Thursday, June 13, 2013

#ThursThreads - The Challenge That Ties Tales Together - Week 74


Welcome back to the Weird, the Wild, & the Wicked and the second year of #ThursThreads flash fiction. So let's get started. It's Thursday again, and what should you be doing? Writing #flashfiction, that's what! Welcome to Week 74 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 74:

Previous Swing Shoman, cat aficionado, and astrology buff, Miranda Kate.

So now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.

The Prompt:

“Not even a little one?”

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. Mars sat at the bar, Bacchus noted his mug was empty, and refilled it for the Mars day before the king and queen did not go well sixth time. Mars picked up his mug, and drained it. Bacchus sighed and shook his head, “Not even a little one?”

    Mars frowned, looking at his empty mug, trying not to cry, “No. Not even a little one.”

    Pluto approached Bacchus, “I need a drink.” He looked at Mars, “He’s getting me depressed.”

    Bacchus put a mug before Pluto, and filled it with blood-red wine. “Ah, Pluto. You must forgive him. He’s had a bad day.”

    Pluto looked at the calendar behind the bar. “Oh. This was his day before the court wasn’t it?”

    Bacchus nodded. “He made his request of Jupiter and Juno this morning. It did not go well.”

    “Tell me what happened.”

    “Mars asked for a war. Any war. Even a little one. Between two tribes in South America. Tribes known to hate each other.”

    Pluto sighed. “Juno didn’t approve, did she.”

    “No.” Bacchus looked at Mars, great sorrow in his eyes. “She didn’t even approve of his little war.”

    Pluto put a brotherly arm around Mars shoulders, “Another drink for my friend, barkeep! On me!”

    Pluto wished that bitch Juno would die, or find a deity to run away with. Since she’d married Jupiter, the old man had just become pussy whipped, and being a deity on Earth had become no fun at all.

    246 Words

    1. Lol. Very witty take. Really enjoyed your godly tale. X

  2. Just One Chance

    Maia sighed. There had to be a better way to travel than with this unrelenting animosity between them. “Can’t you just give me a chance to prove I’m not who you think I am?”


    “Not even a little one? Just one chance to show you I didn’t try get your brother killed? None of us intended to stay with the Dryads. We just got carried away.”


    “It’s not typical!” She shook her head. “That’s the problem. Some of my sisters were flighty, but not all of them. And not me. The night we lost the baby happened a long time ago, but I still remember something being off about it.” She frowned as she searched her memories.

    “I’m sure the revels kept you plenty distracted. Perhaps you shouldn’t have imbibed so much.” Quinn’s tone held both contempt and disgust.

    “Shove off, you sanctimonious prick! I didn’t drink anything other than water that night. I knew my job.” She raised her chin and stared him down, meeting his blazing gaze. “And where were you when your brother searched for his fortune at the hands of my family? Why didn’t you do anything to stop your brother’s execution? I was stuck here. It’s not like I could have changed things.”

    “You could have come home.” He didn’t shout, but the venom in his voice chilled her more than the blizzard outside.

    “Don’t you think I would have if I could have?”

    “I don’t know, Princess. Your family’s motivations baffle me.”

    250 ineligible #WIP500 words without title

  3. Time Is Of the Essence

    Savannah James walked into Jake's office and sat down without waiting for an invitation.

    "I thought you understood, Ms. James. I need a day or two to think about it." Jake's eyes followed her long, shapely legs as she crossed them. She obviously works out, he thought.

    "It's you who doesn't seem to understand, Mr. Ward. We don't have a lot of time here."

    Jake kept his annoyance in check, partly because of the honest worry in her demeanor, and partly because of her soft brown eyes which looked back at him in that trusting way he wasn't used to in stunningly beautiful women.

    "Give me some proof of what you're claiming, Ms. James. You can't expect me to believe your story of a terrorist plot from the future without some evidence."

    Savannah James abruptly stood and turned to go. "I have no proof, Jake," she said, facing him again. "You'll have to trust me. I can stop them, but I can't do it alone. I need your help."

    " Give me something, Ms. James. A clue. Something."

    "I can't."

    "You can't give me a clue? Not even a little one?"

    She looked at him and, for the first time, gave him a wry grin. "I'm not a woman who's satisfied with 'little things', Jake, but you know that."

    What did she mean by that, Jake wondered. He'd never met her before yesterday.

