Thursday, September 18, 2014

#ThursThreads - The Challenge That Ties Tales Together - Week 136


Welcome back to the Weird, the Wild, & the Wicked. It's Thursday today, so get your flash ready. Writing a #flashfiction thread! Welcome to Week 136 of #ThursThreads, the challenge that ties tales together. Want to keep up each week? You're welcome to join the FB #ThursThreads group where we'll do events and make announcements. 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 8 PM Mountain 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 136:


Medical heroine, mom of teenagers (read = supermom), and romantic suspense author, Cindy Stark.

And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.

The Prompt:

“We are the chosen ones.”

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!

32 comments:

  1. Word count: 250 Twitter: @AliceRaine1 Email: aliceraineauthor@gmail.com

    On the drive home from work one doesn't expect to see things plummeting from the sky, but as Hannah glanced out the window across the lush green fields that’s precisely what happened.

    Squinting to make out what was falling from the heavens, Hannah could have sworn she saw flailing arms shortly before ‘it’, crashed into a copse of trees. Whatever the object was, it landed with such force that it sent dusty clouds pluming into the air and Hannah instinctively found her foot slamming on the brakes, sending her car into a wild skid before it abruptly drew to a halt at the side of the highway.

    Hesitantly Hannah got out of her car, whilst looking above to check that no more objects were about to fall on her from the cloudless summer sky. When she was sure it was safe, Hannah began to make her way down towards the trees to find out exactly what it was that had so bizarrely crashed to earth.

    Never in her wildest dreams had Hannah expected to find a handsome man lying in a crater from his fall, but even more shockingly, he seemed completely unharmed as he stood up and strode towards her.

    ‘Hannah, thank god you’re here.’

    Immediately on alert she tried to step away from the strangely familiar man. ‘How do you know my name?’

    ‘I’ll explain later. All you need to know for now is that we are the chosen ones, come on, we've got a planet to save.’

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    1. This sounds like fun. :) "It's raining men!"

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  2. Her level, blue stare disconcerted him though he’d come to recognize the stubborn jut of her chin. What thoughts tumbled through that intriguing mind of hers? She surprised him. Continuously.

    “What gives you the right?”

    “We are the chosen ones.” He answered without pretense. This was the truth of his world.

    “Chosen by who?”

    She challenged him on every level, this small human female, but he grew tired of her contrariness. “Enough.”

    “No. Not enough.” She planted fists on her hips, eyes rebellious. “You come here. You enslave us, murder us, use us for sport. Who chose you?”

    “The gods.”

    “There are no gods.” She spat the last word like it left a bitter taste on her tongue—a tongue he had far better use for.

    He grabbed her, his arm shooting out as quick as a serpent. She struggled and his blood lust rose. He would have her here. Now. She stilled, but her body remained tight as a bow string. Pinning her to his chest, he let her feel his desire.

    Her eyes softened, this incredible feral creature, as she cupped his face. “You undo me, Pax.”

    And there was the rub. She slayed him, with her defiance, her will to survive, her tenderness. Never in his life had there been tenderness. Though enemies, she offered her soul. To him, the perfect hunter. He could not release her. Ever. She was his.

    “Cheyenne.” He used the name she called herself. And she became his equal in that moment.
    ****
    250 words (on a project that's been teasing my Muse)
    @SilverJames_

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    Replies
    1. This is amazing! You have to continue it and be sure to let me know when it's ready :)

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    2. I don't see the word "jut" nearly often enough. It's such a perfect term.

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    3. Wendy, I'm thinking about maybe serializing this on Wattpad for a free read, just for fun. I don't normally write SciFi but these two characters won't leave me alone. LOL And thanks to you and Sandi for the kind words.

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  3. Word count: 247 words
    @EdenConnor
    edenconnorwrites@gmail (dot) com
    http://edenconnorwrites.blogspot.com/

    “So, what’s the plan?” Marc kicked the lever and the anchor chain rattled free, making a gentle splash as the weight plunged into the harbor waters. He turned in time to see Beau wave the bourbon decanter.

