Thursday, May 10, 2012

#ThursThreads - The Challenge That Ties Tales Together - Week 22

Welcome back to the Weird, the Wild, & the Wicked. Right now it's Thursday, so what should you be doing? Writing #FlashFiction, that's what! Welcome to Week 22 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 22:

The erotic romance writer and cross-stitcher, Angelica Dawson.

And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.

The Prompt:
"I’m terminal, not contagious."

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


  1. Into This Love
    Raymond C. Morris

    She smiled into his eyes, “I’m terminal, not contagious or porcelain, Mark.” At the word ‘terminal’, a thin veil of unspent tears appeared at the corners of his eyes, the moonlight turning them into molten silver. Constance could feel him pulling away, the concern of having her outdoors outweighing her wishes. He started to speak but she placed a thin finger to his lips. “I’m fine; I’m not going to break. Just… love me, please.”

    He resisted for a moment, but only a moment. He put his warm lips to her fevered ones, wetting them with his tears as he kissed her, deeper and deeper until her head was spinning, more so from his touch than the medication.

    She pulled away from his gentle caress and lifted up, just enough to take the tender flesh of his earlobe between her teeth, her small tongue flicking at the exposed skin. He had always loved that, she knew. He groaned, as she knew he would, and lost himself in her desire.

    So great was her heat, that she thought perhaps her own body had created the mist that seemed to rise from the lawn around them, obscuring moon and stars. Her smile was soft and sensuous, her body urgent, as she wrapped her mind and soul in that damp blanket. And within the cocoon of oncoming oblivion she found love one last time, in the only arms she ever needed.

  2. “Look… I wanted to get together so that I could talk to you about the last few weeks.”
    “What do you mean?”
    Tina struggled to find the right words. She covered her golden eyes briefly, rubbing them before she looked back into Shayla’s confused gaze.
    “It seems like you are under a spell. You spend every waking moment with Kent. Every time I call to talk to you or try to get together, he’s there. You only met him three weeks ago, and it seems like you haven’t been the same since!”
    As she had feared, Shayla’s eyes narrowed, and her expression darkened. “This again… Really? Tina, I’m happy! Why can’t you be happy for me? Kent is everything I always hoped for and never thought I’d find!”
    “Of course I want you to be happy… What I don’t want is for him to take over your whole life, leaving you shattered when he doesn’t turn out to be what you thought! Everything you do or say revolves around Kent! It’s like you no longer have an original thought!” Tina ran her hands through her tawny hair, frustrated that this conversation was not going as planned.
    “That’s rich… coming from you!”
    “Stop it! We always talked about not wanting to be the kind of women whose lives revolve around a man! I know I don’t want to!”
    “Don’t worry… I’m terminal, not contagious. Anyways, you have to be receptive to love if you hope to find it, and you’re not!”

    250 words

  3. Nabiki kept her eyes down, within reach of her employer. The nurse tended him, washing him.
    “Yes, sir?” she answered in heavily accented English. She was fluent, but hadn’t been surrounded by English-speakers before her employer transferred to this facility.
    “Look at me?”
    She swallowed and lifted her dark eyes. Americans looked one another in the eye. She felt shame for the other party every time. At the same time, her heart raced when she looked on her employer, his pink-white skin, his curly reddish hair. He even had freckles. Something she hadn’t seen before meeting him.
    Meeting his eyes was always a pleasure, but her attention was drawn to his chest, bare but for the soft pale hair—another thing she had never seen before.
    His arm tried to curl around her waist, but Nabiki dropped to her knees.
    “I’m terminal, not contagious, Nabiki.”
    Her eyes remained on the hospital tile. “I know, sir. I would not shame you by pretending to be your equal.”
    “You’re not my equal.”
    Her eyes came up in surprise. Was he finally understanding her?
    “You’re better than I am, Nabiki. I don’t have much time left to show you that.” He slid his legs over the edge of his bed. Nabiki jumped up to stop him.
    Sitting, he pulled her between his knees. “You will be able to do what I cannot. Live on.”
    Her small stature put her head just above his. His face turned up just as she lowered her eyes.

