Thursday, September 5, 2013

#ThursThreads - The Challenge That Ties Tale Together - Week 86

Welcome back to the Weird, the Wild, & the Wicked. Is it fall yet? It's Thursday again, so what should you be doing? Writing #FlashFiction, that's what! Welcome to Week 86 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 86:

Willing slave to the voices, new dog owner, and gay erotic romance author, Sage Marlowe.

And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.
The Prompt:

“So you will resist.”

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. “I’m too awake. I can’t go back.”

    Penny shook her head, “But you have to. You can’t stay this way.” I heard her speak, but understood her to say, “You have to fit into society. Everyone has to fit in.” She didn’t have to speak for me to hear her say, “So you will resist. As you always have. And our society will beat you into your place.”

    I understood her perspective. To her, I’d lost everything. My career. My salary. The respect of those around me. The trust of everyone. To her, I’d crashed and burned. And then I’d stayed broken, staring at the ashes of the life I’d had. I knew that disturbed her.

    She gave me that pleading look that says, “Please, explain this to me! I want to understand.” I’d seen that look on her a thousand times. And any time I’d tried to explain, she always tried to convert me to her way of thinking, her view of the world.

    “I know.” I took her hand. “You believe I’m still angry about what happened.” I wished I could explain everything. I knew the words. I also knew she would not understand them. I could not return to the life I’d had. That artificial creation that made me normal. That made me fit in to our society.

    Penny withdrew her hand. I wished, as she walked away, she would wake up someday. My heart ached, for I knew she never would.

    245 Words

  2. “My friends are here.”

    I looked around, finding nothing but blackness. “ Uhm… can you see anything?”

    “Not really. Maybe a little better than you can, but they’re here. I feel them.”

    “Of course you do.”

    “They’re In the cage. Well, they will be. I feel their energy filling the space.” He pushed me back against the bars, his body pressed against mine.

    I froze, overwhelmed by his sudden proximity. His scent, like autumn leaves, teased my nose. I gripped the bars behind me. “You’re a bit close, don’t you think?”
    “We need to give them room to come through” His whisper caressed my cheek.

    I tried to breathe, relax my muscles, but failed miserably. Sure he felt my heart hammering in my chest, I waited for something to happen.

    Michael’s shape materialized before me, his tall form shadowed against the blue glow growing in the center of the cell. When the light had enlarged to fill the cell, the smoky images of two people came into focus.

    “Let’s go,” Michael whispered into my hair, sending a shiver through my limbs.

    I tore my gaze away from the eerie glow. “Are you crazy?”

    “So you will resist? To what end? You’re trapped in a cage. Besides, we don’t have time for this.” He grabbed my wrist, pulling me toward the shapes. “C’mon.”

    “Where are we going? I need to go home! My parents have probably called the National Guard by now.”

    “Mächenwood.” He said before jerking me into the blue field.

    250 WIP Words

  3. What Really Matters

    Mya's red rimmed, crystal blue eyes were no longer spilling tears. Quietly, she said, “So you will resist. Even now, after all this time.” She looked at Sam, and nodded. “Okay.”

    Those were the last words Mya had said to her before she jerked her keys and purse off the hall table, and walked out of Sam's apartment, not even bothering to slam the door. The soft click of the latch sliding into place a full moment after Mya left was somehow worse. Where a loud exit usually started a fight, this quiet departure signaled finality.

    Sam understood Mya's frustration. They had been lovers for three years now, and Sam still wasn't ready to come out. She felt sure her parents would hate her, she could just see her mother's tear stained face. “But I want grand babies,” Sam knew her mother would wail. As if being a lesbian would automatically mean she'd never have kids.

    What would her friends say? No one knew except Mya. Oh, God. What if Mya told someone? Sam's cool, amber gaze regarded her haggard reflection in the hall mirror. She flinched as if she'd been slapped.

    Wait a second. I just lost the first person I've ever truly loved because I'm worried what people will think of me? What difference does it make if I'm going to be miserable anyway? To hell with that.
    Sam grabbed her own keys, and ran out the door, hoping to catch Mya before she left the parking lot.