    “I’m going to break Mama of meddling in my life once and for all. I’m going to propose to that redhead I met tonight.” A wave slapped the side of the Tattered Past, tossing Beau onto one of the padded seats at the rear of the forty-foot boat. With a grin, Beau threw his feet onto the seat, propped on one elbow, and saluted Marc with the bottle. “And since we’re head-over-heels in love, we’ll want to be married by Christmas, of course.”

    Marc looked away from Beau’s flushed face and triumphant smile, wishing he’d never come back. He studied the high stone walls of Fort Sumter off their starboard bow, rising from the mist shrouding the harbor. Beau’s mother was the heavyweight champion of Charleston society. Alarm for this unknown woman ripped through his chest. “Clemmie Lee will annihilate her, Beau.”

    “She can’t touch her. I’m fucking over this ‘We’re the chosen ones’ rhetoric.” Beau drank deeply from the bottle. He wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist and his handsome face twisted. “I’m gonna show her she can’t control who I love.”

    Marc kept his eyes on Beau’s face, but Beau refused to meet his eyes. Pain sliced through his heart. “She already has,” he whispered.

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    Replies
    1. Oh dear...this sounds heartbreaking. Is it part of something else? I want to know what happens.

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  4. By the way Scott stumbled into the room, someone behind him had given him an extra push.

    “Are you okay?” Suzanne didn’t much like the guy, but she didn’t like the idea of him being hurt, either. It wasn’t his fault they’d been locked up together.

    She’d lost track of how long they’d been stuck in this dark little room, but judging by the meals, it had been at least three days with no explanation. She couldn’t speak for Scott, but she knew she’d never done anything wrong enough to get locked up like this.

    “Get off me,” Scott couldn’t seem to stand having her near him. Each day he got a little worse, and he hadn’t started off all that charming either.

    “Did you get any idea of who they are?”

    That was the kicker. Suzanne didn’t even know who was holding them captive. She’d been grabbed off the street, thrown into a blacked out van and dumped into this room without ever seeing the face of her attackers. The shape of their bodies left a lot of questions though.

    From what Scott said, that was essentially his experience, too.

    “No, but I know what they want from us,” he answered her.

    “What?”

    The look he gave her, long and slow, drifting up and down her body, left no room for more questions.

    “No! I won’t do it.”

    “You have to if you ever want to see more than these black walls.”

    “Why?”

    “Apparently, we are the chosen ones.”

    250 words, @WendyStrain

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  5. Cassidy trembled and closed her eyes. What the hell had just happened? The creature, Steve’s lightning fast reflexes, and the sword – where had that come from?—and the bone melting kiss. Was she losing her mind? Was there a code for officer attacked by flesh-eating monsters? Probably not. They’d think she was drunk, high, or both. Damn, she wasn’t sure she wasn’t and it was mid-morning.
    What was that thing? She could still smell its rotting flesh. Steve was “taking care of it”, right? Before she did or said anything, she needed answers, and the guy with the answers was over there doing god knows what to that thing.
    She looked out the window and watched her savior cross the road and walk towards the car. His six foot, two inch muscular body attested to his fitness. His spiked blue-black hair shone like a raven’s wing in the sun. His aqua eyes were fixed straight ahead as if he could see into her soul.
    What would he do if I just jumped him and tore his clothes off right here on the side of the road? Get real, Cassidy. Demigods aren’t interested in the likes of you. He’d run for the hills.
    Steve unlocked the door and got into the car.
    “I guess we need to talk,” he said starting the engine.
    “You’re damn right. What the hell was that thing and what on earth are you?
    “A guardian. We are the chosen sent here to protect our mates.”
    “Mates?”
    250 words @jandsmatt

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  6. Six gorgeous men surround me, dressed in nothing but towels. Sweet smoke fills the air. Each man approaches me, desperate for my attention. I send each one away until two fill my needs.

    "We are the chosen ones."

    I smirk. "You are. Keep that beast in the corner there away."

    A demon snarls and thrashes against his chains, his red skin glistening with sweat. Chains rattle and clank, bolts strain but he stays put. I slowly take a drag on a joint, the smoke curling in my lungs before I breathe it out. Blue, pink, green, yellow, orange swirl on the floor and ceiling, shifting and writing, as my chosen ones fawn over me.

