his cock hardened as Aislynn swung her feet to bracket his knees.

    “Listen to me very closely, Officer Wolffe. You will let go of your regret and focus on the now. Do you understand?”

    250 ineligible #WIP500 words from Second Chance Succubus

  4. Marital Dissolution

    She sat on the couch, drenched in gore, calmly combing out the hair on his mistress’ severed head. Her eyes had a glassy, vacant look and she hummed tunelessly to herself. He considered it a tribute to his self-control he was able to close and lock the door behind him before confronting Charise.

    Twelve years of marriage had progressed from disinterest to discord, from dislike to disgust. Though Derek had tried to be discreet, his wife was, apparently, incapable of accepting their circumstances gracefully.

    His thoughts calmed as he realized the situation was anything but untenable. Stella had been an enjoyable diversion but hardly anything special. In reality, pretty young whores were a dime a dozen. On the plus side, Charise would be gone from his life once and for all without the economic misfortunes of divorce.

    He spoke in a low measured voice, “You know, they’ll put a needle in your arm for this you crazy, sadistic bitch. Not that I really much care anymore but I’m pretty sure there’s a cozy little corner of Hell just for women like you. Enjoy your new life there.”

    Charise sat the comb and her grisly trophy on the coffee table, reaching into the handbag at her feet. She withdrew, of all things, a hand grenade and pulled the pin with a wicked smile. Tossing it his way, she was delighted to see her husband instinctively catch it.

    “I believe Hell is also suitable for adulterers . I’ll see you there, darling.”

    250 words @klingorengi

  5. Arrogant man. Dragon. Whatever. Sade pivoted on her toes, prepared to storm away, only to come nose to chest with a rock-hard body—literally. Roman’s massive hands gripped her biceps to keep her from falling on her ass. Her very fine and not-for-arrogant-dragons ass, thank you very much.


    “Roman.” She looked up until her head cranked back on her neck. Roman was half a foot taller than the dragon and she could feel the animosity swirling between the two powerful beings. Note to self. Research gargoyle-dragon relations.

    “Constantine.” Roman acknowledged the dragon.

    “Montagne.” Nikos didn’t waver under the gargoyle’s regard.

    “You are a little out of your territory, Drakon.”

    Nikos chuckled and his eyes danced with merriment. “New Orleans is neutral territory, Sentinel.”

    Roman's gaze flicked to Sade before returning to clash with Nikos’s amusement. “But she is not.”

    “Argh!” Sade stepped aside. “I don’t have time for who’s the biggest dick. I have a couple of magick murders to solve. If you two want to whip ’em out, don’t let me stop you but I’ll be damned if I stand here and watch. Caleb!”

    The werewolf heeled, followed her around the corner then spoke. “Ah…Sade? It’s not smart to tease a dragon.”

    “No shit, Sherlock. What was your first clue?”

    “Uhm…when you said, In your dreams and he said I’ll see you there, darling?

    She shrugged. “So?”

    “Nikolas Constantine is a dreamwalker, Sade.”

    “Well…hell. That gives insomnia whole new meaning.”

    250 words that are a continuation of last week's thread, thank you very much! :D #WIP


  6. "I'll see you there, darling. I'm going straight from work. Wear the new blue suit. Pick a tie that matches." Her voice cold and hard before she hung up.

    Her mania for things that match.

    I stared out the window at the darkening sky and spotted a starling, hurtling upward, beyond a poplar. Then out of the frame of the window. I dropped the cell phone on the floor. It made a sharp sound on the hardwood that I liked. Perhaps I had cracked something.

    All the wine I would be expected to drink. All the smiles I would be obliged to return. All the hands I would have to shake. All the family stories I was sick of telling and hearing. At the base of it all, the ache of hypocrisy. Our little secrets. Her affair. My affair. Just so we could get through Christmas with her family.

    Family reunion or no family reunion, this marriage, I decided, was over tonight.

    All the papers signed. No kids to hurt. No secrets worth keeping.

    A text message flashed on the (apparently still functional) cell phone where it lay face-up on the bedroom floor. (White shirt. Cream tie. The wingtips.)

