Thursday, March 14, 2013

#ThursThreads - The Challenge That Ties Tales Together - Week 62

Welcome back to the Weird, the Wild, & the Wicked, and a second year of #ThursThreads flash fiction. So let's get started. It's Thursday again, so what should you be doing? Writing #FlashFiction, that's what! Welcome to Week 62 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 62:

Book trader, Narnia lover, and contemporary romance author, J.N. Johnson.

JN is offering a special prize to the Winner .She will give the winner an ecopy of her newest release, Passionate Tides. So now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.

The Prompt:

“Not that he knew it.”

All stories written herein are the property (both intellectual and physical) of the authors. Now, away with you, Flash Fiction Fanatics, and show us your #ThursThreads. Good luck! :)


  1. "I loved him. Not that he knew it, of course."
    Rachel let out an exasperated scream and plopped down onto the chair beside Kyle, her best friend since elementary school.
    "Honey...." Kyle placed an arm around her shoulders. "Did you ever really give him a chance to find out?"
    Rachel looked at him. ", but......."
    Kyle chided her. "But nothing." He pushed a stray piece of auburn hair behind her ear. "You are a beautiful girl, Rachel, and you deserve someone that makes you happy."
    Rachel smiled at this. "Really?"
    "Yes, really."
    Kyle stood and brought Rachel up with him. He pushed her toward the dressing room where her love was getting ready.
    "Go fight for your man."
    As she walked away from him he whispered under his breath. "God knows he will be better off with you than the tramp he's gonna marry today."

    146 words @bookwormattack

  2. “You’re hands are free so you should be set.”

    Stephen nodded and rubbed his wrists where the twine had chaffed. “Can I get my weapon back, now, Ms. Stanton?”

    “Oh. Uh, yes, of course.” She reached behind her, tightening the wet shirt against her breasts and his cock took an interest, flexing behind his fly. Stephen gritted his teeth and tried to keep his expression bland as she handed him his piece and belt. “Just keep the gun out of sight as much as possible. From what I’ve seen, they don’t have firearms and I’d just as soon they never develop them.”

    “The centaurs.”

    “Yes. Or everyone here.”

    “Where is here?” He buckled his equipment belt around his hips and scanned the stockade. The lodgepole fence rose too high to see much of anything beyond, but he’d shot a honest-to-God satyr trying to seduce her earlier.

    “From what I can tell it’s an…alternate world.” She grimaced at his dry look, wrapping her arms around her waist to keep warm. “Hey look, I didn’t say it makes a lot of sense, but when I came here, they told me humans were a myth. A kind of boogeyman to frighten their children at bedtime.”

    Bethany shivered and huddled against the stockade wall. The sudden urge to wrap himself around her soft, yielding body grabbed him by the balls. Not that he knew it was soft, lush, or even sweet scented. Yeah, right. Nice try, jackass.

    244 ineligible #WIP500 words

  3. My heart jumped into my throat, and my stomach sank to my feet. And maybe my brain shut down all but one thought when I saw him.

    At last.

    I smiled. I maybe grinned like a lunatic. My hand even lifted to wave, before common sense righted me and I tunneled my fingers through my hair in a non-lovesick way.

    But oh man. I was totally lovesick.

    I searched his dark gaze for a spark, an ah-ha, recognition, anything to give me hope. Watching the eyes I’d seen in a thousand dreams pause on me, and every other woman in the bar, then move on—I snagged a glass of wine from one of the partying servers and drank it down. Next to my dream man, the fey redhead who’d started this chaotic fest smiled my way with a sidelong glance to his friend. He leaned close, whispered something in his ear. Those midnight eyes locked on me. I couldn’t read his expression, but he shook his head enough for me to know…

    He’d loved me once. Not that he knew it.

    Now he didn’t even know me.

    188 #WIP500 words

  4. Faith marveled at how it was the only flat on the entire floor, and conjured a million reasons why she had no business being there. Richard Halstead was way out of her league.