    "Master, how can we please you?"

    "You can get me a glass of wine."

    Number One scurries off. Number two runs his fingers through my hair. Lightning zips through my lair and my body jerks. Voices intrude my solitude.

    "2mg of NARCAN!"

    I accept a glass of wine from Number One. A bolt of lightning sizzles near by and we duck. My body jerks and a new reality haunts my vision. I force a calming breath, my body raked with tremors. Vivid white invades my vision and I blink.

    "He's back."

    I suck in a breath and choke. My trembling hand reaches for a jeans pocket that isn't there. That means my other LSD tabs are gone. Which means I'm still alive. Which means my next stop is the federal pen. Fuck.

    @Aightball
    246 Words

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    Replies
    1. Okay, that was cool. From such a beginning to wind up where it did - nice!

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    2. Agree with Sandi, ending actually made me jump, I wasn't expecting that one. (I don't jump easily btw!) Well done x

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  7. An old home at the edge of town was my dream location where I could start a restaurant, so when the former owner Damaris Gordon had declared me distant family and sold it to me for a cheaply, I was overjoyed. But not my long term boyfriend, Grant Hamilton, he looked at the restaurant as a rival and we split. I spent light night scouring my accounts and sleeping at the building. I heard noises and went to investigate and to my surprise a ghost appeared.
    “What do you want of me?” I asked.
    “I am Matilda Gordon your great-great grandmother and I am here to tell you we are the chosen ones, the Gordon women are brave and unstoppable, we live and love hard. But we often overlook the man who is the best for us. He’s at the door girl let him in.”
    I went to the door and there he stood his short blonde hair dripping in the rain and his overcoat dripping but his hands a bouquet of roses.
    “Mattie I love you and I’m sorry. Please forgive me marry me and I’ll support you in whatever you want to do,” Grant cried holding out the roses and a ring. In reply I placed the ring on my finger and was grabbed in a wet embrace.
    I swear I heard bells ring and all the lights come on and my great-great- grandmother wave out of the corner of my eye then she smiled and faded away.
    250 words
    @SweetSheil

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  8. “Not gonna happen,” Mikki murmured, clutching at my forearm. I flexed my fist to make my muscles ripple but she didn’t notice. I guessed I couldn’t blame her; we were waiting for our fate to be decided and even my forearms would take second place to that.

    Hey, I worked hard on those things.

    “It might,” I told her, whispering into her hair. She smelled amazing. Like clean laundry and girl, with a subtle heat reaching from her body to mine that added layers to the combination. “You should make it, anyway. You’re smart—“ and pretty, I added to myself. “You might make the cut.”

    Only a select group of people were picked before they reached eighteen. It was an honor to be chosen to get the enhancements that would extend life. That’s why I worked out, so that I would look good and be strong. I studied hard, too.

    No one wants to die, right?

    Mikki smiled up at me for a moment, her blue eyes reflecting the lights from the stadium. “You’re so sweet, Stephan.”

    “Uh, thanks?”

    She pursed her lips. “For luck,” she blurted before kissing me on the cheek.

    “Wait just a sec,” I said. “Let’s try that again. We are—“

    “The chosen ones will assemble on the platform to my right.” The Science Officer’s voice crackled through the system. There was no preamble, no more time to hope. “Mikki Adams.”

    I had to kiss her, then. Just in case.

    I never heard my name.
    = = =
    Word count: 249
    Sandi Layne
    @sandyquill

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  9. drat that was suppose to be cheap, not cheaply

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  10. I'm back in!

    “We are the chosen ones.” The message flashed on the navigation screen in front of Miyuki. No matter what she tried, she could not clear it from the screen. “Antonio, get up here this instant,” she demanded. Munching on a drumstick, he poked his head through the cockpit door and stopped as soon as he saw the message.

    “They found us?”

    “No, shit, Sherlock. What are we going to do now?” Her voice wavered as she spoke.

    Tossing the chicken leg in the disposal chute, he slid into the co-pilot's seat. “Have they sent anything else?”

    “No, just that one line. I can't even clear it from the screen. Well?”