    250 Words

  4. The CDC called those like me a pandemic. The public called us vampires. For me, I hadn’t lost control in so long I’d almost forgotten to be afraid of what lived inside me. So as the ER moved through its nightly pace of stretchers, victims, and emergency personnel, I didn’t worry.

    I didn’t worry until a blown vein sprayed blood all over me. It spurted up my nose, in my mouth, and the thing inside me roared, twisting my features into something monstrous.

    Eat it. Drink it. Bathe in it. Mine, mine, mineminemine.

    I hid my face in my hands.

    They don’t know what you are. They don’t know how much you want to devour them all.

    Strong arms scooped me up. The smell of him mixed with the blood, some still-human piece of me recognizing him.


    “I’ve got you.”

    “There’s blood everywhere. Every breath is heat and iron. God, it’s so good. I need it.”

    “I know, baby. Just hold on to me. I’ll get you out of here.”

    I lifted my arms around his neck, burying my misshapen face against his neck where the scent of wolf lay strongest. The lycan didn’t draw me in like a human, but the thump of his pulse beneath my lips enthralled me.

    “You smell so, so—”

    “You will resist.” The wolf altered his voice, and Scythe’s body rippled. The change hovered close, the lycan ready to burst forth and answer the threat I posed. “Don’t make me kill you.”

    250 words

  5. George liked to play and read but he NEVER liked to go to bed!

    His parents had tried every trick in the book. They were at their wits end and were on the verge of separating. So little sleep with nerves as taut as violin strings. In their desperation they sought advice from a friend.

    Their friend, Jim, a psychiatrist by profession, leapt at the chance of a new case. He knew from his wife how tired George's parents were and both professional and friendship desire to help sprung him into action. He had George come stay with him and his wife.
    Several weeks later, After one stressful session, George gave a yawn and then a shudder before snapping into wide awake zone.

    "so you want to resist, do you want to stay awake forever?"
    "No I am very tired, Uncle Jim but every time I close my eyes I see horrible images happening to everyone I love, so I figured I'd stay awake so they don't hurt!"

    Jim sighed , angry with himself for not spotting his Anxiety disorder before, and hugged him.
    "come here comrade G, even sentry soldiers are allowed a rest break!" Jim slowly rocked George in his arms till he couldn't stay awake while he muttered the Auntie Sara, uncle Jim, mummy and day would still be here.
    It took a week of reducing G's anxiety. Reassured finally that each time he slept that his parents were fine, Jim took him home to the loving rejuvenated arms of his parents. A family reunited in love and hope.

    1. Approx 250 ... - (word count stopped counting half way through!)

      Charley_001 ... twitter

  6. “ It is not really your fault. It is like second nature to you.”

    She raised her eyebrow trying to convince me and herself that she had no idea what I was talking about.

    She wanted to play. I did not.

    “ Playing the victim. It is in your DNA. You were born with it.”

    “ My husband left me for another woman, who happens to be my sister, who happens to be you. I don't play the victim. I am the victim! ”

    “ You left your husband or pretended to anyyway. Over and over and over again. Finally he had enough. And he left you for real.”

    “For you!“

    “No. He wouldn't be with you even if I wasn't in the picture“

    “Sell that to someone who wants to buy it!“

    “ No longer feeling sorry for you. You know this. And so you will resist playing the victim from now on. Nothing for you to gain!“

    159 words

  7. The pure clash of steel dispersed into thin mountain air. Lowlanders called it The Thunder of Riversource. It was the echoing thunder of the elves training in their martial temples, whose walls have never yielded to any enemy. Few but the elves themselves had even seen the temple interiors.

    Prince Arlen watched the human training with elven templars. Arlen’s advisors had cautioned him against seeing the swordsman as human, but the prince felt an intuitive trust for this particular outsider. The dark stranger’s prowess was astounding, besting teams of knights ten times his age and experience.

    Stepping into the courtyard, Arlen drew his silvered great sword.

    “I would like a match with our guest.”

    Arlen’s templars stepped aside silently in spite of gleaming armor. In contrast, the human’s armor scraped indignantly from simply bowing to the prince.