    Before her confidence could deflate further, she stepped into the foyer, her high heels sinking into the lush carpeting. When she reached the door she hesitated, taking a quick check of her appearance to ensure the body hugging, black strapless number hadn’t slipped to reveal more than she intended. Just enough to tempt without screaming desperation. She adjusted the gold and pearl padlock necklace Richard had given her as a training collar, ensuring it sat properly around her throat.

    Talking a deep breath, she swiped damp palms on her wool coat and rapped lightly on the apartment door.

    A deep rumbling bark answered from the other side.


    In spite of her inherent dislike of all things dog, Faith giggled. Richard’s massive Saint Bernard adored her, which made him her favorite canine of all time. She’d even gotten used to his drooping, drool filled jowls.

    Moments later, the door swung open.

    Richard stood on the other side in all his dark, knee-melting glory. “Right on time, as always. Good girl.”A bright white toothed grin flashed beneath a pair of mesmerizing green eyes.

    His smile had the most tantalizing affects on her body, sending her tummy into cart wheeling flip flops, and her pulse to racing. Not that he knew it. At least she prayed he didn’t.

    249 Words

  5. Her rage is what fed her now. She shoved the plates into the boiling water so hard it made them clatter. She thought she might have broken one, but she didn’t care. For a moment she imagined throwing them to the ground one by one so she could watch them shatter all over the horrible hard tile floor – how glorious that would be! But then she thought of the mess and how she’d have to clean it up afterwards, and she returned to her quiet state of silent fuming.

    She didn’t know how long she could keep doing this; how long she could keep it locked up. But although she delighted in the thoughts of letting it rip, right at him, right in his face, she knew it wasn’t a good idea – he wouldn’t take it well, in fact the thought of his reaction scared her stiff.

    She’d investigated you see, and found out the truth – even spoken to his other wife. And they’d shared; they’d befriended and now they plotted.

    She was dying to tell him; dying to spit it all out into his face, but she couldn’t – not yet, not until they were ready.

    Not that he knew it, but he was going to be left high and dry and that thought brought a smile to her face, dulling the rage a little; quashing the hurt and the heartbreak, allowing her to carry on for just a little bit longer.

    242 Words

  6. I snapped my fingers in front of Eliza's face.

    "Focus, woman talking here."

    Heat rose in Eliza's cheeks, and she pulled herself together with visible effort.

    "Sorry, but I can't help it. He's just so dreamy."

    I didn't have to act very much to giggle.

    "Mr. Geeky, dreamy? Seriously, Eliza, you need to get out more, if you think that Sean Grumpy-Ass is dreamy. Geek central, more like."

    Eliza sat up straighter and positively glared at me.

    "How can you say that? Just look at that butt."

    The owner of that derriere was now leaning over a desk to check the connections behind the computer screen. It's what Sean, the IT guy, lived for. Everyone knew that, but it didn't stop half the female staff of the office from lusting after him.

    "I'd so bite that ass," Eliza whispered.

    I coughed to hide my reaction. Our resident IT geek did have a behind to die for, not that he knew it.

    "Just look how he fills those trousers, and he has big hands. You know what they say about a man with large hands."

    She was warming to her subject, and I shifted slightly, the soreness between my thighs testament to the truth behind that saying. I hid my grin behind my hand when Sean straightened up and winked at me. I couldn't wait for our next encounter in the stationary cupboard.

    "So, like I was saying. Do you want me to get those pens for you, Eliza?"

    248 words

  7. Captured

    Roarke's vision blurred, turning the words and graphs from the never ending parade of slides in the dark conference room into fuzzy blotches. His attention moved to the window where a sprinkling of snow flurries floated from the gray sky reminding him how he brushed a single snowflake from Julia's eyelashes just hours before.

    What were the chances of meeting her again after so many years? Thoughts of lingering kisses and empty promises taunted him for weeks after their brief but passionate night together. It was the last time he would hold her, not that he knew it. Not then.

    The scent of her perfume invaded his senses and put him on edge. His wool jacket captured the essence of lavender and jasmine from her embrace. The warmth of her body penetrated the suit of armor her spent years of building around his heart. He vowed never to let anyone in again. But that was before his lips reclaimed hers once more.

