Thursday, July 25, 2013

#ThursThreads - The Challenge That Ties Tales Together - Week 80

Welcome back to the Weird, the Wild, & the Wicked. Wow, where did half the year go? It's Thursday again, so what should you be doing? Writing #FlashFiction, that's what! Welcome to Week 80 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 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 80:

Corset goddess, Kraken connoisseur, and piratical adventure author, Maureen O. Betita.

And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.

The Prompt:

“Leave it alone.”

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 had been over 50 years since that fateful day, but Marcus hadn't forgotten, and to him it still seemed like only days ago.

    He sat in the shadows, his pocket knife carving a piece of wood, chipping away at it just to pass the time. When would he be here? Three hours had passed and nothing. Nothing? It was too quiet around here, something was definitely going on. Marcus quietly tiptoed backwards, and crouched. He felt himself changing into his other self, other being. It didn't hurt, but to someone watching, it would look like it did. His back arched, his nails grew, his fangs appeared, hair sprouted everywhere. He ripped through the clothes he had on, leaving them in shreds.

    There was a noise to the left of him, the sound of a struggle, then something was thrown from the bushes and landed in a heap infront of him. 'Greol', Marcus whispered, when he realised the man he had been waiting for was here. 'It's been 50 years too long'. Another wolf jumped out from the bushes and stood over Greol's limp body, ready to attack.

    'Leave it alone', Marcus grinned. 'This ones mine'.

  2. Word count 196


    apologies lol!

  3. Back in my current WIP, and this scene happens before previous scenes with Sade and the dragon.


    “Leave it alone.”

    “Don’t you mean leave you alone?”

    Sade stared at the elegant man. His pale blue eyes shimmered like sunlight on a clear mountain lake. His close-cropped hair matched the faint traces of shadow beard gracing his ruggedly refined features. Long, nimble fingers sparkled with jewels and the expensive watch on his wrist cost more than she made in a year. Hell, the suit he wore probably equaled a month’s salary.

    “Look, Mr. Constantine, I don’t care who or what you are, this is my investigation. Your nanny—”

    “The royal nanny, Agent Marquis. And she was taken in front of the prince and princess.”

    He radiated heat but Sade resisted the urge to step away, to seek cooler air to breathe. “What did they see?”


    Sade glowered at him. “Nothing? You realize that withholding information in a federal investigation is a felony, Mr. Constantine, right?”


    “Excuse me?”

    “I would prefer you call me Nikos.”

    “Forget it, slick. I’m here on official business.”

    “But you do go off duty, Sade.”

    “That’s Agent Marquis to you.”

    “We will have dinner, Sade.”

    “Not happening.” She pivoted, retreating from the room. Sade preferred to think of it as a tactical retreat since it wasn’t smart to piss off a powerful magick. If she stayed, she would. Guaran-damn-teed.

    Nikos watched her, every synapse in his body firing. She was a jewel he would have—sooner or later. He was a dragon. Dragons always horded treasure.

    247 much needed WIP words!

  4. “Why does he hate you?”

    Ric released her hand. “Leave it alone.”

    She shivered at the loss of warmth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

    He let out a ragged sigh. “No, it’s me who should apologize. It’s not your fault my brother is the way he is. It’s our father’s. You see, Felix more like Domnu than I am, and he’s pure of blood, not a cross breed like I am, but I am older, and therefore first in line for the throne. He resents me.”

    Ana’s brow furrowed. “What throne?” She decided not to ask about the “cross-breed” comment. Ric clearly wasn’t comfortable talking about his mother.

    “Soon it will be time for my father to retire as Ruler of the Dark Forest. When that time comes, I’m supposed to take his place. Felix doesn’t think I spend enough time here, or with Father, to deserve such a position.”
    It took his words a few moments to sink in. “So, you’re a prince?”

    Ric’s laughter surprised her. “You could say that.”

    Brenna’s words returned to mock her. The wolf whelp knows his way through the forest and may be the key you seek.

    Could Ric be the prince destined to save Briar Rose? The one to offer her true love’s first kiss? If he was Prince Charming, and destined to save Briar Rose, where did that leave her, and her growing feelings for him?

    An icy thought solidified in her mind.

    It leaves you heartbroken and alone.

    250 WIP words

    1. Okay, I'm already feeling sad about this...

  5. Intervention

    The sound of a single gunshot rumbled through the normally quiet neighborhood, leaving all in its wake wondering from which house it had come.

    “Now, you just sit there and shut up, Alice. There’s nothing you can say that I want to hear.” Dean said, screaming rage into her face.

