Thursday, December 20, 2012

#ThursThreads - The Challenge That Ties Tales Together - Week 51

Happy holidays and welcome back to the Weird, the Wild, & the Wicked. It's Thursday again, so what should you be doing? Writing #FlashFiction, that's what! Welcome to Week 50 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 51:

One of my favorite science fiction, paramormal, and romantic suspense authors from Six Sentence Sunday, Silver James.

So now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.

The Prompt:

“Maybe tomorrow I’ll give her one.”

All stories written herein are the property (both intellectual and physical) of the authors. And next week we won't have #ThursThreads to celebrate the holidays, but I'll be back in the New Year! Now, away with you, Flash Fiction Fanatics, and show us your #ThursThreads. Good luck! :)


  1. There is this girl in my class and I think we should get married. She likes cars just like me and yesterday she dressed up as a princess and I was a knight. I battled dragons and she used magic to protect me because princesses have magic. Today I drew her a dragon and she drew a stupid flower but I still like her. She said her princess magic came from kisses and she gave me one at the end of recess. Maybe tomorrow I'll give her one.

    Tomorrows recess never came, the world came to an end as a monster far worse than any imagination could conjure destroyed the most precious thing in the world, innocence lay dead between a fallen princess and precious knight twenty four other stories also ended and fairy tales will never take me far enough from this world again.

    145 words

  2. “Maybe tomorrow I’ll give her one.”

    I must had read the words written in this journal a dozen times, rolling them over and over in my head. There is so little left that these little promises to myself make all the difference in the world.

    ‘Tomorrow’ has a way of hiding in plain sight without actions to signify it exists.

    “What we should call you?” She looked up at me and smiled in the way dogs sometimes do. Her yellow fur was starting to grow back, helped along by the brushing I did numerous times a day to remove the fleas and ticks. I found I looked forward to the ritual even though in a past life it would have disgusted me.

    Last night it rained hard and we both ran around splashing in the puddles. These are the things that bring us happiness now. I find that I don’t miss much of the old world even electricity seems like such a distant memory. I enjoy the physical connection to the world that had been substituted by the glow of the many gadgets the old world had filled itself up with.

    Now I feel the world, we both do.

    “Sam” I said and she immediately perked her ears up.

    “Sam it is then.”

    She moved over to me with a sigh and we lay there as the fire dwindled, staring up at the gray sky.

    “The stars will be back soon Sam”

    Words: 242

  3. Anyone Home?

    “A sign? Can I get a sign of any kind, please?” Her voice is hopeful; wistful even. Her wide blue eyes stare at nothing in particular. Her long black hair is windblown and tangled; a stray leaf rests upon her tresses. She is shivering in the chill of the forlorn house. She’s been coming here for several months, trying to get someone to answer her. So far, no one has.

    I’ve watched her from the shadows from the time she started coming here. She simply interested me at first, but her determination and sweet nature have made me fall in love with her. I don’t even know her name yet. She’s been very careful not to speak it aloud, obviously knowing the kind of power a name can hold over you. She feels something here. I can tell from the tension in her face and the set of her shoulders that she can feel the energy in the house.

    She wraps her arms around herself, moving to the next room. Her flowing skirts brush the dusty hardwood floor as she moves. She is grace personified. She stops in the middle of the room and holds her hands out in supplication, palms open and upturned. “I can feel your presence,” she says softly. Again, she politely requests a sign. Maybe tomorrow I’ll give her one.

    226 words {with title}

  4. Mayan Meltdown Blues

    It doesn’t look like she’s going to make it out of bed today. The part of me that once loved the woman whispers she just needs some words of encouragement. She just needs a reason to give a damn about what’s going on around here. Maybe tomorrow I’ll give her one, but for now disgust is outweighing compassion in my mind. I should be ashamed of that, I suppose, but my ability to feel shame has limits…as does my capacity for compassion. Those limits have been reached.

    Irrational fears were as much a part of her as the green of her eyes or the brittle quality of her laugh. Whether it was unexpected darkness or excessive sunlight, too little precipitation or the potential for spring floods, yin or yang, she was fully prepared to feel angst, unrest and depression over what it might portend.