    250 ineligible words

  4. “I’m terminal, not contagious.” She looked at me. I could see how wounded she was. The way her eyes pleaded for understanding. Friendship. Hope. The fear they contained of being abandoned by everyone she’d known. That slight tremble in her hands. The way she rested them on her lap. So they wouldn’t sake.

    There are times I hate our society. What it’s done to us. How we don’t care for each other anymore. As if we’re all replaceable parts in some machine somewhere. And all that matters is that we don’t get broken, so we don’t have to be replaced.

    “Fuck the rules,” I thought. “I don’t care if I get hurt. I don’t care if I cry when she’s gone. I can’t let her hurt this way. I can’t. Not while my heart still beats.” I knelt on the floor, in front of her. I put my hands on hers leaned forward, and wrapped my arms around her neck, hugging her. I didn’t let go for a while.

    She cried until the shoulder of my shirt was damp with her tears. But I didn’t let her go. I knew that she’d die, soon. A few weeks, or months. I’d cry when she died. But so long as my heart still beat within my chest, I would not let her face the final days she had in life alone.

    247 words

  5. A bowery of blooms floated over the water, the scent of lilacs and wisteria like a swarm of gnats. Jeremiah heaved the oars in silence, rowing them toward the middle of the lake. Violet perched at the stern of the rowboat, back erect and shoulders thrown back. She was beautiful—a regal chin if he ever saw one.

    “You can’t keep me here forever,” she said. “You’re nuts. My father will kill you when he finds us.”

    The boat continued to glide even when Jeremiah ceased his rowing. He forced a smile. "Then I guess I’m terminal, not contagious. Good thing for you that crazy isn’t catching.”

    “Even all of this,” Violet said, waving an impatient hand at the flower garlands and twinkling lights. “doesn’t make up for the fact that you kidnapped me. That’s so wrong.”

    “But . . . but it’s what you wanted,” Jeremiah said.

    “Let me get this straight.” She folded her arms across her chest and glared. “You think I told you to knock out my math tutor, shove me into your car, and drag me out into the middle of nowhere? And just when did I demand this fabulous favor?”

    He shrugged. “You were reading Romeo and Juliet and giving me that look. I know what you’re thinking.” He let the oars drift away and pulled a gun from his waistband. “And I know you can’t swim.”

    233 words

  6. It wasn’t the best time for one of Xavier’s coughing fits. Leaning on the bar with one arm, the pale young man waved off concerned waiters with the other. The world reduced to a knot in the burnished wood of the bar for a moment while Xavier willed his body to stop spasming.

    Composure regained, he looked up at the gorgeous, full figured, blonde whose presence had drawn him across the room. Her eyes wavered over him, her lips turned down in a frown and she edged away.

    “I’m sorry about that,” Xavier’s own mouth moved to his practiced smile. “I saw you sitting alone, and thought I recognized you from the Museum Benefit.”

    A tropical breeze stirred the charged air. Thanks to his thin skin and poor circulation, Xavier was the only person in the crowded establishment not drenched in sweat. He loved the smell of humanity around him, the energy of their healthy bodies.

    “I think you should go,” his mark turned back to her mai tai.

    Xavier shook his head, “Don’t worry; I’m terminal, not contagious.”

    Her next look was sharp and certain, “I’m more concerned about the taint on your soul. Not your physical illness.”

    Xavier placed his hand over hers, lightly brushing her fingertips with his own as he slid back toward her wrist. Her certainty began to melt. He gently turned her hand over and traced the sex line in her palm with his middle finger.

    “Have you ever been with a tainted soul?”

    250 words

  7. Tana grunted as she pulled the oversized envelope out of her apartment mail box. Which was immediately followed by a snort as she read “DO NOT BEND” stamped across its crumpled middle.

    It was from Kaileen. Tana hadn’t seen her in almost a year. They’d been what Tana always thought of as situational friends. Took the same aerobics class and were part of a group that would occasionally go out for a drink afterward. Nothing personal. Certainly not send cards in the mail type friends.

    “I’m terminal…”

    read the front of the card in big letters. Below was a picture of Kaileen, with a big smile, arms flung wide, and looking like she was finishing a tap dance. Until you noticed her head. You could always tell someone who was in chemo.

    Tana opened the card and couldn’t help but laugh to find:

    “…not contagious!”