    “My lord…”

    Arlen locked his sea blue eyes with his opponent’s paler icy irises. Their swords met.

    “Now that your men have recovered from their wounds, will you return to the war?”

    Three strikes. Three parries. The prince would lose this match on the twentieth exchange.

    “My wound cannot be healed. I fear its hunger.”

    Four strikes. Four parries. Thousands of years the elves had held the martial arts sacred, but never had Arlen encountered a blade master to rival the one before him now.

    “Your will is too strong to be ruled by hunger. So you will resist. The vampires will learn their error in attempting to remove you from the equation.”

    250 words

  8. Sweat trickled down my face, its saltiness an assault on my tongue. A shaking, bone-thin hand wiped the trickle away, my arm flopping back to my side. Pink, green, blue, azure, purple, they all swirled in front of my eyes. The sidewalk warped and danced. Then, finally, it opened, and he stood before me, red eyes blazing. I waited, trembling.

    “So, you will resist.”

    “No, my lord. No, I will not resist.”

    “Smart boy.”

    His staff, beset with a bulls head and horns, struck the side of my head. Stars swam but I held strong on trembling, impossibly thin knees. I bowed my head, as the sidewalk danced in a haze of purple and green. Finally, his hoofed feet moved. A long, blood red, jagged nail lifted my chin.

    “Come boy.”

    I stood with shaking legs and took a leathery, red-hot hand. He led me into the depths of hell. Fire nymphs danced in pink, green, azure, orange, purple. Heat attacked my face and naked body. But I felt no pain. I took his hand, we danced a waltz. His throne rose from the pits, the dead clinging to the golden throne. He swept his hand in a wide arch, pushing me into its soft, warm cushions.

    Cold hit my face and I blinked. Purple, blue, azure, green danced above me, fire nymphs smirking in time to music I could not hear. A leathery, red-hot hand reached for me. The nymphs moved in. I slept.

    245 words

  9. A knock at her suite door made Lindsey snap her phone shut and smooth down her dress. It’s the moment of truth. She strode to the door and pulled it open, trying not to show her disgust at the vision of John Andrews strapped to a board on a dolly. She covered it with a smile she could only hope was pleased.

    “Excellent, wheel him over to the bed.”

    The orderlies nodded as they delivered her package and she ignored the urge to pull out her weapon and shoot them both. Instead, she left the door open, an implicit request to leave. They hauled him up on the bed and rolled the dolly out into the living space.

    “I’ve made my choice to keep him. I’ll get a confirmation email, isn’t that so?”

    “You will.”

    Resisting the urge to untie John before they’d gone, Lindsey followed them out of the bedroom and picked up her purse. She pulled out two twenties and extended it to the taller orderly.

    “Thank you, ma’am. Much appreciated.”

    “No, thank you.”

    “We’ll be back in two hours to readminister his meds or take him back to the holding cells.”

    “Thank you. I’ll be ready.”

    The orderly nodded and the two men left, closing the door behind them. Lindsey turned the security lock and engaged the security bar then took a deep breath. If she had any say in the matter, neither she nor John would be here when they returned.

    245 ineligible #WIP500 words

  10. Mr Orpington resists


    Mr Orpington sat back in his chair, smiling at Mr Hinds; the gorilla-like Mr Jarrett cracked his knuckles audibly whilst sizing up Mr Pears.

    Mr Hinds’ lip curled into a snarl of a half-smile. “So, you will resist.”

    “Damned straight I will” replied Mr Orpington, placing his cigar into his mouth, relighting it and puffing it back into life.

    “I see.”

    Suddenly Mr Pears was a blur; he leapt onto Mr Jarrett and flung his arms and legs around him, then head-butted him hard, so hard in fact that Mr Jarrett’s eyes crossed; then he arched his back, drew back his head and butted Mr Jarrett again…and again…and again, each time hitting Mr Jarrett square between the eyes with a loud crack that reverberated around the room.

    Mr Jarrett began to sway in the manner of a ship’s mast on a rough sea.


    He fell to one knee, still swaying.


    He fell to his other knee.