    Antonio extracted a book from storage. He scanned the pages rapidly, then glanced at the screen again. “Um... This is embarrassing,” he muttered.

    “What is it, Antonio?” Her restrained tone belied her anger.

    He reached over to the keyboard on her side of the cockpit and pressed the “ENTER” key on the keyboard. “Sorry.”

    “WHAT? That was an outbound message?”

    Antonio grinned sheepishly. “Yeah. I was about to send it when I had to go to the head. On my way back, I got hungry. That's when you called me.”

    “Who did you send it to?” Miyuki was livid.

    A large starship materialized in front of them. Antonio looked up then said nonchalantly, “I sent it to them.”

    “You WHAT?”

    “Relax—they're loyal to you. They're here to escort you home. You're the queen now, Your Majesty.”

    *****
    247 words
    KB Gardener
    kbgardener.author@gmail.com

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  11. “We are the chosen ones.”
    "what was that?" "what, what you on about?" "nothing sweetheart, it doesn't matter!"
    Several weeks of this passed and Suzi was starting to despair. Timmy kept repeating the same phrase intermittently. The strange part was he didn't remember speaking the words. It was as if he was not himself then suddenly returned in a flash. Suzi gave herself a shake. She had to stop thinking like this or she would end up going crazy.
    “We are the chosen ones.”
    "what did you sweetheart? Whose the chosen ones?"
    "I don't know momma, love you, can I have a lemadde?"
    "love you too sweetheart, I'll get you a lemonade in a second"
    Suzi let out a sigh as she went off to the kitchen. Everytime someone sang or played comfortably numb. Ironically it had been Suzi's favourite song. The band would remain a favourite but someone somewhere was misusing her favourite track and manipulating her baby and others too for hadn't she heard comments from other mothers in the playground? There was a mystery here that she'd have to learn to live with or else she'd have to solve it. Perhaps Hey You would be her favourite track now.

    202 words
    (Charley_001)

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  12. ~~~~~

    “That is such a dangerous concept.”

    “What is, dad?”

    “This concept of thinking that We are the chosen ones. It always leads to war and misery.”

    “Yes, that is certainly true. That kind of thinking is believing that you are a notch above everybody else, and that never ends well.”

    “Right. Because once you start thinking that you are better than everyone else, the step is really close to not caring about them at all.”

    “By the way, dad, we should check the livestock. Don’t want any escapees, again.”

    “Right. Thor, you settle the ravens and I’ll check on Fenris.”


    ~~~~~

    Word count: 100 on the nose
    Twitter handle: @AnnaLund2011

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    1. Just another day in the life of the Norse gods... :)

      Vikings! Again! Yer ah-sum.

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  13. “Sweet one, open your eyes.”

    Gana rolled over and blinked. The dim light of dawn lit the hut through a small window. Dako sat on the edge of their bed and stroked her hair. Outside a breeze rustled the dried grasses that made up their hut. She inhaled deep, the smells of salt water and sulfur clashing. Gana closed her eyes and sighed.

    “Hold me darling."

    Dako lay down and wrapped her in his arms. They lay breathing together until the distant sound of a bell rang across the valley. Dako sat up.

    “It’s time.”

    Gana kept her eyes closed and remembered the choosing, remembered drawing the bones from the sacred gourd, seeing the joy in the faces of their families, in the faces of the tribe. And the terror she felt in her heart. She sat up and pushed the memory aside. A tear fell to the straw mattress.

    Dako brushed the moisture from her cheek and kissed her.

    “My love, we are the chosen ones.”

    He held out a beautiful robe embroidered with ornate gold designs, identical to the clothing he already wore. Gana nodded and accepted the dress. She squeezed his hand and smiled.

    Outside the hungry volcano rumbled.

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    1. Volcano! Oh my. What an ending for the peaceful entrance!

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  14. The wind whistled from the cave mouth, sounding much like a colossal giant whistling in the dark. Hidden depths let the sound resonate and Corlith shivered. Whatever had been left here certainly held sway.

    “Be still, both of you.” Siriana snarled at them, but Corlith noted her expression held tension.