    Alice gave no response. She just quietly bowed her head.

    “I saw your lips pressed to his. I saw his hand on your ass and your hand down his pants! I heard his grunts as he thrust into you behind the dumpster. What do you have to say for yourself?”

    Alice quietly ignored his every word, never raising her eyes from the floor.

    “Cocaine turned you into everyone’s strawberry, Alice - just another whore. I told you to leave it alone, but you wouldn’t. You said you’d stay clean, but you couldn’t. You said you’d stay away from those people, but you didn’t. Now you’ve made me help you. You’ll never do those terrible things again, Baby.” Dean swallowed the cries gurgling up from the pit of his throat. “I love you, Alice.”

    Dean dropped to his knees in the blood swirled upon the floor at her feet to end her final intervention. He held the barrel between his teeth and then disturbed the neighbors one last time.

    Greg Nance - 218 Words

  6. "Sit down."

    "No, thanks. What the hell do we do now?"

    "We leave it alone."

    "What? The guy's about to be sentenced for aiding and abetting."


    "And we've got proof he's the wrong guy."

    "You've got a copy of a birth certificate that SAYS he's the wrong guy. He might be the right guy."

    "Could we maybe let the judge puzzle that one out?"

    "You're no attorney."

    "I'm not an accessory to perjury, either."

    "Who's committing perjury?"

    "You are."

    "In that?"

    "In that you swore every piece of data we uncovered in this investigation told us he was lying when he said he was Danyal Muhammad. That we knew he was born Rashid Unar, in Yemen. That you'd inform the court if anything emerged to the contrary."


    "So now you've seen his birth certificate. With his mom's fingerprint. And his baby fingerprint. And his birthday. And his birthplace: LA. And the name Danyal Muhammad."

    "No, I haven't."

    "You haven't?"


    "You haven't seen THIS notarized birth certificate? The one I'm holding?"


    "The one I'm WAVING in front of your face? RIGHT NOW?"

    "Haven't seen it."

    "What DO you think I'm showing you?"

    "You're not showing me anything, because you're not here. You're home sick. Nobody opened that FedEx you got. We tried to reach you before sentencing, to confirm no new evidence had come in on this case. You didn't answer. Now sit down. Or you die. Tonight."

    He sat down.

    "Leave it alone."

    (247 words from @bytoropov)

  7. Lily Sinclair shouldered her overnight pack and settled her goggles over her face as she resumed her trek into the gently falling snow. Extreme camping at Christmas on Mt. Charleston hadn’t seemed like such a bad idea in October, but the weather proved to be more challenging than she’d expected. Too late to turn back now.

    She’d already been hiking for four hours and the sky grew darker with each step up the slopes. Her crampons crunched in the crusty snow and icy wind chapped her face below the goggles. She had a funny feeling she’d be seeing her brother soon, and no matter what her reason told her, she couldn’t shake the certainty. Linus has been dead for two years. You won’t see him tonight no matter what extremes you go to. But she couldn’t leave it alone.

    Lily crested a ridge that should have given her a breathtaking view of Las Vegas, but the blizzard obliterated visibility beyond a few feet. That way should be east. She pulled out her compass and swept the glass free of snow as the needle steadied, pointing to her left.

    East meant “down”, “safety”, and “friends”, but Lily wanted “magic”, “peace” and “solitude”. Surely God or whoever would grant her this wish on Christmas. I just want to see Linus again. She turned over her right shoulder and pushed on, determined to find the magic of life she’d lost when her twin brother died.

    241 ineligible #WIP500 words

    1. Oh, very nice...and poignantly sad.

    2. that story made me sad... still I can't read the prompt without being reminded of a scene from The Life of Brian where a crowd gathers to listen to a speech and the wife is berating her husband for picking his nose. That brings a smile to my face every time. :-)

  8. “Leave it alone.”
    “Leave what alone?”
    “Don’t play games, I know Thomas gets married today.”
    “Not if I can help it,” I answered.
    “You have to move on, Kira.”
    “I can’t. I think I could love him, Andrew.”
    “Do you? Or are you stuck in a rut, thinking that you must win. I know you Kira, you feel things deeply and you love with all your heart. Any man would be lucky to have you.”

    I thought about what Andrew said and wondered what had been wrong with me that I’d never thought about Andrew romantically. Andrew had stunning blue eyes that he hid behind glasses. His hair black as coal to his shoulders was tucked behind his ears. Thin and nerdy looking, I had overlooked him until now. He was my friend and confident. He supported my wishes and always tried to make me happy. Why had I never really looked at him? I was an idiot, seeing, but not seeing. He was the perfect Clark to my Lois.

