Thursday, January 3, 2013

#ThursThreads - The Challenge That Ties Tales Together - Week 52!

Welcome back to the Weird, the Wild, & the Wicked. Can you believe we've been doing this challenge for a whole year? That's right, I started this thing back in December 2011 and now we've officially hit the 52nd week. *Jaw drop*

So let's get started. It's Thursday again, so what should you be doing? Writing #FlashFiction, that's what! Welcome to Week 52 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 52:

Fellow fiction writer, editor extraordinaire, and the original bird nerd, Emily Drew.

So now your Year Old #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.

The Prompt:

“There’s this girl you see.”

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's amazing what catching signt of the right person, the right way, can do to galvanize one into action after too much waiting, hoping, and wondering. Instead of longing pointlessly, now my heart is racing, my breath catching in my throat, and I can't take my eyes off her.

    There's this girl.


    See, it's not impossible to talk to someone, despite being afraid. It's just difficult. Between the killer hips and the large-caliber gun you're pointing in my general direction, you can appreciate my hesitation.

    Or perhaps you'd prefer I hesitate less, and run away more?

    In a moment; I need to catch my breath. You are, after all, breathtaking, but that might just be the adrenalin talking.


  2. Father Son Dynamic

    Desmond entered the tavern trying, with questionable success, to banish the moue of contempt that overtook his face. While it was no secret young Oliver found enjoyment in surrounding himself with things human, to the elder vampire it felt akin to being asked to socialize in a barnyard. Cattle held their place in his world, certainly, but as cattle not as social contacts.

    Still and all, he felt a certain fondness for Oliver as the first child he’d created upon coming to this city and he indulged the youngling far more than he should. With a resigned sigh, he insinuated himself through the sweaty, drunken masses attempting to incur minimal contact with them.

    Desmond wiped with his scarf before, reluctantly, sitting in the booth across from his son. To his credit, Oliver immediately assumed a posture of submission, baring his neck to his sire in the ritual offering of his essence. He was unprepared when the normally light nip that sufficed as acknowledgment stung him far harder than he’d expected.

    He realized, only then, he’d not progressed as far as he’d imagined in his quest to shield his thoughts. He’d been prepared to offer an impassioned plea to his Master, but realized before he’d even opened with: “There’s this girl you see…” that Desmond would not approve of his request to turn the woman he loved.

    A curt nod was all he received by way of acknowledgment before the elder departed into the night leaving Oliver alone amongst the crowd.

    250 words @klingorengi

  3. There's this girl, you see. The first time I met her was in the woods. She caught my eye not only because she wore a red cap and cape, but also because her beauty outshone anything I had ever seen before. She had a basket in which she was taking some food to her ailing grandmother and she walked along without a care in the world.

    We hit it off right away, exchanging blushes as I accompanied her along the forest path to her grandmother's house.

    Not wanting to interfere with her visit, I suggested we could meet, again, some other time and she coquettishly agreed.

    By then, I was quite hungry so, upon encountering a lumberjack farther down the path, I transformed and made a quick meal of him, leaving very little of his carcass.

    Red knows my dual nature, now, but we're still together. Her grandmother never did get better and now Red is living off her inheritance.

    Sometimes, as she scratches behind my ears - regardless of which form I'm in - my thoughts go back to that first day when I decided she was much too good to become my lunch but made her my bride, instead.

    199 words

  4. “I swear, I’m totally sober,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “There’s this girl you see.” He turned back to the officer. “Well at least she was a girl but,” his eyes bounced around looking for an accurate description but found none.

    “Right, whatever you say. I’m still putting you under arrest for Public Intoxication. Come on, get in the car.”

    He slammed the door and shook his head; now he had heard everything. He a piece of gravel bounced across the asphalt and hit the side of his boot. He slightly turned his head to the direction it came. He did not have time to react as the open mouth full of teeth attached to his face.

    The young man in the backseat of the car screamed for him as when he tried, blood filled his mouth and choked him. He watched the officer twitch in her grip. She looked so sweet at the bar, the girl any guy would be glad to take home to mom. He saw the officer slump to the ground and she stood next to the car.