    “What’s the matter, Princess?” Corlith shrugged away his misgivings. “Already regretting the decision to come in here?”

    “Only regretting the sequence of unfortunate events to bring you into our domain, goblin.”

    “Yeah.” Corlith nodded as his eyes roved over their surroundings. “Me, too.”

    Despite his hands tied behind him, he took a few steps under one arch, inhaling the scents of dust and moisture. Why would it smell wet in a desert cave? Might be the rain outside. Corlith took a careful, meandering path through the broken debris from the ceiling.

    The sounds of the rain faded and a new thunder reached his ears. He ducked under a toppled column and damn near banged his head on it as he stood up too fast. A great waterfall filled an atrium-like room, the pool surrounding an altar covered by hanging vines and flowers.

    Across the altar words had been carved.

    “By the Goddess.” Siriana appeared at his side.

    “What does it say?”

    “We are the Chosen ones.” She pointed to a pictograph below the words. An odd carving of a gryphon and a bipedal figure with horns facing each other with forelimbs joined stood out in stark relief. "That’s us.”

    249 ineligible #WIP500 words
    @SiobhanMuir

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  15. “How does she end up among the stars? The woman who wants the earth and grass between her toes, who studies and tends the life the soil offers up?”

    His words carried a romance that turned my cheeks red. He offered me the distance of third person to tell my tales. Silly that it should work. He had a surprising knack with people, my space pirate. A half-smile curved my lips. And when had I started thinking of him as mine?

    “It cannot have been easy to trade the endless cycles of growth for the dead of space.”

    “No.” Maybe I—she—even changed her mind once or twice. “But then she gets a letter. You know what I mean?” Had he ever seen paper?

    “I’m familiar with the concept.” He grinned. “I made a fortune on parchment and stationery once on the third moon of—” He cut himself short. “So. She receives a letter…”

    “Understand, out of tens of thousands of candidates, twenty get this particular letter.” The claustrophobia of those insane early months closed in on me— “The press is hounding our every move, family and friends are angry and hurt, those who didn’t make the cut hate us. And there’s EASA, just feeding the frenzy. Go here. Smile there. Wave. Yep, here we are—the chosen ones. Gaea’s Chosen.”

    “Do not ask me to pity you, love.” His smile invited a response. “For the journey brought you to me, a turn of events I cannot regret.”

    @caramichaels
    250 WIP words

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    1. You tease, Cara! When are you writing that one all the way? I gotta know what happens to that pirate. :D

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    2. Haha... he wasn't even supposed to be "the one"... I dunno. He decided this is his story, forget the other guy. ;)

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  16. His armor should have chafed. It used too, back during a time when things were simpler, clearer.
    Without realizing it, Stavross had actually gotten used to the discomfort. Now that it was gone, an ironic sense of melancholy had settled over his soul. The oddly uncomfortable had become the strangely consoling.
    “You’ll get used to it.”
    Myrna could read his mind. A trait in exceptional women, he’d noticed. Stav’s mother had always seemed to know what he was thinking, and she was exceptional indeed. Until he met Myrna, Stavross had chalked it up to matronly wisdom.
    “I don’t want to be used to it,” Stavross replied. “I just want to go home.”
    Stav peered out over the balcony to wide green fields behind a rocky chain of hills.
    Myrna drew up beside him.
    “I know.”
    “But this is home now, isn’t it?” Stavross asked.
    Myra’s silence answered quite succinctly.
    Heavy weights of a king’s burden pulled his shoulders down.
    “We are the chosen ones.” Stavross stated flatly, in a statement of neither question or fact. “Aren’t we?”
    After a moment of reflection on the landscape around them, Stavross turned to his love. Deep eyes conveyed the true sorrow in his mind, and the devotion of his heart.
    “I’m sorry.”
    “It’s okay.” Myrna replied, seeing in his eyes the depth of his emotions. “I’m still glad to be with you.”
    Stav’s eyes went wide.
    “Really? Even if it is the end?”
    “Even if it’s the very end, my love.”
    @EvenSultry
    248 words

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  17. Wow! These stories are awesome! It's going to be difficult to choose a favorite... I'll check back after the contest has closed. :)

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

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