    "And that concludes our presentation. Any questions?"

    Roarke clicked his pen bit in quick succession. His heartbeat mimicked the rhythm as he pushed his seat from the conference table. "None here," he said over his shoulder as her pulled the business card and his phone from the pocket of his slacks. Sliding his thumb over the screen, he tapped in the phone number.

    "Hello?" Her voice melted the remaining layer of ice over his heart. At that moment he knew it. He was captured.

    "Hey there, beautiful."

    249 words

  8. He was ugly and offensive. Not that he knew it. He seemed to think he was modern society’s gift to women, just because he owned an expensive watch, drove a fast car and could afford to take her to the best restaurant in town.
    At least it was reputed to be the best; so far Mel couldn’t connect what she was eating to what she had ordered. Since when was risotto covered in breadcrumbs, surely that was a rice bite?
    The only positive from the whole evening was their waiter and what a positive she was. Mel was guessing Mediterranean, with her bronzed without a hint of orange skin, long dark hair and dark eyes. Her eyes were so dark Mel felt she could lose her way and stumble into the girl’s arms.
    What a gift to man or woman she would be.
    Mel’s phone rang. That would be her friend Kirsty giving her an emergency get out call if she needed it.
    “Sorry, I hope you don’t mind if I answer” She said already taking the phone from her purse. “Hello?”
    Letting out a false gasp of shock, yes there was a little bit of the drama queen and possibly king in her, she rushed through a well-practiced speech “Oh my god that’s awful, you’re sure you’re not hurt? Of course I’ll come…”
    She was apologizing and gathering her belongings an instant later. “Call me.”
    She spoke to her date, but deftly slipped her card to the waiter.

    249 words

    @EroticWritings or


    Away from the cities and forests, away even from the mountains and oceans, out in gentle hills an old man kept a small farm. He kept a horse and a cow, a beautiful flower garden and a tidy vegetable patch just large enough for his needs. Every week, but never on the same day, a small black rabbit came to his vegetable patch and the old man would share a pleasant meal with her.

    His guest’s name was Puca, and she wasn’t really a rabbit, but a devious trickster spirit. Not that he knew it. Normally Puca would have played some trick on him and moved on, but the old man’s carrots were the best she’d found in all her travels. So every week she ate with him, and decided playing her tricks could wait.

    Sometimes when Puca came to visit the old man’s daughter was there. The old man was healthy and took good care of his farm, but when his daughter visited she made sure to help with the chores that weren’t as easy for him. Puca often considered changing into some other animal or even a goblin to startle the humans, but always ended up watching them until it was late and time to go back to her burrow.

    Then one week when Puca came to visit, the old man was crying alone in his garden. She wanted to ask him what was wrong, but he didn’t know she could. So she just sat with him instead.

    250 words

    1. "I... I... I'd like to meet a friend of mine... H-H-His name is H-Harvey..." :)

  10. Fox and Hound

    “He acts like a lord taking stock of his vassals,” the woman beside me huffed. Flawless makeup hid much, but she’d been used often and badly.

    “I think of him more as a shepherd looking over his flock.”

    “You mean they’d follow him anywhere.”

    “I mean if they scattered, he’d never get them back.”

    Not that I blamed Val for having no control over those in attendance. Young, rich, and frequently bored, they waited for someone to break their social code, so they could turn on the heretic.

    I sat at the bar, not so out of place as to be obvious, but someone was bound to notice I didn’t belong. Lucky me, that person was Val. He gave me a crooked smile and approached, all perfect lines and animal grace. I’d waited years for this moment, not that he knew it.

    “Catalina,” he purred. “Lovely to see you again.”

    “Percival Weatherstone.”

    “How might I serve you?” He gave a mock bow, complete with flourish.

    “I think it’s my turn.” I reached into my purse, pulled out a letter, and slapped it on his chest. “Consider yourself served.”

    He tossed it aside. “After all we meant to each other, how could you treat me as a job?”

    “It was just sex, Val.” Spectacular sex, actually. “I’m a constable, and tonight you are my job. Good luck.”