    But sobered as she read the rest of the card:

    You’re all invited to join me this
    Saturday, 6pm at
    Ben’s Bar
    for food, fun, and liquor.

    Come help send me off in style!

    Kaileen had invited Tana to her parties before - and been turned down. But this time Tana knew she would be going and quit smacking the hand of friendship that was being offered.

    211 words

  8. “Please, Sam. Fight it. Stay with me.” Lindy smoothed the hair from her husband’s brow, tears stinging her eyes.

    “Lindy, I’m terminal, not contagious. There is no medicine that can help me fight this.”

    “Don’t say that. You’re strong.”

    “I used to be strong, Lindy. Now I’m just a dying addict.”

    “We can get you help. We can do this together. I’ll be there with you the whole way.”

    “No!” He still had a surprisingly strong grip for all his skeletal looks. “No, Lindy. You have to stay away from me. She’ll get to you through me. You must just let me go.”

    “Stay away?” Lindy shook her head and tears coated her cheeks. “Why should I stay away from you? I’m your wife. It’s my job to help you!”

    “No, Lindy. She’ll suck you dry too.”

    “Who? Who will suck me dry? What are you talking about?”

    “Please, promise me, Lindy.” Sam’s eyes dilated and glazed, but she could tell he meant every word. “Promise you’ll let me go and move away from here. Save yourself from her. Promise me!”

    “Sam –”


    “I promise, but I won’t leave you. You can’t ask me…”

    “I love you…” He tipped his head back and exhaled a rattling breath until he stilled.

    “Sam, no…” The love of her life slipped away, taking all her hope and vibrancy with him.

    228 ineligible (as host) #WIP500 words

  9. “Why don’t you come with me?” inquired John with a glint in his hazel eyes. “I’m terminal, not contagious you know.”

    “Yeah, I know. But wow, John. I mean, really. I don’t know what to say.”

    Dre looked down to the floor, avoiding the eyes of his sick friend. He owed it to John to be with him, but what he was asking was just too much. Skydiving was one thing. Scuba diving and exploring underwater caves was another. But this?

    “Look, Dre, I’m only asking you. You’re all I have, man. You’re the only one who would be cool with it.”

    Dre studied his shoe strings, trying to avoid eye contact with his best friend. They’d been through a lot together, and John must have figured his request was on par with everything else. But was it?

    “Before I agree to anything,” he uttered softly, “I need to know more.”

    “Yeah, sure, Dre. Like I said, it’s in Mexico. Down in Ciudad Jaurez across the Rio Grande from El Paso, Texas. The operation is really simple. We go there, pay them the ten grand or whatever they want, and then we go to a hotel and wait. It takes a couple of days for them to round up our victims. Then they deliver them to us, and we can kill them however we want.”

    “John, this has to be the most perverse bucket list I’ve ever heard.”

    238 words

    1. So perversely dark, but bonus points for mentioning the sister cities. :D

  10. Samantha
    Agree to Disagree

    “I propose an accord.”
    “An accord,” he repeated, raising a speculative brow.
    Resignation softened her spine, but pure stubborn nature kept her chin level. “If you help me find my cousin I will be your subject of study.”
    “Study? Explain.”
    Pressing her lips into a thin line at his constant repeating of her last word she continued, “I’ll give you insight into the second community. Whatever questions you may have I will answer to the best of my ability giving you an irrefutable advantage to do as you wish.”
    The air around him charged, changing back into the scholar she noted when he first dared enter her space “You seem put off by this arrangement.”
    His eyes searched hers, and by the fascination gleaming in his face she presumed her eyes were changing from her storming emotions.
    “Against my better judgment I am willing to risk discovery and most likely demise to further your cause”
    “Does your cousin mean that much to you?”
    Her glare crossed his, searching for some semblance of humanity. Did he feel she was devoid of such compassion? “Yes, Mr. Northe, she does”
    “You think me so eager to delve into your world?” disdain flavored his words in a most undesirable tone.
    “Leap of faith,” she held her hand out to him but he only stared.
    “I’m terminal, not contagious.”
    “Infliction isn’t terminal.”
    “Just standing here I am as good as dead, Mr. Northe.”
    “Well then Ms. Cross it seems we’ve come to an accord.”

