Thursday, December 19, 2013

#ThursThreads - The Challenge That Ties Tales Together - Week 100

Welcome back to the Weird, the Wild, & the Wicked. Are you ready for the holidays yet? I'm not, but that's what makes it entertaining. And even better, it's Thursday today, so what should you be doing? Writing #FlashFiction, that's what! Welcome to Week 100 (*GASP*) 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 100:

Spanking queen, F/F romance author, and naughtiest elf of them all, Anastasia Vitsky.

And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.

The Prompt:

“I can’t go with you.”

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. Always

    I can’t go with you
    I don’t know how
    You can smuggle me in your case.
    I know you’re laughing
    For it’s written on your face
    But with all the Christmas
    You’re taking home
    It fills your bag and purse
    There’s no more room
    For me

    What, you think I’m not serious?
    That I wouldn’t go with you?
    I’d go in a heartbeat
    By plane, by train, by boat
    But you have your life now
    And you need your space.
    We’ll talk face to face
    I’ll see you next year
    My darling daughter
    You’ll be here always
    Within my heart.
    A call away
    If you need me
    I’ll always be there
    No distance too great
    No distance to far
    For I am your mother

    126 words

  2. “What does the card say?”

    “Making up for lost time.” No signature, just the statement.

    “Oooh, romantic.”

    Could Aiden have beaten me here to deliver the flowers? If so, he’d picked all her favorites. But something didn’t ring true. Moira didn’t recognize the writing, but it had been eighteen years since she’d seen anything he’d written.

    “Wow. These are amazing. Who delivered them again?”

    “He didn’t leave his name. He just said they were for you and he’d be back later.”

    Aiden had agreed to show up that evening. Maybe he’d had them stashed in his truck. Why didn’t he give them to me then? She hadn’t seen them in the cab. The flowers had to be from someone else.

    “Well, they sure are pretty.” Moira set the vase aside and tried to refocus on work.
    “So do you have any sexy plans tonight I should know about?” Talia winked as she shoved some of the used coffee litter into the trash.

    “No.” Moira laughed. “Don’t be fooled by the flowers. I don’t know who they’re from.”

    “So, did you want to catch movie, then? I heard the new Thor movie is awesome.”

    “I can’t go with you tonight. I have a friend coming over.”

    “Oh, a friend, huh?”

    “Not like that.” Moira grimaced. Talia already knew the story. “Aiden showed up today.”

    “What?” All the humor left Talia’s face. “Oh no. No, no, no. You can’t do this to yourself, Moira. What is he doing back in town?”

    249 ineligible WIP words from Cloudburst #3

  3. Shaking my head, I snubbed out my cigarette and blew the smoke between my lips. Looking around, I wiped a hand down my face and started walking, pulling my suitcase behind me. A blast of cold air hit my skin as I walked into the airport and I shivered.

    “Take your shoes off, sir.”

    Grateful when the almost-but-not-quite full body exam was over, I checked my bag and then went in search of coffee. Caffeine was always the balm for a solo trip halfway across the world, right?

    I can’t go with you.

    I know. I’ll go for you.

    Staring at gate 19, waiting for my flight to Chicago, I ran my hand down his picture. I promised to bring him pictures of Paris. I just hope he’s here to see them.

    132 Words

  4. “About tonight.” Len paused by my desk. Her throat worked to get the words out, to commit. “I can’t go… with you.”

    Five simple words. No big deal. Until the hesitation on the last two registered and caved my soul in with blunt force.

    “You didn’t think to give me more than—” Keys in hand, I glanced at my watch. “Five minutes’ notice?”

    She winced. “Sorry.”

    “We planned this.” Fucking hell. Before she saw anything I wanted hidden, I spun and headed out of the station.

    “Jason, wait.” She trailed me into the baking summer heat.

    “You’re alive and damn if that isn’t a reason to celebrate.”

    “I know. I’m sorry.” Stepping up behind me, her hands locked around my waist. Her warm cheek rested against my spine.

    The familiarity of the move built the ache inside me. We trusted each other enough to blur the lines on our friendship. But we never crossed them.

