Thursday, April 11, 2013

#ThursThreads - The Challenge That Ties Tales Together - Week 66


Welcome back to the Weird, the Wild, & the Wicked, and #ThursThreads, the Challenge that Ties Tales Together. Let's get started. It's Thursday again, so what should you be doing? Writing #flashfiction, that's what! Welcome to Week 66 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 66:

The erotic romance author, Sci-fi adventurist, and Typo Sniper, Cara Michaels.

Plus today, Cara has a new release out: Orange Karen Tribute Anthology (ebook) and Print. Pick up your copy today. :)

So now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.

The Prompt:

“Sixteen and never been kissed.”

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. “Ah, Eros.” The feminine drawl reached me just before her scent clouded the air. Beauty incarnate, Aphrodite strolled up next to me with a flirtatious grin. “You’re looking delectable as usual.”

    “Not today, please.”

    “So serious.” She gave an exaggerated pout. “Why so moody?”

    “We’re immortal.” I let my gaze wander over Mount Olympus. “There should be more to our existences than ancient roles no one cares about any longer.”

    “Well, Hera cares. She’s always been a stickler for rules and regulations.” Aphrodite tapped her fingernails on the marble balustrade we leaned against. Her pose showed off the rose-tinged ivory of her cleavage.

    “I’m eons older than Hera,” I said. “And it’s not like she can stop us.”

    “Don’t tell Hades. He’ll be none too pleased to find out he could have taken a permanent leave of absence centuries ago.”

    “I’m not joking.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I want more from this life.”

    “Such melodrama. I want more, I want more.” Aphrodite’s face twisted into a mocking sneer. “Quit acting all ‘sixteen and never been kissed,’ Eros.” She threw her hands up in the air. “You’re the god of passion, relieving women of their undergarments and men of any brain power above the waist since time immemorial. What more do you need?”


    “Hmph.” She had never lacked the affections of another. Even for many of our own, she proved too alluring to resist.

    The stories said I’d loved once. I meant to experience it for myself.

    250 words of ineligible, judgy, #WIP500 goodness

  2. I stepped up to the bar ordered a screwdriver. Pulling out my driver’s licence, I pushed it towards the bartender. Glanced at it he said “Great fake licence, who do you use?”
    “It’s real,” I protested.
    “Sure it is. Here’s your orange juice sweetie.”
    It never ceased to surprise me that they never believed my true age. It wasn’t that I dressed like a sixteen-year old.
    A man sat down beside me. Tall, thin, with raven coloured hair, he smiled broadly at me.
    “Good orange juice?”
    “How do you know that it isn’t a screwdriver?”
    “I heard the bartender, honey. Want to switch it with mine? I haven’t touched it.”
    “Thanks,” I exclaimed sipping it. Just as I thought, I could taste the drugs he’d put in it.
    “Sixteen and never been kissed?” asked the man, looking for signs the drugs were working.
    “Yes,” I answered, trying to sound groggy.
    Of course I lied but he didn’t know that. He was just one of a great number of men who preferred young girls and it was payback time, although he didn’t know it.
    He hustled me out the side door and into the alley, where he put me into a waiting car. After some driving, he stopped and carried me from the car to his apartment. In the apartment he made his move, and I made mine sinking my teeth into his neck. He made a nice snack but I was hungry, I flew back to the bar for another.
    250 words


  3. I lay in my bed dreading the first day of my junior year. I turned sixteen over the summer,
    been confined to my house waiting for the change to happen. My parents kept a watchful eye over me every second of every day for the past three months. Nothing happened.

    Rex met me at the front of the school, he'd been the only constant in my life. My parents, and Rex.
    "Hey beautiful."
    "Hey Rex."
    There wasn't much else to say, so we walked to first period.
    Rex came home with me. We sat in my driveway, there had been some romance between us before all the chaos. Rex leaned in to kiss me, and my face flushed with excitement.

    Just as if life could seem normal, a bird flew by the windshield, as my hormones raced through my body, I changed into a cat, jumped out of the side window and took off it.
    Rex was sitting on my porch steps when I came walking back up the street. As a human. He stood to welcome me in his arms.