    249 words

  11. Faded Memories
    by Wakefield Mahon

    Ramey, put on a containment suit, gloves and a mask before she walked into the room. She trembled as she stared at the most important person in her world.
    In her time, Nana was the most advanced nanny-bot on the market, nearly human in appearance with the first fully functional emotional array. Best of all, she willingly devoted herself to all of the human children she helped raise.
    No matter how much work Nana had to do, she always managed to make Ramey feel special. It was so long ago, but the memories hadn't faded. Seeing her like this broke Ramey's heart.
    "I'm terminal, not contagious. Even if EOL was viral, there hasn't been a machine to flesh infection in over two hundred years. I'm not THAT old!"
    "I'm sorry Nana, I didn't mean to insult you." Ramey's tears overflowed rendering her goggles opaque.
    Nana swiveled her head and offered a sympathetic if crooked smile. "There, there child; it's alright. You humans are so emotional, I don't think they could give me enough upgrades to keep up."
    "It's your memory Nana."
    "What do you mean? Sure, they don' t make my memory chips anymore, but the upgrades are lightweight enough. I just don’t think my central processor could keep up."
    "No, I mean your memory is failing." Ramey chocked back a sob. I'm not a fleshy, Nana, I'm your daughter."

    230 Words
    @Wakefield Mahon

  12. The bullet pierced his flesh before he even realized they were aiming. He had expected death to be instant, almost painless. How long could someone live with a bullet to the head, after all? But the pain was instense and wouldn't end and started to spread from his chest.
    And he heard her calling his name. At first, he thought she was an angel but if he were in heaven, would he still be in so much pain?
    Then he saw her standing over him and he felt a drop of rain on his face - or was it her tears? The world became a little less fuzzy and he saw reach out to touch him, before pulling away. She looked afraid.
    "I'm terminal, not congious," he told her, certain he was dying. She pressed a hand to his chest, drawing a scream of pain from him - and begged him not to leave.

    155 words (approx. I'm away from home and copied this into write or die for my word count)

  13. She turned slowly, her face turned up, in the middle of the field. The sun made her face glow with warmth. I watched with fascination and sorrow. Her beauty and grace was unmatched by any. I felt a smile stretch across my face. This creature that we treated so horribly, only came here to set us free. She stopped her pirouette and looked directly at me. My heart raced with anticipation.

    “Come,” she commanded.

    I could do nothing but obey. The petals of the flowers that grew from her twitched and twisted to taste me as I approached. I stopped before I was within her warm sphere and felt a tear slide down my cheek. Her beauty, even though now tremendously faded, was still strong and overpowering.

    "I’m terminal, not contagious," she stated, then with an almost pleading tone said. “It’s not too late to heal.”

    My eyes drank her in and I could feel the strength of her being pull me to her. The touch of her skin ignited mine. I yearned to drink her in, to taste those full lips to feel her sensuous caress. My clothes faded away and we stood as one in the field of swaying wheat. Our bodies undulated in time with the wheat surrounding us. Our union sent sparks of life into the air changing the world, even if just for a moment, into a beautiful place.

    234 Words

    1. I realized after I posted this that the picture of the girl with the flowers on her back was not part of the prompt but I think it worked out.

    2. Hehe, that's me! :D Wow, Now I'm all flattered by the piece... bonus points for baiting the judge ;)

  14. “I’m terminal, not contagious!”

    The bitter force with which she spat the words at him froze him to the spot. He was motionless; only his hair moved in the blast of air from the slammed door.

    But his paralyse broke and he rushed after her only to find her locked in the bathroom. He could hear her sobbing, and he hated that more than her screaming.

    “Sarah, come out!” He thumped on the door, but she only cried harder. “Sarah we need to talk about this!”

    Her sobs broke for a second as she screamed in response, “No we don’t.”

    “Yes we do Honey.” He tone softened as he spoke, he never could stay angry for long; not anymore.

    He waited, and after a few seconds he heard the click of the lock. He opened the door and found her sitting on the toilet, her face all puffy and forlorn.

    He squatted down in front of her, and lifted her chin so she had to look at him.

    “You’re really going to have to stop doing this.”

    A single tear rolled down her cheek. “I know.”

    “I can’t help you if you don’t let me.”

    “No one can help me.” She whispered.