    She bent over and looked at him through the window. He pushed himself across the seat and wedged himself against the door. She smiled with blood stained teeth and drew a bloody heart on the window. He squeezed his eyes shut, muttering prayers, not knowing that she turned and left him with her mark; he would be more than a meal.

    244 Words

  5. I close my eyes and settle back in the padded chair. It smells a bit musty, overlaid by the lingering memory of a woman’s perfume.

    “Tell me about the dreams, Logan.”

    The use of my first name draws me in. Makes me a person again. Elsewhere, I’m Captain or Cooper. I’m only Logan to her.

    “There’s this girl.”

    “You see her often?”

    Seeing isn’t the right word for it. She’s a flickering shadow in my peripheral vision. For a split second I think I see her, but when I turn to face her, she vanishes.

    “Not exactly.”

    But damn, I feel her.

    “Does she talk to you?”


    “About the war?” He doesn’t comment on my spare answers, but I hear the scratching of pen on paper. The good doctor is making notes.

    “She comes to me when the nightmares get...worse.” Sometimes she’s gentle, sometimes she tells it like it is. Somehow, it’s always what I need. “She helps me work my way through.”

    “A manifestation of your subconscious, then,” he says. “Your mind’s way of coping with your experiences here.”

    Uh, no. Hell, no.

    She touches me. Loves me blind and stupid. If she’s just some aberrant brain activity… I have a whole new meaning for ‘mind fuck.’

    “I suppose,” I say aloud.

    “It isn’t unusual,” he says. “Post-traumatic stress presents in numerous ways, Logan.”

    “I know, Doc.” And I do. I just can’t believe she’s a symptom of PTSD.

    I need her.

    I need her to be real.

    250 #WIP500 words

  6. "There's this girl you see."

    "Say no more"

    "She is unlike any other girl in the world."

    "Or like every other girl in the world"

    "You are so cynical"

    "You are so naïve"

    "I am telling you this is the one."

    "I thought the last one was the one."

    "She had a boyfriend."

    "Does this one have a boyfriend."

    "She's married, but they are separated."

    "So she was the one for this other guy but now she's not anymore, sounds perfect for you."

    "You know her, it is why I wanted to talk to you about it."

    "oh shit."

    "Yea, you don't mind do you, I mean you guys are totally through right?"

    "Oh we are through; let me tell you something, she is not the one."

    "Can I buy you a drink?"

    "You already did."

    "I know but I am feeling a little guilty here."

    "I'll take a gin and tonic, and here's a toast to your happy new life."

    "You really don't mind?"

    "She doesn't do anal anyway."


    "Not in 11 years of begging."

    "Maybe she's not the one."

    187 words

  7. I lay in bed, staring at the wall, wondering where that spider came from. As I follow its progress, I listen for the sounds behind me. A gentle snore tells me he’s asleep at last, and I exhale, glad I don’t have to pretend anymore.

    I shouldn’t do this. It isn’t fair, and it’s no way to keep a marriage going. But when he comes to bed, I know what he wants, and I just don’t want to give it anymore. It’s easier to feign sleep than to be honest.

    I could say it’s his attitude, the way he treats me. Or maybe the way he never helps around the house, or his nasty surfing habits.

    But, there’s this girl, you see. I can’t stop thinking about her. She has beautiful eyes, and soft hair that hangs down her back. I remember the way it felt when I held her head in my hands as we kissed, the way her breasts pressed against mine, the way our hands and lips explored, and the earth-shattering pleasure I felt when I was with her.

    I thought I knew what I wanted from life, and I thought I had it. Now, I’m not sure about anything anymore. I should just let it go, pretend it never happened, and get back to life as it had been.

    But now, everything has changed.

    Because of this girl.

    232 words

  8. Revelations

    “Did you find it yet?”

    She looks at me across the chaos we’ve made of the place – papers spilled over dishes cleared from tables next to cushions flung from couches. The china cabinet remains unsullied, because I don’t want to be haunted unnecessarily.

    She holds up a journal, old leather cover cracked, pages loose. “There’s this.”