    "Glad to have you back." I could hear a bit of humor in his voice.
    "I'm going to die lonely." If I couldn't figure out how to control myself.
    "I'll be here for you." I wished I could tell him how I really felt. I needed him.
    "Rex, doesn't it suck. We are sixteen and never been kissed."
    Just then, I felt his lips on mine.

    247 words

  4. The line outside the house was surprisingly long. I counted twenty-seven people in it. All of them were male, like me. We were all dressed the same way, wearing a brown fedora, black socks, black shoes, and brown trench coats. We didn’t talk to each other. We all knew why we were in the line. It was Thursday, the day of the flash contest.

    The sexes were kept separate until they became sixteen years old, when the procreation law took effect. We wrote the law after the plagues that nearly wiped out the human race, for the purpose of re-populating the planet. For the flash contest the girl picked two of her girl-friends to keep her company. They sat on a sofa in the room of a house and watched as we walked through one at a time, stopping in front of the sofa, and flashing the three of them. We had to flash them properly. Walk up, stop, face the sofa, smile, open the trench coat, count to three, close the coat and walk off. That was the law.

    The three girls then picked one person from that line that would mate with the female. The two had to produce a child within the first year. If the union produced no child, the mating became invalid, and the entire process repeated until a union produced offspring.

    I stood in the line, hoping I was the first to mate with the girl who was sixteen and never been kissed.

    @249 Words

    1. I love this, I want to live in that world!

    2. Great entry. Love the dystopian vibe.

  5. “I don’t want to be an imposition. I understand men need their time and…”

    “I wouldn’t mind the company.”

    We walk the main street.

    “Where are you from Mr. Ashwin?”


    “I’ve always dreamed of going to London, but my parents don’t feel comfortable with me going at my age.”

    “Your age?”

    “Sixteen and never been kissed.” She sees my expression and continues, “I know I pass for at least twenty. I’m sorry if I make you uncomfortable.”

    “No, it’s alright, but I think we should be heading back, the train will be leaving soon.” I can no longer ignore the demands beating in my head. “I’ll see you back on the train,” I say and hand her my coat.

    “OK,” she says with a confused expression and takes my coat.

    I watch her stride down the street to the train station without turning back and I duck into the alley to find the source of the scent that enticed me away from her.

    He lay passed out in the shadows against the wall. His heavy snores confirm that there will not be a struggle. I squat next to him and without further hesitation rip the flesh of his filthy neck with my teeth. His blood fills my mouth. My eyes glance back to the entrance, hoping that she did not return, which she did not. I finish drinking of him and wipe my mouth with the already stained handkerchief in my pocket, then return to the train.

    248 Words

  6. Moira's family never really doubted her abilities, but she’d like to make a decision and not have it questioned. Just once.

    “Is Talia coming in tonight?” Steven asked.

    “No, I gave her the night off.”

    “What? Are you crazy? It’s a Friday before Spring Break. We need everyone here tonight.” Her brother huffed and puffed like a big Irish bear.

    “She’s taking her massage certification final. This is a big night for her. We’ll be fine.”

    “I’ll call Kallen and Kevin. Hopefully, Kallen won’t smell like sawdust and Kevin can scrub himself clean of horse.” Steven grimaced and picked up the phone.

    “Good luck with that.” Moira replaced the board and shrugged, dissatisfaction eating through her gut.

    “Hey, what is it with you? You on the rag or something?”

    “Wow, could you be any more disgusting, Steven? It’s a wonder you don’t have a girlfriend with that mouth of yours.”

    He flipped her off and turned back to the phone. Moira chaffed her arms and sniffed the air. Beyond the scents of beer and furniture polish, she detected the scent of storm, and excitement washed over her. Oh, knock it off! He’s gone and he’s not coming back.

    Aiden Westmorland.

    The summer she’d truly been sixteen and never been kissed, at least not until he came around. But he’d left that fall, two years older and college bound, and she never saw him again.