    “Maybe not, but I can at least hold your hand.”

    He put his hand out to her and she took it, giving it a squeeze. With the other he wiped the tears off her cheeks. He sighed; he would miss her outbursts.

    244 Words

  15. I’m terminal, not contagious,
    Do not shut your eyes,
    And pretend I’m not here,
    Touch me with loving hands,
    Warm hearts filled with cheer,
    Caress me with tales of memories,
    Take me to places,
    We love to be,
    Take me for walks,
    Even in a wheelchair,
    Hold my hand,
    Like you’ll never let me go,
    But when I’m gone,
    Please move on,
    To happiness and cheer,
    Know though I’m always near,

    I want you happy,
    Even if it means,
    That someone else is there,
    To hold your hand.
    And wear your wedding band,
    Move on to warm smiles,
    A tender touch,
    And someone who loves you just as much,
    Just once in a while think of me.
    134 words

  16. "His"

    It just wasn’t right.

    He sat with his head in his hands, tried to stop himself from yelling again. From standing and throwing another chair. From crying. He wasn’t the one dying. He didn’t have the right to be so selfish, but when he looked at her and knew she wouldn’t be there tomorrow, he didn’t know what to do.

    She sat there smiling, her eyes rimmed in the blue lace of veins that signaled The Change. Her temperature had been a steady 103 for days. She no longer ate. Her breathing was shallow. Her pupils were always the size of silver dollars, but when she laughed—God, it was her all over. Sweet, open and so damned careless. Even now.

    She held her hand out for him, catching him in his reverie. “I’m terminal, not contagious, love.” Love, yes. He was her love. She was his.

    He took her hand. It would still be her until tomorrow evening, when she would walk out of their house, out of their life and be one of Them.

    But until then…she was His.


  17. At What Cost Survival?

    In the thirty seven years since The Event I have had ample opportunity to regret the fact that my colleagues in the hard sciences were not more correct in their assessments. Had they been, my cold tea with no one to re-warm it would be a non-issue. Had they been more precise, we would have all ceased to exist on that predicted fateful day. We did not. Just enough of us survived that imprecisely named “extinction-level event” to have to worry about what to do next.

    Oh, the meteors did impact the planet exactly as they postulated. In the blink of an eye, seven billion died with impotent screams of denial and rage on their lips. Those of us who climbed out of the rubble of our world were the true victims. We still lived, we still breathed, we had survived.

    I could direct them to the wing of tomes describing in infinite detail the means by which viable political leaderships are maintained. They prefer to war and battle amongst themselves. I could present to them countless studies on the exigencies of hydroponics and minimal-asset agriculture. They prefer to scrape the irradiated earth in pointless pursuit of sustainable food sources. I could spend an entire week bringing forth the manuals on field hygiene and disease control regimens. They would choose instead to perish of minor maladies and preventable contagions.

    It would seem that, unlike the bulk of those maladies...I’m terminal, not contagious. To them I am but a worthless librarian.

  18. “I’ve got a bad case of you,” he said. “I don’t think there’s a cure.”

    I didn’t want to believe him, but he looked so damned cute with that crooked grin tipping the corner of his mouth. His long hands curved around my hips and tugged me close. He nuzzled my neck, kissing and nipping up to my jaw. I shivered and he murmured something deep and meaningless. My pulse launched from lope to sprint.

    “No cure?” I gasped. “You say that like I’m terminal.”

    “Not contagious?” He grabbed me and pulled me into the heat of his body. His arms wrapped around me, tight enough to elicit a squeak of protest from me. “Because it seems to me I’ve caught you.”

    I pulled away, at least as far as he would let me go, but he just reeled me back in.

    “Don’t go. Don’t pull away.”

    “This is a bad idea, you know.”

    “Falling in love with a human?” He chuckled. “You have no idea how the higher-ups will disapprove.”

    “I’m serious.” I yanked my way clear for maybe half a second. “You’re a god.”

    “So I am, love,” he whispered against my throat. “But I don’t care.”

    “Maybe you should.” I struggled to maintain some semblance of common sense as his hands began to explore. “I’m just a human.

    “Not if it means giving you up,” he said. “And there is nothing ‘just’ about you.”


    “Not happening.”

    His lips claimed mine and I conceded the battle.