    So, it should have come as no surprise to me the so-called “Mayan Meltdown” was the final straw that broke the weak camel’s back of her hold on reality. Nothing philosophical, analytical, cajoling or comforting I can offer up to her offers any hope she will rise above this setback and re-establish any sort of sane life.

    So, tomorrow I will give her that reason she so desperately needs. I shall either give her that or a steel-jacketed slug to the brain. But for now, it’s late, I’m tired and, at the moment, I’m savoring the delicious irony of not knowing what exactly tomorrow may bring.

    250 words @klingorengi

  5. The Poem

    People say I’m a good writer.

    When I say people, I am talking about my parents, and when I say good I mean that they believe I’m better than them. Given that English isn’t their native language it’s probably not that glowing an endorsement, but hey… you need to take whatever compliments life gives you. Right?

    So, what’s my skill (or lack thereof) of writing got to do with anything?

    Well, I’m glad you asked.

    There’s this girl you see. Isn’t there always?
    Corrine. She makes my day seem bright whenever I’m around her, it’s as if the air is cleaner, colours are brighter, smells are sharper, and her voice is the most beautiful of music to my ears.

    The thing is though, I’m pretty sure she doesn’t even know I exist.

    This is how the writing thing fits it. I wrote her a poem, you see.

    My heart and soul poured into eight verses of prose.
    I plan to share one verse a day with her. So she can get to know me a little at a time, until I stand naked (metaphorically speaking of course) before her, vulnerable and exposed. She would have my very life in her hands.

    The problem is I haven’t worked up the courage to start.
    Maybe tomorrow I’ll give her one.

    218 words @GZidar

  6. The woman her threadbare coat pulled tight around her barely registered, as I entered the grocery store. On a mission to get my Christmas Feast and baking goods, I whizzed around the store avoiding cart after cart, navigating the packed store. My family would have a great Christmas with everything we needed or wanted. Waiting in line I wished the line would move a little faster. I had so much to do and it was four days before Christmas.
    I exited the store seeing her again, she’d pulled an empty box into a parking spot to protect herself from the falling snow. I felt bad for a moment; after all I had so much and gave her the butter cookies I’d bought. I thought about inviting her to come home with me out of the cold, but I didn’t know her. I had cookies to bake. I thought about the old blankets I had in my garage and thought maybe tomorrow I’ll give her one. I went about my day baking cookies and pies, worrying I should go back to her
    The next day, blankets in hand I searched for her to no avail. A store clerk told me Mary had frozen to death during the night. My heart sank, my eyes welled with unshed tears, but tears were not enough. I vowed never to fail anyone again. I now work helping the homeless and help them find their way to homes. Not just for Christmas but all year around.
    250 words

  7. Oooo, Sparkly

    Her gaze never left the window, looking longingly at a dress so sparkly the window appears to be more like a disco than a Christmas display. I’ve been watching the beautiful woman for days from my bell ringing post across the street. All the while at the same time each evening, she would cross the avenue for what seemed like the sole purpose of looking at that ridiculous holiday window.

    Sure, there are lots of people who glance at the display, but none that I’ve noticed who come back every single night, no matter what the weather, no matter what the temperature. She always wears the same skull cap pulled firmly down over head; her coat zipped up so I can barely see anything but her eyes peeking between the two. I wonder why she is so drawn to that shiny dress, and if she really has anywhere to wear it.

    I’m just about to close up for the night when a gust of wind whistles through the alley between the tall buildings and blows the mystery woman’s hat right off her head. She manages to grab it before it sails too far away, but not before I catch a glimpse of her bare head.


    Wincing at the thought, I remember everything my late mother had to go through barely a year ago this Christmas.

    If the woman is drawn to the beautiful sparkly dress, maybe tomorrow I’ll give her one, and make a new friend in the process.

    250 words

  8. My daughter, Priscilla, is standing before me, all six feet four inches of her staring into my soul, her fifteen year old brain on fire with anger; all because I denied her a night out with friends. There’s a blizzard going on out there! I’m not turning her out on seven miles of gravel.