    “Girl! You see why I called you in. I tried for a year to find it.”

    She looks at me like she usually does, lips pursed, slight frown, eyes trying hard to keep from rolling. “You’re the worst damned thief I’ve ever met.”

    I’m not, of course. Well, I am bad at stealing things. That’s not my job. It’s hers. It’s why I hired her. That, and the curve of her waist where it meets her lush hips and the way her hair hangs over one eye with the perfect curl resting just above her breast. If I said so, she’d punch me in the face. I think. She might shoot me.

    She’s the most exciting woman I’ve ever met, and I’m more than half in love with her. Which is bad, I know. Business and pleasure mixing and all that. I just can’t seem to care.

    She tosses me the book, and I lunge for it. A single page escapes, flutters mid-air, hangs there. As it descends, I scream.

    “What is your problem?” she snaps.

    She couldn’t know. I never told her what's in that book, but she’s about to find out.

    250 words

  9. Siren

    He started talking to me the moment I was within earshot.

    “I’ve been coming to this beach every summer for fifty years. It’s become a personal pilgrimage of sorts.”

    I nod, not sure what to say.

    “There’s this girl you see. We’ve met here every summer since I was a lad. I say met, but that’s not true, we’ve never spoken. Hell, I don’t even know her name.”

    I don’t know his name either, but I guess I’m going to hear his story.

    “She sits on the rocks out there, waiting. Every year she beckons to me, but I’ve never gone to her. Fear wins every damned year. This time it’s going to be different.” He grins, and there’s something a little off about it, something broken. “I got help and finally took the plunge, literally. I learned how to swim, just for her.”

    He points out to sea. “She’s waiting for me out there. It’s finally our time. Will you watch my things for me?”

    I start to tell him there’s nothing out there. That there’re no rocks and no woman, but something in his eyes that tells me I should stay silent. He heads down to the water and starts swimming out to open water. I stare hard, and for a brief second I swear I see a woman waving and swimming towards him, but when I blink and look again, they’re both gone. I gather up his things. Wherever he is, he won’t need them anymore.

    249 words

  10. “Why are you moping about, Darius? I thought you’d gotten everything you wanted.” Tiberius strolled with him through the Court, nodding graciously to the other courtiers of the Summer Queen.

    “I did. And I’m not moping.” He couldn’t quite disguise the snarl in his voice as easily as he could his face.

    “Yes, you are. Ever since you got back from your last assignment, you’ve drifted through your duties and barely remembered to invite your family to Court. What is up with you?”

    “It’s nothing.”

    “Does nothing have a name?”


    Tiberius snorted and raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never seen you this way after an assignment. Hell, you’ve rarely visited us throughout your career with the Queen. But this has woman stamped all over it. Who is she?”

    Darius dragged his brother over to the balcony overlooking the ballroom and scanned the space around them. The last thing he needed was the Court learning of his personal life.

    “There’s this girl. You see, she’s more than just the Queen’s assignment.” He gritted his teeth. “We performed the Beltane rituals together.”

    Tiberius scoffed. “You’re mooning over one night?”

    “It wasn’t just one night, Ti! I stayed with her and her family for a sennight. I learned about her, experienced a small measure of her life.” Darius’s heart still ached. “I miss her.”

    “By the Goddess!” Tiberius laughed. “Have you actually gone and fallen in love, Darius?”

    “Not so loud.”

    He sobered, gripping Darius’s shoulder. “Don’t wait, Darius. Make her yours. Now.”

    250 ineligible #WIP500 words

  11. Haunted Thoughts

    “There’s this girl you see, who just messes with my head.”

    “In what way?”

    “I can’t get her out of it; she dominates every thought I have.”

    “And how do you feel about that?”

    I shifted slightly on the couch, not really wanting to reveal my innermost, even though it was what I was here for.

    “It’s like I can’t think, like there’s this film running in my head all the time and it totally distracts me; I struggle to concentrate on anything else. I find it annoying but I can’t seem to stop it.”

    “But what thoughts are they exactly?”

    “Like scenarios or scenes; imagined meetings, imagined conversations.”

    “And what does she say?”