    What he did know was that he was going with her.

    243 words (excluding title)

  4. Taking a deep breath, I stepped over the threshold; the aroma of supple leather warming my soul as my fingers swept over each beautifully designed handbag. And with a huge discount for today only, my resolve was fast dissolving. It was silly to have walked in. But there was no harm in looking, so the little voice kept telling me. But where was the little voice now? With the bag in one hand and credit card in the other, I was at the till. All I needed was that little voice to tell me to put the bag back. I didn’t need it. It didn’t match any of my outfits which meant buying an outfit just to match the handbag I didn’t need. The cashier smiled. This was my last chance to change my mind. I waited for the little voice which was always so eager for me to spend. I strained my ears for the voice but not even a little one spoke to me as the cashier took the bag and gift wrapped it. There was still time to walk away but I stood motionless as my beautiful purchase was placed into a glossy bag. Without hesitation, I handed over my credit card. I felt accusing eyes on me, berating me for being so irresponsible. I couldn’t afford it but neither could I ignore it. I left the shop but not a smile did I wear as my name is Millie and I am a shopaholic.



  5. The green sour appletini splattered across Sade Marquis’ leather jacket. Her favorite leather jacket. The woman next to her at the bar was clueless. And drunk. Not a good combination. Of course, the liquid grace of the hunk strolling Sade’s direction left every female in the place with spilled drinks. And damp panties.

    Sade watched the man’s approach through the mirror behind the bar. Ariel was better—and worse—than almonds dipped in melted dark chocolate served in melted sweet cream over brandy. The King’s Seducer. Sade smirked at the title. Oberon, king of the Fae court, first sent Ariel to seduce her at the ripe old age of sixteen. Her werewolf foster brother, Caleb, bit him in the ass so Ari had failed. He’d been trying to score ever since.

    “Hello, love.” He stopped right behind her, his body not quite pressed against hers. His warm breath tickled the hairs on the back of her neck. Damn. Tonight would be the night she’d worn her hair up. “You look fetching as always.”

    That last line was delivered with a quirked eyebrow and a sniff. Ari slipped his arms around her waist. She grabbed him by the short hairs through his designer jeans.

    He grimaced but remained game. “How ’bout a kiss?” Wincing, he added, “To make it all better?” She squeezed harder. His voice squeaked. “Not even a little one?”


    With a resigned sigh, he stepped away. “You win.”

    She dropped her hand and winked. “I always do.”

    250 words on the WIP (and another plot twist, *bwahaha*)


    1. lol "bit him in the ass..." Unexpected and mademe laugh. :-)

  6. “Not even a little one?”
    I shook my head.
    “¿Ni siquiera un pequeño?”
    “Nicht einmal ein wenig ein?”
    “wej loQ wa' chIm'e'?”
    Klingon…nice one!
    My daughter stomped her foot. She only knows one other language.
    “Nemmeno un po ' uno?”
    My 14 year old daughter’s clear blue eyes stared at me. There was a fire in them, defiance, daring me to deny her one more time. I stared back, my gaze hard as stone. She’s thinking…I can see the wheels turning in her head.
    I finally broke down laughing. “Too bad, little one. You need to brush up on your Italian, by the way, or Eleanor will have a fit. Your pronunciation was terrible.”
    Priscilla laughed, shaking her head. “Well, to be fair, she hasn’t taught me much. And my Klingon is way better.”
    I grabbed her into a hug, ruffling her hair.
    “dad, 'oH mev!”
    I rubbed harder. “Noogie!”
    She finally darted away from me, taunting me from the door to her room. “nice 'e' nID! Now, where’s my ice cream?”
    The bet was that she couldn’t ask me a question successfully in every language she’s studied. On that count, she won the bet.
    “vaj reH, puqbe'. vaj chu'. Get in the truck. And the answer is still no: you can’t pierce your bellybutton.”
    She groaned as I grabbed my keys. “Not fair.”
    “At least you get ice cream.”
    She sighed dramatically and pretended to pout. “I guess.”
    I laughed; dad wins again.

    249 words

  7. Hunger:

    An angry growl from her stomach reminded Kate of the late hour. She placed her hands on her hips as she stood from her desk and gave her fleshy side a pinch. An inch? No, not even a little one. Consequences of late nights curled up with nothing more than take out containers had taken its toll on her body. Kate sighed. Her girlfriends warned her about the curse of the fortieth birthday. Every carb you consume grabs hold of your ass and won't let go. Ever.