    “Hell no, Priscilla,” I repeated, unflinching when she stomped her foot. “There’s a blizzard on out there. Your father can’t even make it home from Omaha, so there’s no way in hell you’re going out there. I value your life, even if you don’t.”

    “Fuck you!” she shouted and ran upstairs, slamming her door.

    “That’s a dollar you owe the swear jar!” I hollered after her, as the house shook. “I’ll make it two if you slam that door again.”

    I listened for a second; I would give her time to simmer down. Her older sister came downstairs, glancing warily at her sister’s room.

    “What’s her problem this time?” she asked.

    “I denied her a night out with friends. But there’s a blizzard on and Jimmy said the medical helicopter is grounded, the interstate is closed, and no one is leaving Omaha tonight, let alone Mondamin.”

    Eliza shook her head, starting back upstairs with a snack. “Maybe you should give her a crash course in winter driving.”

    “Maybe tomorrow I’ll give her one,” I told her, grinning.

    “Wear a crash helmet,” she advised, closing her bedroom door.

    “Good advice,” I chuckled, turning away from the stairs.

    250 words

  9. Quinn had to admit Maia had behaved better than he expected for a spoiled princess on this trek across Northern Forests. She’d even learned how to build a respectable fire for their camp. He glanced over from his sentry position at the edge of the clearing, returning his dagger to its sheath. Maia fed another stick to the fire, her face sad.

    “Do you miss your family, princess?”

    Maia glanced up. “Did you just ask me a personal question? As in a real conversation?”

    Amusement bloomed through his chest, but he only cocked his head, waiting.

    “The Keeper of the Grove has the right to be angry with my sisters and me.” She shrugged. “Maybe tomorrow I’ll give her one reason to free the rest of my sisters, but not today.” Maia shook her head. “I don’t think any of them would make an effort to help anyone but themselves.”

    “Harsh assessment of your own family, princess.”

    “The name is Maia, and there’s no rank among light fixtures.” She hugged herself and hunkered down closer to the fire.

    Quinn sighed and rose to settle behind her, wrapping his arms around her torso.

    “What are you doing?” She froze in his loose embrace.

    “Lean back. We’ll both be warmer if we share body heat.” He didn’t tell her he wanted another chance to smell her hair and feel her body against his, even through clothing. “Relax…Maia.”

    “You used my name. Are you feeling all right?”

    Quinn just chuckled.

    247 ineligible #WIP500 words


    Arik held the marble rail white knuckled as he looked discontentedly over the dark forests beneath his exquisite manor. He paid no heed to the icy mountain wind, flapping his heavy fur cloak uselessly away from his body.

    “My lord seems troubled,” a playful voice descended from behind the baronet.

    “Chieko,” Arik lowered his head. “You are well aware of the state of things with the princess. I have a right to be concerned at this delicate stage of the proceedings.”

    The child with tiny ebon horns, wearing nothing but a summer dress, kicked her bare feet from her perch on the roof above her human companion.

    “Are you not satisfied with her response to the treatment?”

    The dark man pressed his fingertips together and brought them to his lips.

    “My control over her is adequate, but far from complete. There are still innumerable things that could go wrong and spoil my plans, and her majesty’s mistrust of me will lead her to seek such opportunities to make sure I fail.”

    “Then perhaps you should give her a reason to trust you,” the childish half demon grinned broadly.

    “Yes,” Arik smoothed his mustache. “Maybe tomorrow I’ll give her one.”

    Human and half demon both turned their gaze to the chapel sticking cankerously from the east wing of the manor.

    219 words

  11. #ThursThreads is now CLOSED. Thank you to everyone who wrote and see you all in the new year! :)

  12. Wow, Siobhan. This is HARD! There's some very interesting fiction here. I'll be emailing my choices to you shortly. To all participants? Well done! Flash fiction is difficult and all of you should be very proud of your efforts. Well done, all of you! (Which makes my job as judge extremely tough.)


Comments are on moderation, so they'll become visible once I've read them. Words, words, words. I love them. Have you a few to lend?

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