    “Well that’s just it, I do all the talking, don’t I? ‘cause she’s not really there.”

    “So you’re fully aware that it’s a fantasy?”

    “Yes, but it’s like I can ‘feel’ her, like she knows it’s going on. Like she really is there listening, like the conversation has really happened. It’s weird.”

    “And when you see her in reality, what happens?”

    “But I don’t.”

    “What do you mean?”

    “I haven’t seen her for 12 years.”

    He paused, stalled by this fact. “But when did this internal dialogue about her start then?”

    “Last week.”

    “Can you think of any reason why it has?”

    “I saw her obituary in the paper.”

    223 Words

  12. He used the same gun he always had, but he watched as his partner struggled with something new. It was heavy, bigger than she was used to and with her small hands, she was having a hard time getting a good grip.

    “You’re gonna get us killed,” he murmured, wincing when she shot him a menacing glare.

    She shrugged him off. “Oh shut up. You were in the middle of asking me something?” She reached for something smaller, something she was much more used to.

    He walked ahead of her, his hands pocketed as they began trotting up a flight a stairs. “There’s this girl you see…”

    She rolled her eyes. “You’re asking me relationship advice?!”

    “You’re the only one of us in a function relationship! Yeah, I’m asking you!”

    “Jesus, Vernon, what do you expect me to say?”

    He shrugged, his features becoming tighter as he lifted his gun, checked the ammo and then removed the safety. “I just…I like her, ya know?”

    She moved to the other side of the door, poised and aimed, and also shaking her head. On three, they kicked the door in. There was yelling, screaming, and gunfire, and by the time they were through, the carpeted floor was squishy with blood and the walls were splatter. The air around them was thick, heavy with the scent of musk and gun powder.

    Alexandra holstered her gun and called in the bounty. “So… are you going to tell her about all this?”

    247 words

  13. I looked at my sister as she bounced up the stairs. “Cilla!”

    She twirled at the top of the stairs, as she faced me. “Yes?” she sang, bouncing a bit.

    “Are you…happy?” I asked, cautiously. I’ve seen my sister drunk, angry, high, but happy is a rarity.

    Her blue eyes sparkled as she heaved a dramatic, happy sigh. Then, she squealed and jumped on me. Lucky for her I have good balance or we’d have tumbled down the stairs.

    “Girls? Everything okay?” my dad hollered from the kitchen, as I peeled my sister off me.

    “Fine dad!” Cilla called back, her face set in a grin. She shook my shoulders and looked me right in the eyes. “There’s this girl you see—“

    I started laughing, I couldn’t help it. “I thought so! Details, sister, details!”

    Pulling me behind her, my sister took me into her room, throwing me down on her rumpled bed. “Oh Eliza…she’s perfect! I know Randi’s been my best friend for years, but she’s so…perfect. The way her finger teased my—“

    “Whoa! Reader’s Digest version, please.”

    Cilla giggled, at which point I was convinced she was high, and sat next to me, folding her hands over her chest. “Suffice to say that woman is a monster in bed. And I love her.”

    I hugged my sister then stood, smiling. “I’m happy for you. But you may wish to gather yourself before you come downstairs; dad’ll think you’re high again.”

    244 Words

  14. Zombie Hell
    By Lisa McCourt Hollar

    “Saul. Is something bothering you?”

    Saul Joseph looked up from his musings. He’d been walking down the school corridor deep in thought, oblivious to those around him. School wasn’t officially back in session, Christmas break didn’t end for a few more days. Mr. Morrison had asked him to come in early to work on a mural. He’d almost said no… SHE was going to be there too.

    “I just want to be friends.” Those words haunted him all through Christmas break. He’d poured his heart out to her the last day of school, only to have her reject him. And then just the night before he’d seen her at the bowling alley with Chris Evans. CHRIS of all people. If she knew the stories he told in the locker room. Saul wanted to warn her, but was afraid it would come out as jealousy.

    Heck, he was jealous, he admitted to himself.

    “Saul?” Mr. Morrison smiled at him. Most teachers acted like they didn’t care about what went on in their student’s lives, but not Morris, as some of the kids referred to him.