    I hadn’t admitted how almost losing her changed everything for me.

    “Please trust me when I say you don’t want to be with me right now.” She sniffled.

    Every muscle in me tightened to the point of snapping, but I held back from turning in her arms.

    “Are you sure it isn’t the other way around?”

    “No.” I felt her shrug.


    “I don’t know the answers, Jason.” Her hold on me fell away. “I only know I’m a wreck and I want to be with you more than a friend should.”

    249 WIP words

  5. An emotion filled story Cara. wonderfully done

  6. "Oh my gosh, Meshi, you can't be serious!"

    "I know I promised, Bex, but something's come up."

    She was constantly doing that, backing out of going to the Cavern with me. Promising me then disappointing me.

    "What is it this time, Meshi?"

    She fell back into the passenger seat after starting to get out of my new red convertible, spilling her peppermint latte all over herself and onto the console.

    "Oh, I'm sorry, Bex, I'm just so stressed."

    I grabbed a towel from the back seat where we put our picnic basket and wiped up while I tried to figure out why my best friend was stressed. She'd mentioned it a few times, but hadn't offered an explanation. I knew everything that was going on in her life, or thought I did. But here it was right before Christmas and she was a zillion miles away.

    "What's going on, Meshi? You're weirding me out."

    Meshi gave me a weird look, but she looked as though she was finally ready to tell me what was stressing her so.

    "I can't go with you, Bex. Spencer is playing at the Cavern tonight with his band."

    "That's your reason, Meshi? I thought you two were okay."

    She got very silent and I waited.

    "I'm pregnant, Bex."

    218 words

  7. “Have you turned down offers, Charlie?”

    Charlie froze.


    “It doesn't matter.”

    Sam threw back the blanket, lowered his feet to the floor and leaned his elbows on his knees.

    “It wasn't what I wanted, so I said no.”

    “Only the once?”

    Charlie looked away. “You know how I feel about New York. If I don't want to go, that's my decision.”

    Sam ran his fingers through his hair. Charlie put a hand over his and whispered that it was okay. Sam straightened, turning to face him, and Charlie was shocked by the anguish on his face.

    “Why didn't you say anything?”

    “Like I said, it's my career and my decision.”

    Sam studied his face for a long time. “You didn't think I'd go with you.”

    “It doesn't matter—”

    “It does. You thought…what? I'd just say congratulations and wave goodbye?” Sam leapt from the bed and retreated to the bathroom. He emerged in running gear. “You didn't even give me a chance to support you. You didn't think I would.”

    Sam stared into his eyes and then turned to leave.


    Sam stopped, but didn’t turn. “Come with me.”

    Charlie couldn’t have stood, let alone ran. He barely managed to whisper, “I can’t go with you.”

    The door closed softly and Sam ran down the hall. Charlie wanted a do-over, but could he lie to Sam's face? If he couldn't sell it that very well could be the end; if he could, the guilt would poison everything anyway.

    249 words

  8. On the balcony, Sade faced the frigid, ice-capped waves of Lake Superior. A dark aura radiated around her. Loneliness. Despair. Both swamped her. Sinjen hated the words he had to utter, wanted to spit them into some black void to be swallowed and forgotten.

    “I can’t go with you.”

    “I know.”

    Sinjen reached for her but she jerked away. “Sade, look at me.”

    She twisted her head and lights glinted in her bottle-green eyes. Her chin lifted in a show of defiance he’d come to know so well. “You aren’t invited anyway.”

    As if that would stop him? Nothing could keep them apart—nothing but the demand for his appearance at the Conclave. After she received the call about Caleb, he’d planned to accompany her. Until Mathias issued the Conclave’s edict. He curled a lock of her mahogany hair around his index finger and gave a little tug. “Come here.”


    He stepped closer, only relaxing once she turned toward him. Her arms circled his waist and she buried her face against his neck. “I’ll catch up to you. When I’m done.”

    “Yeah. Sure.”