    Mr Jarrett fell backwards, landing on the thick carpet with a thud. Mr Pears drew back his fist, and slammed it into Mr Jarrett’s face; again and again and again, until the light went out from behind his eyes and Mr Jarrett moved no more.

    Mr Pears stood up, the lenses of his spectacles transitioning from opaque to translucent, and turned to stare at Mr Orpington whose cigar had fallen from his open mouth, eyes grown wide.

    Mr Hinds smiled, rose from his seat.

    “Now Mr Orpington; the address please.”


    249 words

  11. “This is the game.” The voice was so low and sultry, coming from the corner of the darkened room. I had to strain hard to catch every word.

    “You had best start running now.” The voice was closer now, and yet whoever spoke remained in the shadows still. I strained my eyes wanting a small glimpse of the male tormenting me.

    “You have the ten minute head starts I give to all the elders choose to appease me.” Derision laced the raspy voice now. Was the Beast unhappy with the choice of me, a small, weak male as sacrifice?

    I let hopelessness wash over me, I had no way of escape. I would be the victim of whatever this Beast wanted of me. And I knew no one had run and survived as sacrifice to the Beast.

    I collapsed in a heap on the floor, bitter tears streaming down my face. I was only twenty three, too young for my life to end. And if I were honest, some of those tears were for the Beast. I could not hate the Beast, thinking he was as much a victim of this as I.

    “You will not resist?” Two more steps had the Beast at the edge of the candles glow. “You cry, why?”

    Scrubbing the tears from my eyes, I lifted my head. Schooling my features, I took in the countenance of a beautiful man caught between his wolf and his human side. So this was the Beast.

    248 word count

  12. Mia squinted at the sign next to the airline’s gate. “We’re going to Vegas? But I thought the club won’t be ready until next month?”

    “It’s not. I need to check on a couple of things and I have a surprise for you that I’ve been working on for quite a while.”

    Mia wrapped her arms around Asher’s neck. “You’re too good to me, Sir.”

    “I like the way that sounds.” He brushed his lips over hers.

    Still in the process of testing their D/s relationship, Mia never used “Sir” in the bedroom. Her submission training was both the most satisfying and frustrating experiences of her life. Asher continued to push her to her limits. Since taking over the Vice President of Client Experience position at SRE, she’d had many first time clients in her office wanting kinky experiences as tame as a blindfold and as extreme as a harsh whipping on a St. Andrews cross. A shiver ran threw her body as she wondered about her surprise.

    Asher traced the pads of his fingers across the back of her neck making her shiver again in a good way. “What’s the matter, love?”

    She turned to face him. “What’s waiting for me in Vegas?”

    “Don’t you trust me to know what you can handle?”

    “Yes, but--”

    “So you will resist. I thought we were past this, Mia.” He held her chin between his thumb and index finger.

    She nodded. “I do trust you,” she whispered in a shaky breath.

    250 words of SRE series WIP

  13. I tightened the necktie and saw him wiggle just a bit.

    "Does that hurt, love?"

    His answer didn't interest me really, but I did enjoy knowing.

    "A little, babe." I heard a soft groan as I yanked on the straps that held his ankles and grinned in spite of myself. "Do you think this is a good idea?"

    I couldn't answer him right away, I wasn't sure what to say. It was a great idea as far as I was concerned, but as for him? No, he had had better ideas in his day as I was sure he was going to realize in the very near future.

    I ran my fingernails across his bare chest and stomach before grabbing and tugging the soft flesh that rested between his thighs. His eyes opened wide and I pulled at it again.

    "Something wrong, love?"

    He tried to speak but couldn't seem to make words formulate, which was okay, because unless he was screaming, I didn't want to hear his voice at all.

    He began to struggle a little more, pulling at the restraints that held his limbs firmly in place but unfortunately for him, he was not going anywhere. I watched his face as it turned from mere fear to stark panic as he realized his predicament. He began to thrash violently and I couldn’t help but laugh.

    "So, you will resist me after all, love. I was hoping you would."

    I tightened my grip a bit more and he screamed.

    250 Words

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


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