    I turned to him and asked, “Would you?”
    “Would I what?”
    “Want me?”
    “Kira, I’ve been at your side for years. Your friend, your confident, just hoping you’d turn and look my way. Of course I want you.”
    “You have?” I asked surprised.
    “I have.”
    “Yes, Kira?”
    “Would you consider going on a date, with a silly girl who couldn’t see the forest, for the trees?”
    “I’d like that, but what about Thomas?”
    “Thomas who?”

    249 words

  9. “Momma, my neck itches,” Lizzy complained and reached up to scratch at it, but her mother swatted her hand away.

    “Leave it alone. If you scratch it you’ll only make it worse.”

    They were walking through the park, heading for the zoo and her promised ice cream cone. Lizzy knew that’s where they were going, because that’s where they always went on Sunday’s in the summer. She let go of her mother’s hand to run ahead, but the moment she let go the itching got worse, and she reached up to scratch it again.

    “I told you to leave it alone,” Momma scolded and snatched her hand away.

    “Why does it itch though?”

    “Her mother didn’t say anything, just gave her a sad little smile. “I’m sorry, baby. I was hoping you wouldn’t remember.”

    The itching was terrible now, and something tickled Lizzy’s chest. She looked down to see there were terrible red stains on her favorite dress, growing wider by the second.Remember? Remember what?

    Pain hit her and she screamed as it all came back. She’d been walking home in the rain. Brakes, screaming, and then…here. The world around them shimmered and started to fade, and soon it was just the two of them, alone in the dark.

    “Momma?” Lizzy clung to her mother’s hand, but now she knew that nobody called her Lizzy anymore. Not since her Momma had died and left her alone.

    “I’ve been waiting for you, baby. It won’t hurt for long, I promise.”

    250 words

  10. In the woods


    “Leave it alone”

    “But what if it’s alive?”

    “Just leave it ok?”

    “Can’t just leave it to die.”

    “Well what the hell do you think we’re going to do with it? You’re no doctor or vet or anything…”

    “Yeah but, we could cover it up; I could take off my coat. We could get help…”

    “We don’t want to be here if that thing wakes up.”

    “It ain’t gonna do anything; look at it, it’s just lying here…”

    “How in the hell would you know? That thing could wake up at any moment, and then what? You gonna talk to it? Tell the thing we shot it by mistake?”

    “You shot it.”

    “Hell yeah I shot it; you see that thing?”


    “Well, does it look like it would understand you anyway?”

    “I don’t know…”

    “Look man, we just need to get out of here; leave it to the cops or the feds or whatever.”

    “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

    “Damn straight; let’s go.”

    “Hey, you hear that?”

    “Hear what?”


    “Fuck. You think he had friends?”

    “I don’t know; maybe?”

    “Shit. Ok. Bobby?”

    “Yeah Clyde?”



    187 words

  11. “Leave it alone!”
    I glared at my husband. “It itches!”
    “The doctor said not to shove anything down your cast.”
    “I’m sorry, but you try having this damn cast on your leg and see how it feels.”
    Jacoby shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. That’s his signal for ‘you’re annoying me’. Sorry. I’m the one who broke his leg. I’m the one with the itchy cast. I should be the one to deal with said itchy cast.
    “When that thing comes off tomorrow and the doctor has to treat an infected scratch, don’t come crying to me.”
    Frowning, I put the coat hanger away. “Who pee’d in your Cheerios?” I asked, grabbing my crutches. I followed him into the kitchen.
    He shrugged, opening the cupboard near the sink. His muscular shoulders rippled as he grabbed a glass and went to the fridge. There are advantages to being married to an EMT. Dirty minds.
    ”I don’t want you to have problems with your leg. It’s bad enough you broke it; let’s not get an infection, too!”
    “It was one time, Jack. Having helped out in the cast room a time or two, I know what might happen. But it’s not very likely. I’m going to go to my office. You go take a nap.”
    “Fuck you!” he growled.
    “Maybe tonight!”
    I closed my office door and sat on my couch, elevating my aching leg on a chair. Yes, I will fuck him later tonight. If he’s cheerful.

    250 Words

    1. And the leg isn't infected... Hmmm, sex with a cast on...


    “The operation begins at 0100 hours. Be ready.”