    Sade hadn’t cursed once, a tell-tale sign of her depressed mood. It worried him so he prodded. “Don’t do anything until I get there. I’ll take care of it.”

    Her head jerked back, anger flaring in her gaze. “The hell with that. I don’t need your fucking help.”

    “Ah, there’s the woman I love.”

    “Fuck you.”

    “Yes. You will. Right now.”

    248 words I couldn't resist even though I said I wasn't writing until after the holidays. LOL

  9. He strolled through the town. It looked like all the others he had seen on his journeys down the coastline. The only difference was the season. He breathed in the cooling air and in his mind he saw the frost glittering on the leaves remaining in the trees outside the window. She gripped his hand. The mound of her belly heaved as their son fought to be out of her womb and into the world. It was his second happiest memory.

    Jerome screamed into the world. He was healthy. The nursemaid wiped the fluids from him and handed him to Reynard, who hesitantly took him into his arms. With a great smile he looked down at his beloved wife, Fine. Her skin glistened with sweat. She smiled back. He brought Jerome into her arms and kissed her forehead.

    “I can’t go with you,” she whispered.


    “You’re going on an adventure. I have the baby now.”

    “I don’t understand. This…you son of a bitch, get out of my head. Quit playing with me.”

    “Oh how sweet, your lovely baby boy is born and now is dead. The darling memories you have of your family.”

    “Leave them alone.”

    “I did, don’t you remember? Now let’s feed.”

    205 Words

  10. I shook my head as if trying to change what I was hearing through the headset, his words resounding in my ears. Only time for one.

    Of course. The gods required a sacrifice, I should've known.

    "Roger, that."

    I stared as the tiny cave collapsed around us, burying our new found artifacts beneath rock and black dust.

    I pulled my son closer onto my lap. He was small for a five year old and still young enough to allow me the privilege of cuddling him. I tried not to look at the hands that were already reaching through the small opening for the one who would be going up. Even now I could feel the need for fresh oxygen burning inside my lungs.

    Cold tears streamed down the length of my cheeks and landed on the rim of his dusty and well-worn Red Sox ball cap. I could feel his gentle breathing against my chest as I said a silent prayer that he would be okay.

    "I love you, Daniel. Always remember that."


    "I can’t go with you, Daniel. It's my job to stay here."

    His voice cracked. "Your job?" My heart broke.

    "My job as your Mom."

    My throat constricted so tightly that I couldn't say anything more even if I wanted to as I lifted him up to the safety of the surface.

    His tiny hand slipped from mine as he disappeared into the light above. I whispered goodbye, then darkness took back its own.

    249 Words

  11. "I can't go with you."

    Rob glanced up from thumbing shells into the clip for his Beretta. "I don't expect you to." Click.

    Cathy shoved her favorite picture of her daughter, Rachel, smiling wide in her blue graduation robe. "Would she want this? Think about what you're doing!"

    Rob slammed the filled clip into the butt, cocking it back to chamber a round. "We'll never know what she wants. Not anymore." The Beretta slid into its shoulder holster, and he slipped on his jacket over it.

    Cathy grabbed his shoulder. "Look at me! If you do this, you can't come back." Wet tracks twisted down her cheeks. "We have to move on."

    "You don't understand!"

    "What don't I understand?" Cathy shouted. "That our daughter was murdered? That every night I pray for my baby to come back, and every morning I have to force myself to even open my eyes because I know my prayers weren't answered? Is that what I don't understand?"

    She fell to her knees, clutching Rachel's forever smiling face to her bosom. "The only thing in this world that helped me stay sane was you." She gazed up at him. "I'm sorry I couldn't do the same for you."


    Cathy held up her palm. "Just go. If this is what you need to do, then go. Don't come back. I hate him more than you, but I won't let him rule the rest of my life."

    She prayed as footsteps turned into a door slamming.

    Word count: 250

    1. Jeremy, do you have a twitter handle or email address so we can contact you?

    2. No twitter, but my email is

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

  13. Good luck to the entrants; I didn't have time to write an entry this week, but maybe I'll catch up again next week!


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