    I left him, mouth agape, and smiled all the way home. He never could stand his charms being ignored.

    The chase was on.

    249 words (sans title)

  11. I sat in the lobby, head in my hands, waiting. Once again, my husband was found half-dead somewhere. This is the third time in the last year that this has happened.
    “Jacoby? Come on back.”
    I stood, following Dr. Kai Mathias to an ER room. My husband was deathly white and stick thin. Taking his cold hand, I sighed, waiting for the worst.
    “I dare say that had someone not found him when they did, he’d be dead. There might be some brain damage, but I won’t know until he wakes up. I’m sending him to ICU until he wakes up and then, as usual, it’s off to rehab.”
    I nodded, unable to say anything more at this point. But I had an ultimatum…and as soon as he was awake, I was going to let him know. For now I had to sit by him…because I love him. Not that he knew it. But I had to sit by him and hope he realized that he was loved.
    “Drug addiction is a tough beast, Coby. But he’s capable of beating it, whether he realizes it or not. I’ll send him to Creighton Rehab again when he’s more stable. Just understand that this might be a tougher detox than usual.”
    I followed the doctor out of the room. Putting a hand on my shoulder, the doctor walked away, as Jimmy was moved upstairs. Resisting the urge to scream, I followed his bed. He was in for it once he woke up.

    250 words

  12. He had paid attention to her.

    He had held doors open for her.

    He had sacrificed his own interests to devote time to her interests.

    He had taken her to dinner as well as cooked dinner for her, taken her to musicals as well as sung to her, taken her to poetry readings as well as written poems for her.

    He had met her parents and her friends with no hesitation or objections.

    Finally, here he was, down on one knee and holding aloft a diamond ring.

    It all had gone exactly as she had planned - not that he knew it.

    101 words

  13. Hey guys this is JN and I just wanted to say WOW you guys are making this really hard to judge. All of the entries are amazing! Keep up the great writing.
    He was my everything, not that he knew it, and there was no way I was going to admit my obsession. I knew better than to get attached to a married man, it was supposed to be a one-night-stand, a romp in the sheets that would be wiped away with the morning sun.
    But every time his plans brought him to town, he ended up at my door, and my panties ended up around my ankles.
    He was my poison, my drug and I was swimming in the ecstasy of being his part time girl.
    That was until today.
    His pants had fallen off the edge of the bed, crumpled on the floor. I leaned down to pick them up and fold them before they wrinkled. I may give them man the best orgasm of his life, but no way was I going to iron.
    His wallet lay open, a photo of him and his wife stared back at me from the folds of the leather. Her face haunted me.
    I felt like a whore with a scarlet A on my chest.
    Anger rose, why had I allowed myself to toss out all of my morals for a man?
    The pain from his hold on my wrist as he twisted the accusation from my fingers sent anger coursing through my veins. But it was the slap across my cheek as I told him it was over that stung the most.
    He was a dead man, not that he knew it.
    250 words

  14. @JXilon on twitter. 248 words.


    They had scheduled John’s death to come in the next 5 minutes. Not that he knew it.

    His mother, Mary, knew it, but she pretended that she didn’t. We knew, and we knew why she acted like she didn’t. That’s probably what made it so damn hard.

    Special dispensation had been granted to execute prisoner #9674 in a non-standard way. He couldn’t have understood the regular process, wouldn’t have known what was happening or why. It would have scared him though, and with no way to understand it all the people several rungs above my pay-grade decided that would be cruel.

    So they slipped some things into his last meal, a bowl of fucking cheerios, and we all waited. Don’t ask me why he was considered capable enough to take the blame for that kid’s death but not capable enough to be done away with in the regular way. I can’t possibly explain it.

    I wanted to give his mom a ride home or something afterward. I know that’s lame, but I just didn’t want her walking out of there alone. Wasn’t possible of course. I wish I’d at least offered anyway. Job be damned.

    The thing I still don’t get though - if the state was so sure John was guilty enough in that kid’s death to be put down by a bowl of breakfast cereal, then someone should have to stand up and take the blame for Mary.

    I think maybe we’re all guilty for hers.

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


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