    The aromas from at least one dozen restaurants tempted her tastebuds during her walk from the office to her apartment; a great perk of living in the city that never sleeps. Shrugging, Kate resolved her ass was big but her career was bigger. With the acquisition of erotic author, Blaze Harrington, Angel Publishing was about to be the talk of New York publishing houses. That fact alone earned her an order of Pad Thai to-go at her favorite noodle house on Sixty-Third Street. Not that she wouldn’t give her meal up in a second for Mr. Tall, Dark and Sexy who moved into the apartment next door. She couldn’t remember the last time she had a shot in the shorts and her vibrator no longer reached her itch.

    Juggling the take-out bags and her keys, a deep voice dripping in southern charm filled her ears. “Smells delicious. May I give you a hand?”

    “How about two?”

    246 words from my SRE series WIP

  8. The overhead lights flickered in dingy bathroom as I refreshed my lipstick and watched Raquelle in the mirror. Her eyes wide, she brushed mascara on thickly, then did a duck face, then rearranged her generous breasts until they were barely covered by the lace tank.

    “So what happened with Sean?” I dug in my purse to cover my eagerness. “Thought you had a ‘special’ dinner planned.”

    “We did.” A haughty look now, like he was beneath her when actually he was a prince: six-pack, sexy hair and a gorgeous singing voice. “Turned out to be nothing.”

    “Nothing? You mean he didn’t…”

    “Well, yeah, he asked. Of course.” She kept her eyes on the mirror, preening her puffy blond hair. “But he gave me this plain ring that had a weird design, like hands or something. Creepy.” Disgust curled her lips.

    I stifled a smile. Justin must have talked to him. Was it possible she actually cut him loose finally?

    “So, no diamond. Not even a little one?” I faked the sympathetic BFF look all the while calculating how soon I could bump into Sean at Starbucks.

    “Not even a chip, the cheapskate. His accent’s probably not even real.”

    “No doubt,” I lied. Truly, the man’s brogue made me hot. “You can do so much better.”

    “I know.”

    As we walked out, I wondered what my big brother would want in return for convincing Sean she’d want a claddagh over some gaudy diamond. Whatever it was, it was worth it.

    249 words

    1. Doh! There is a typo! I need a 'the' before dingy and that makes it 250 words even. *facepalm *sorusty

  9. Oops! Here it is with the word count, etc.
    "Not even a little one?"

    "Especially not a little one. Am I going to have to reconsider my decision?"

    "No. No. I can do this."

    "Your gluttony isn't going to get the better of you?"

    "No. I can keep to the scheduled meals."

    "And no snacking?"

    "Only what's on the approved list."

    "This isn't going to easy, you know. You and your partner will have to be accountable to each other every step of the way. I'm not going to see you again until you are done."

    "We are not going to disappoint you."

    "Okay. I'm still going to send you to Earth, but you are NOT to eat the inhabitants - not even a little one."

    117 Words

  10. A Commitment

    “The place on Cedar Street closed?” Tad’s eyebrows raised and he tilted his head.

    “A coffee house opened on Cherry a while back. It’s pretty good.”

    Candy’s childhood crush was even cuter than she remembered. The way he listened had her convinced, he was just as pleased to see her. Excitement danced across her skin. Her body shook and her robe slipped, revealing her shoulder.

    He reached out and caressed the tattoo now peeking out. “When did you get this?”

    “Slowly over the last year.”

    “That’s a commitment.” He pulled her robe down a smidge. “How far does it go?”

    “See for yourself.” She stood and let her robe slide to the floor. The shyness that had once made her jump from his kiss no longer a problem, she turned sideways and gave him a full view of the rose and skull tattoo covering the right side of her body.

    His lips pressed together and he leaned in. “It’s really well done.” His finger traced along her rib, right under her breast. “I don’t have one.”

    “Not even a little one?” She wiggled under his teasing fingers.

    He stood and pressed his palm against her cheek. “A lot has changed since I left.” He leaned in an inch from her lips, dragging her robe up over her shoulders. “This time I intend to make you mine.”

    “I've always been yours.”

    230 words

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

  12. All so good! I was too busy to participate, but it was fun dropping by and reading them, Siobhan.


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