    The Amazonian woman in the tight skirt suit tossed her platinum blonde hair back and stood up from the table. In the dim lighting it might seem she was flirting with the silver haired drifter with his boots up by his bourbon. From there at the table it wasn’t hard to see the sly wink he returned didn’t mean anything to either of them.

    As the goddess of the public house took her leave, the younger man at their table ran his hands through his cropped black hair. He sighed and fidgeted before planting his elbows on the table and hunkering back down.

    “Nervous?” The drifter’s voice had a rasp befitting the half pack of cigarettes he’d finished that evening.

    “Wha? No, secure compound with thirty guards is nothing! It’s just…”

    The younger man glanced toward the door, while the other reached past his boots for his whiskey.

    “Don’t let the woman distract you, kid. She’s heartless.”

    “That’s not true!”

    The freshman nearly leapt to his feet, but composed himself when his senior didn’t even look up from his drink.

    “That’s not true.” He repeated. “She does this to help people, to protect those who can’t protect themselves.”

    “Bullshit. She does it for the payday the same as the rest of us. She and I have been in this business near twenty years now. Bleeding hearts don’t last that long.”

    “You’re wrong. I think—“

    “Leave it alone.”

    246 words

  13. Tiffany Smith plopped down on one of the red benches set on the outskirts of Harper's Playground. She set her purse down beside her and gave a great sigh, leaning her aching back up against the bench itself. Her eyes closed.
    "Tough day?"
    A voice from beside her startled her, causing her to jump a little bit in her seat.
    "Oh...sorry if I scared you..."
    The voice belonged to a woman with bobbed brunette hair and grey eyes. She held out her hand to Tiffany. "I'm Fae."
    Tiffany took it, and shook. "Tiffany."
    Fae smiled. "So." She indicated to the many children playing on the playground. "Which one's yours?"
    Tiffany scanned the many young faces. She pointed out at the giant yellow slide and the small girl heading down it. "That's Lily. She's my youngest." Another face caught her attention. She pointed to that one as well. "And that one over there picking up...what the heck is that...Liam, honey, leave it alone, you don't know where that's been!"
    When her son put down whatever it was that he had picked up, Tiffany continued. "That's Liam. He's very curious about things."
    Fae chuckled lightly. "Well, aren't they all?"

    200 words @bookwormattack

    1. I have a wicked mind, I want to know what he picked up...

  14. The Wolf
    By Lisa McCourt Hollar

    It was born at midnight, all teeth and fur… and hungry for blood. It climbed from its mother’s belly after having eaten through her womb. Even then it was hungry, so it picked her bones free. Watching the creature, Kylee reached out to pet it, but Nanna slapped her fingers back.

    “Leave it alone.”

    Kylee watched the creature feed and then studied its mother. Tara had been her sister. Kylee had been jealous when she’d been chosen for the Quickening. To be the mother of the wolf god was an honor. Tara hadn’t thought so. She’d screamed while its seed was planted.

    When it was done eating, the creature looked at Kylee, growling slightly. Kylee felt something stir inside of her. It sniffed at her, sticking its nose close to her sex. Then Nanna shoed it away.

    Kylee watched it leave, disappointed. “Will it come back?”

    “When it reaches the end of its life it will return to choose a new vessel.”

    “So he can be reborn.” Kylee felt the yearning again, a combination of fear, hope and desire.

    “By then you will be very old. You will be Nanna.

    Kylee looked crestfallen. “Oh.”

    “Don’t be so disappointed, child. The wolf only exists when the moon is full and then it must feed. You do not want him here those nights.”

    “And the other nights?”

    “He will take another form, one more pleasing than the wolf, though no more tame and sometimes more dangerous. Those nights he is a man.”

    Word Count: 250

  15. Age of Reason

    She stood by the window, honey hair turned red by the setting sun. Beautiful, sweet-natured, and endlessly curious, she offered distraction he could neither afford nor bear to quash. If she’d been a boy, he’d have taken her on as an apprentice. She bent over one of the tables, proving irrevocably that she could never pass for male.

    “This piece has a flaw.” She spoke her mind, one reason he allowed her to plague him.

    He didn’t look up. “Impossible.”

    “First, you’ve taught me nothing is impossible. Second, no man is perfect. Third, the pressure of the machine will turn that tiny bubble into a crack, and whoever is operating the contraption will, at the very least, suffer great injury. Unless, of course, you allow me to fix it for you.” She picked up the gear.

    “Leave it alone.”

    “Then promise me one thing.”

    He continued to focus on the annealing process for the curved shaft. “What’s that?”