    So why do I keep pining over him? Moira growled and stomped out of the bar. I'm pathetic.

    250 ineligible #WIP500 words

  7. The French Connection:

    “Just last year my dream came true when Harrod’s took on my Spring line. It sold well and they contracted for the next two seasons.”

    “Looks like you’re living out your dream. You must not have much time for a social life. Boyfriend?” Jamie glanced at the woman's hand for the telltale signs of an engagement ring.

    Anya picked up her glass and rocked it in a circular motion. The red liquid coating the sides of the glass and flowing downward into a pool of garnet.
    “I’m sorry. That was too personal, wasn’t it?”

    “No, mon cherie. Not too personal. I’m just trying to find a way to tell you something that may risk our new friendship.”

    Jamie searched the woman’s eyes.

    “No boyfriend. I’m attracted to women. Et tu?”

    “No boyfriend.” It was all she could say before taking a very unladylike gulp of her wine. Glancing back to Anya, Jamie’s heartbeat ticked up as she took a deep breath before she spoke. “I was painfully shy as a kid and spent most of high school behind a computer screen. Pretty soon I was sixteen and never been kissed. I found my niche in college as a computer science major. But as one of the only women in my classes, I became one of the guys instead of dating them.” Jamie shrugged and finished the contents of her glass. The wine’s effects washed over Jamie giving her the courage to ask the question at the tip of her tongue.

    250 WIP words excluding title


    Lord Devis looked into Leona’s eyes and destroyed her world. She couldn’t hear herself think over the thrum of her own pulse, her heart felt like it was going to explode. Normally she had an enemy to direct this energy toward destroying and that solved the problem. This time there was just the tall nobleman in a perfectly tailored suit. The jacket alone must have cost worlds more than her entire wardrobe.


    The lord stepped closer to the girl. Suddenly Leona felt painfully plain. No, ugly. She felt like dirt in his exquisite manor. She shouldn’t be here. It was a mistake to come. She wasn’t good enough.

    “I apologize if I have been too forward, but I had to see you alone. I haven’t frightened you, have I?”

    Leona managed to shake her head. It felt like she was choking on her tongue. Speech was out of the question. Keeping her adrenal rush inside was wreaking havoc on her senses. Her peripheral vision was gone. Her legs felt like pudding. She could only pray she was still standing upright.

    “My people owe you much for slaying the beast. I owe you, so much.”

    When he cupped her chin with his thumb and forefinger it felt like he set her body on fire. His smoldering eyes came closer to hers. She wanted to scream. To run. She didn’t belong here.

    “Sixteen and never been kissed,” his breath mixed with hers. “Isn’t it time you thought about your own happiness?”

    250 words

  9. I was curious when I passed my daughter’s room and hear sniffles; I knocked on her door. She looked up at me, her eyes puffy, before she turned over, hugging a teddy bear.
    “What’s wrong, Eliza?”
    “I don’t buy that. You don’t cry over nothing. Come on, what’s wrong? Is there anything I can do?”
    She shook her head, drawing her knees to her chest. I sighed; she’s probably on her period.
    “Is this just hormones from your period?”
    “Dad!” she screeched, her face flaming red. “That’s so embarrassing!”
    “Well, you tend to cry when your hormones—“
    “Stop it! You want to know what’s wrong?” I nodded. “I’m sixteen and never been kissed! Now leave me alone!”
    “Well…what’s so bad about that? I didn’t have my first kiss until I was at least 18.”
    She huffed, wiping her eyes. “You wouldn’t understand. Monet just had her first kiss and she’s dating! You won’t let me even look at boys yet!”
    “Boys are bad news,” I told her, as my husband and I had said before. “Besides, you told me last week you didn’t know if you even liked boys!”
    She sighed dramatically. “That was before Monet had her first kiss.”
    Patting her shoulder, I stood trying not to laugh. “It’ll happen Eliza. Don’t rush anything.”
    I the tears started up again as I quietly closed her door. Shaking my head, I went to my office, figuring this hormonal teenage crisis would soon pass, as they had before.

    249 words

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


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