    I picked out a green-and-orange polka dot shirt and an ancient pair of mauve-checkered slacks.

    No tie.

    Black Crocs.

    No socks.

    I tried on the outfit and posed in it before the mirror. I looked outstanding.

    See you there, darling.

  7. A steady click on the marble floor echoed through the cavernous lobby. Hillary’s stilettos, while killing her toes, were necessary for Edward’s birthday surprise. As were the lace panties and bra she wore under her trench coat. Waving at the guard she slipped into the private elevator that whisked her to the top floor of the television network’s Wilshire Boulevard address. As the doors whooshed open, she took a deep breath as the scent of the studio’s offices coursed through her. It was the smell of cut-throat competition, elation and defeat. A scent she thrived on for almost a quarter of a century.

    Walking toward her husband’s office, she stopped at the cast photograph of Beverly Place. The placard listed the show’s illustrious accolades, including three time Golden Globe winner for best drama and best actress for her portrayal of Jessica James. Yes, the character of J.J. served her well for nine years and made her a household name.

    As she rounded the corner, a shrill voice rang out. “Don’t be late, Eddie.”

    I’ll see you there, darling,” her husband’s voice answered.

    Seconds later a young blonde strutted past her. Smoothing the wrinkles on her way too short skirt, she cocked an eyebrow in Hillary’s direction, smiling smugly.

    Hillary strode to the door and leaned against the jam. “I brought you a gift but it seems I was too late. Your birthday fuck just left, didn’t she, Eddie?” She emphasized the nickname he hated.

    Edward’s mouth fell open.

    249 WIP words

  8. “I’ll see you there, darling.” were the last words my Charlie said to me.
    Fifty years had passed since Charlie died. After a long career as a nurse and I raising our three children, I was blessed with grandchildren. My face had changed as wrinkles took over and gravity had changed my body. I’d then retired to the home Charlie and I had started our married life in. I had my children and my grandchildren’s visits, but I was lonely. I’d had years without someone to touch my hand and watch television with me. Years of silence as time passed with me alone and no one to turn out the lights take me in their arms and make passionate love to me. I know people say the longing and needing extinguishes as you get older, but my aching for Charlie did not go away.
    I lay in a hospital. I’ve said my goodbyes to my family and I feel my breath labouring and for a moment I’m afraid, but then I remember Charlie’s promise and I hear.
    “Charlie?” I ask afraid to believe what I heard and saw.
    “Yes Marguerite,” He says as he takes me in his arms and leads me to the light. We dance to ‘Till the end of time’. My Charlie waltzes me to the radiance I see. It surrounds us and encompasses us and I know now I’ll be never be alone. I’ll be with Charlie forever. He’d fulfilled his promise.
    247 words

  9. Diane signed the last of the paperwork, handing it to her lawyer. “That’s the last of it, Diane. You’re now free from him.”

    Free from him, her former husband. All the work, the years, the time, gone, burned to the ground. He’d started an affair with that 30-year-old whore, who was still young enough to be pretty, without the baggage of a family, or the age 27 years of marriage puts on you.

    Now, he had his whore. And she had a house full of memories to destroy. It would have been easy to sell the house, move somewhere and start over. But it was her house. She’d picked it. She’d picked the furniture, painted the walls, planted the flower beds, cooked in her kitchen, done the laundry in her utility room, and parked in her garage.

    She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing she couldn’t live in it any more.

    The first thing to do was get rid of the bed. The bed reminded her of the nights he’d slept with her. All the nights she’d let him explore her body. She called over her girlfriends. They helped her disassemble the thing, haul it downstairs, and out to the curb.

    Good riddance, she thought. She’d hated what he’d become. What he’d done to her. “I hope you burn in hell!” she’d screamed at him when she found out about the 30-year-old bitch.

    All he’d said in response was, “I’ll see you there, darling.”

    249 Words (Per MS Word 2010)

  10. #ThursThreads is now CLOSED. Thank you to everyone who wrote today and I hope to see you next week. :)


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