    “You’ll be the one to demonstrate to his lordship your grand new invention. That way, no innocent will be harmed by your hubris.”

    She spoke of his possible death with such great cheer that he finally set aside his work and examined the piece.

    “Bugger. You’re right.”

    She laughed. “I know.”

    “I don’t suppose you’d cut your hair and bind your breasts.”

    “You wouldn’t like it if I did.”

    He sighed. “To hell with convention. Be my apprentice.”

    She snorted. “I’ll be your assistant, and you’ll pay.”

    And so he would.

    249 words

  16. [Revised to fit word format]

    I opened the door and let Beauty in. Beauty was wet and muddy and I tried not to get mad. I cried. Then I laughed.

    "You should probably leave it alone," my sister said of the odd box I found in the attic. "What if there's a ward, dark magic?"

    "Why would there be a ward?" I said to her over the telephone, but I left it alone. Instead, I walked Beauty. We went to the pond. Beauty barked at a squirrel and I laughed. Back at the house there was a scream, but it was only the TV so I got beauty and we went inside.

    "Why did you leave the TV on?" Charlie said.

    "I was walking Beauty. Did you know there's a box in the attic?"

    "There are lots of boxes in the attic, Jess."

    "Well this one may harbor some magic, according to Marley. She said not to touch it."

    Charlie scratched his head. "Let's have a look."

    Beauty began barking when we got to the attic. "She barks at everything, Jess."

    I watched Charlie as he examined the box. I imagined him being blown to bits.

    "Maybe Marley's right about the magic," I said.

    Charlie got it open. There was dust, but no magic.

    Beauty curled up in a corner and watched me. Charlie went downstairs and I cried. I peeked in the box. There were some old letters and photos.

    "How magical is that?" I said to Beauty.

    245 words

    1. I could really see a story evolving from this...

  17. “Leave it alone!” Kale bellowed wrenching the bottle of whiskey from the hand sliding it down the bar. He blinked a few times adjusting his eyesight to the now dark saloon. One oil lamp still burned on a far wall. A black figure stood between him and the light and he blinked again until the shadow transformed into Sharon Dana.

    Her lips pressed into a hard line as deep wrinkles creased her brow. “This the plan for the rest of your life?”

    “This is it.” He lifted the bottle to his lips and sucked down a deep draw the burn of alcohol the only thing he still felt.

    “It’s been five years, Kale.”

    Her shoulders sank. He flinched at her posture of disappointment. Maybe he had a few feelings yet. “Five or five hundred, don’t make a difference. They’re still dead.” He gave a sharp nod toward the door. “Better run along home. Town might frown at the schoolmarm hangin’ around the local saloon.”

    Lifting the bottle for another swig he stopped mid-air. Sharon covered his hand with one of her own. Yeah, he still had feelings, feelings he’d prayed died when he married her sister. But long before he and Jill there was Kale and Sharon.

    “I don’t care what this town thinks. Never did.”

    Kale tipped his hand so hers glided off like fine silk.

    “That why ya left in a hurry after havin’ my baby, leavin’ your sister to marry me and raise the girl.”

    248 words

  18. “Who is she, Dio?” The woman at the far end of the bar commandeered every rational thought in my brain and a few less-than-rational ones. I wanted her. Simple enough and uncomplicated on a level I understood. But beneath the desire came something calm. Deep. Enduring. “I feel like I know her somehow.”

    “A human?” Dio dismissed her with a wave of his wine bottle. “You’d have to actually spend time in this world to know humans. They have lifespans like mosquitos. Here one moment and gone the next.”

    “Not this one.” I needed to look away before she noticed me staring. But some piece of me demanded I study her. Memorize her. She was the key to something. Maybe the something I felt was missing.

    “What did you just say?”

    Dio’s sharp tone dragged my attention from the woman.

    “Did I say something?”

    “Yes.” He nodded, slow and deliberate. “You did. You said she’s key.”

    “Key? No. The key. I said that out loud?” Great Zeus, she affected me even more than I realized. “I didn’t mean to.” Like a drug, awareness of her flooded my body. “Are you sure I don’t know her?”

    I watched him closely enough to see the moment his eyes flared.

    “I know her, don’t I?”


    “Damn it, Dio.”

    “For Zeus’ sake, Eros, leave it alone and trust there are moments you don’t want to remember.”



    “You said remember.”

    “I didn’t.” He slammed the bottle down and stood. “And you don’t.”

    250 words

  19. #ThursThreads is now CLOSED. Thank you to everyone who came to write today and I hope to see you next week. :)


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