    250 #WIP500 words

  19. “Awww, let me out. Just for a bit.” The cajoling smile and the dark blue eyes peered out at Andra. “I won’t bite. Promise.” There was a pause and his eyes gleamed. “Unless asked.”

    She snorted and checked the bouncing lines that registered his energy and power. They spiked but that was to be expected with the solar flare. “I’d never ask you to bite and as for your sake of getting out. The answer is, how about ‘No’.”

    He pouted, stepping back to lean against the cement wall. He hissed and jerked, giving a dark look to it before his face changed, the anger melting as his lips curled up. “I’ll be good. This time.”

    “Like I would believe anything you say.” She rolled her eyes and settled back in the chair, one hand resting on the controls that sat there.

    “I swear, whatever anyone said I’m terminal, not contagious.”

    “That’s enough as it is. Just have a seat. The ship will be here soon enough to transport you back to your new home.”

    “But I like it here. You’re pretty.”

    Andra’s lips tightened and she spun around to face the consol. “Yeah, yeah, get your kicks where you can.”

    “What? I think you are. There is no one where I come from with red hair like that.”

    She reached up a hand to touch the flame bright tresses. “Sure you don’t.”

    The panel lit up and then all the lights died.

    There was a low chuckle. “Play time.”

    250 words

  20. Rebekah PostupakMay 10, 2012 at 7:09 PM

    It started on a Thursday morning, somewhere between French press and fried eggs, when she leaned over to kiss him and he turned sharply away.

    “You might be contagious,” he said.

    “I’m not contagious,” she said, but by then the eggs were cold and he was gone.

    It continued the following Monday when she opened her eyes to see the Egyptian cotton on his side of the bed still smooth.

    “I’m serious; you could be contagious,” he said at supper when she asked where he’d been.

    “Seriously, I’m not contagious,” she said, but the soft chirp of an incoming text drowned out her voice.

    It ended on Wednesday when she came home from work and saw him packing.

    “Because I’m contagious, right?” she asked, her dark brown eyes daring him to tell a different story than the unfamiliar perfume on his pin-striped shirt.

    “Um,” he said, fumbling with the suitcase lock.

    “I’m terminal, not contagious,” she said, in a hiss that cut through the air like her knife.

    168 words

  21. "What do you mean, 'No visitors'? I'm terminal, not contagious."

    "Yes, but your immune system is already severely compromised. The cancer and the treatments have left you with no way to fight even the simplest and most common infections."

    "So what? I'm dying, anyway. Why can't I have something positive around me for my last days?"

    Ultimately, they granted her request. She was only 16 and already had enough troubles without being unable to see her friends again. At that age, her friends WERE her life and she needed them more than ever.

    She never did catch any infections from her guests, but their visits were nothing more than palliative. From the time her cancer was first discovered, she only lived three months.

    Her father had died of cancer eleven years earlier and now, with Mirna gone, as well, her mother lost what little reason and sanity she had left, lashing out at almost anyone, including her tenants.


    This is a partially fictionalised account of what really happened to the daughter of my former landlady. Hard to believe that Mirna (not her real name) has been gone for three years already.

  22. “Send in the next one, please.” I hear a muffled voice droning beyond the door. It flies open, a clawed finger beckoning me into the darkness. I enter, rigid as steel.

    Marching toward the tiny fleck of light in the corner, I hear laughing all around me. The old man behind the desk strains his jaundiced eyes. “Well?” His skin hangs off his frame like it doesn’t belong.

    I take a deep breath and state clearly, “Sir, I’m Terminal,”

    “Not contagious I hope?” I am taken aback by his insinuations as he leans away from me.

    “Sir, Terminal is my name.” This is not a good start. The chair creaks when he returns to his ledger.

    “How much?” His quill scrabbles my name on the empty page.

    Sweat pours from my face as I swallow hard. “Is it painful?” I manage to squeak out. His eyes roll up, pointing cataract ridden pupils at me.

    “How much?” He repeats.

    I take a deep breath. “As much as possible.” He flashes his rotting teeth.

    “Excellent, the Mistress will be pleased.”

    178 words

  23. #ThursThreads is now CLOSED. Thank you to everyone who wrote this week and we'll see you next week!


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