    “Well,” he started, and then stopped. This was uncomfortable. Embarrassing. Saul blushed. “There’s this girl, you see…” He paused. How could he explain it? His words come out in a rush. “She’s the most beautiful creature ever! She’s smart and goofy and she makes me feel…” he paused again. He didn’t know how to describe the emotions he felt when he looked at her.

    Word Count: 248

    This is the first 248 words of Zombie Hell. The rest can be read on my blog


    Trolls are ugly, stupid, and smell terrible. It would be useless to explain hygiene to them, and they just don’t quite suit my villainous aesthetic. So why do I keep a handful in the dungeon beneath my castle? Raw power. Sometimes you just need the unkillable, unrelenting might of a troll to get the job done.

    Stealing the Orb of Sunlight from the ruined Cathedral of Mercy shouldn’t have been one of those times, but my resources were spread a little thinner than I prefer and none of my more sophisticated agents were available.

    Honestly my concern had been that Vrog and his crew would damage the Orb, not that they would return without it. This was the sort of simple fetch-quest I could have hired novice adventurers to do for me, if I didn’t think they might opt to keep the Orb themselves.

    “Vrog, why do you not have the Orb of Sunlight?”

    The fetid giant stuttered fearfully. One advantage to troll stupidity, they’re easy to fool. My trolls believe that I could destroy them all with a wave of my hand if I so chose and I use that to my advantage.

    “There’s this girl you see.” Vrog whimpered. “She guards the Orb.”

    “A girl? You mean, a human child?”

    My best troll nodded, “She was scary!”

    I should have gone with the adventurers.

    226 words

  16. It was the girl who stared at Mary with cats eyes before dashing away. She shook her head and went over to where she saw her, looking around the tall oak but couldn’t see anything behind the open area of the gardens. She couldn’t have been imagining things. Mary didn’t think she was so delirious from the weather that she was imagining things. She hadn’t even touched the wine.

    But the girl was gone. Her brow furrowed before she shrugged and made her way into the garden, heading towards the hedge labyrinth. She wanted to be alone anyway. Perhaps the sun was stronger than she thought.

    “Mary, there you are. Mother was looking all over for you. She’s upset that you disappeared without a word.” The soft tone matched the young beauty standing there under the powder blue umbrella. Delicate white lace gloves covered slender hands. Meredith was the favorite and all she had to do was given people the big brown eyes and they fell over themselves to do it.

    Meredith was her sister. And Mary sort of hated her. It was hard to live up to the expectations or even be remembered with Meredith around. “There’s this girl, you see. I had thought she had run through here.”

    Meredith frowned and glanced her head. “I didn’t see anyone.” Her lips turned downward, giving that pitying look to the other girl.

    Mary scowled. “I didn’t imagine it. I saw someone come by this way.”

    “Of course you did.”

    249 words

  17. Being thrown out of a window 17 stories above the ground is no walk in
    the park. Even Wolverine would have needed a moment to shake it off,
    but me--little ol' Mary the Mighty? I should have needed a month to
    recover, super regenerative abilities or not. But I got right back up
    and charged back into the building. I might be super fast and super
    strong, able to heal in moments. But I couldn't fly.

    One of the many drawbacks of my particular flavor of superhero. And
    any other day, the ass-whooping I'd received so far would have me
    calling in the big guns. It only took one text to Gotham. Or
    Metropolis. Hell, I was bleeding from so many wounds at that point
    that I was thinking calling collect to Central City. Whatever stopped
    the pain.

    I was out of my league.

    I slammed through a barricaded set of office doors to confront, you
    know, the bad guy. And I met a fist that would dent titanium. It definitely broke every damn bone, and I mean every single bone. I kicked the face I couldn't even see through my crushed eye sockets and felt a flitter of triumph when I heard a body fly through the wall by the very window I'd been thrown from. It was momentary success. It. Would. Be. Back.

    And I didn't know how much longer I could last. I could die here. And why?

    ...there's this girl, you see.


  18. #ThursThreads is now CLOSED. Thank you to all who came to write on our first anniversary! Hope to see you all next week. :)


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