Thursday, August 28, 2014

#ThursThreads - The Challenge That Ties Tales Together - Week 133

Welcome back to the Weird, the Wild, & the Wicked. It's Thursday today, so get your flash ready. Writing a #flashfiction thread! Welcome to Week 133 of #ThursThreads, the challenge that ties tales together. Want to keep up each week? You're welcome to join the FB #ThursThreads group where we'll do events and make announcements. 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 8 PM Mountain 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 133:

Rock nerd, paleo-geek, mining geologist, and honorary cowboy, George Varhalmi.

And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.

The Prompt:

“You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

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. He popped his head around the corner. "You still mad at me?"
    Nikole thrust her jaw forward and tapped the empty notebook. "What do you think?"
    Jack slid into the chair beside her. The diner sat empty except for them. The sky shifted its dark cloak as the dawn pushed against it creating her favorite shade of blue. She sighed when he leaned close and peeked over her shoulder.
    "I didn't mean to—"
    She threw her hand up stopping him. "You don't know a damn thing about me." Her gaze narrowed on him as his eyes widened. Blue like the sky outside. She shook the resemblance out of her mind and focused on the anger. "So stop pretending like you know what's going on inside my head." She let the emotions simmer, but the tension between them did nothing to cool her temper.
    He put his hands up. "I'm sorry." Jack leaned back and propped his feet on the rung beneath her chair. "Far be it from me to intrude on your space."
    You're always in my space, damn it. Nikole met his cool, indifferent look. She hated that look, wanted to smack it off his face.
    He glanced over his shoulder as the first rays of dawn broke the horizon. "I'll see you tonight." Jack brushed his fingertips along her jaw. "It'll get easier, promise." He vanished in the morning light.
    "Fucking muses." She closed her notebook and stood to put on her apron.

    @kirblacketer 246 words

    1. My muse has never been that real. Maybe I should work on that - all kinds of possibilities there :)

  2. (From my scifi WIP Lyric's Salvation)

    “I saw your message, you foul beast. You’re going to let me be killed.”

    He dragged her to the bench, and shoved her down on it, yanking the knife from her grasp. He pitched it to the other side of the room and stood over her, breathing heavily.

    “Why the fuck are you going through my personal things?” he asked, glaring down to her. She met his heated gaze head on.

    “Why shouldn’t I? After all, look what your plans for me are.”

    He raked his fingers through his hair and paced back and forth. His injured arm bounced against his middle in a sling. “Look, it’s nothing personal, but the reward money will buy my brothers and father their freedom. They were taken by slavers to work in the mines.”

    She thought about the day the slaver had taken her, and how heartbroken it must’ve left her own family. No, he doesn’t deserve my sympathy.

    “So it’s my life for theirs?” she asked. “You’ll condemn me to the cruelest of fates without considering any other options to save them?”

    Troy spun on her. “You don’t know a damn thing about me. Don’t you think I’ve tried to figure out any and every other way? I searched this entire solar system trying to come up with a better plan than you. I don’t want to do it, but I don’t have any other choice. My father may already be dead, but my brothers deserve at least a small chance.”

    249 words

    1. I would love to read more ... I love sci-fi and this great.

  3. “Well, are you going to enter or not?” he asks from beside me, holding the door open for me.

    I glare at him and reply, “Who the fuck asked you to stay back, Edward? You can go inside to your fucking date and leave me be.”

    “She’s not my date. We are friends from high school,” he mumbles.

    “Ri-ight,” I say back bitchily, trying to hide the hurt seeing him with another woman has caused me.

    He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. I feel the urge to reach up and do that for him, knowing that he loved it when I did that.

    “You’ll get cold, Bella. You are always feeling cold. Just come inside,” he says softly.

    An irrational anger courses through me and I snap at him. “Don’t pretend to care. You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

    His nostrils flare, and in a flash, he closes the door, grabs my arm and pulls me to the side alley of the restaurant.

    He stands close to me, making my back hit the brick wall and then leans in, his breath tickling my face.

    “You really think I don’t care about you, Bella? Do you honestly believe that I don’t know you? Knowing you is the best thing to have ever happened to me, baby,” he whispers.

    I whimper, and then not caring about the past, I grab his neck and pull his lips to mine. “Love me, Edward,” I say.

    “Always, Bella,” he responds.

    Word Count: 250


    1. Trust love and friendship great tale x

  4. She glanced at the food in front of her on the table—rosemary chicken, her favorite—then glared across the great expanse of table at him. Had it not been for the ever-pouring rain, she would have already left Barton Manor—on foot since he would not allow her to use the phone to call a car. He said she was not a prisoner; she was free to come and go as she pleased, which meant the hedge at the end of the garden, and with someone watching her. She had not made it that far, the raining stopping her at the stone railing on the back lanai.

    “Something wrong with your food, my dear?” he asked, eyebrows raised in concern. “I’ve requested all your favorites.”

    “You don’t know a damn thing about me,” she said defiantly, pushing the plate away from her—it slid easily on the polished table. “Let alone what my favorites are.” She stood and shouted, “I need to get out of here!”

    “Harold will drive you anywhere you’d like to go.” He smiled, loving her impetuous actions. His fork stopped halfway to his mouth.

    “I want my own car.”

    “We’ve discussed this before.” He sat down his fork, then dapped his mouth with a cloth napkin pulled from his lap. “It is not safe. I wouldn’t want anyone to harm my fiancé.”

    Fiancé, she thought, shaking her head. The idea made no sense. She stepped into the hallway, lightning flashed, making the arched windows glow.

    250 words

    1. Controlling fiancee's are creepy. Im with her she should have her own car x

  5. “What the hell is he up to?” said Mikhail, watching Sergei walk his post along the perimeter fence. Sergei paused to tug on a section of wire fence. “Stupid’s been doing that for two hours. He walks his post, pauses, and pulls at that section before continuing on.”

    “Maybe that’s his escape route.” Lipa peered at Sergei with her scoped AK74. “Perhaps I should do something about it.” She trusted the new transfer as much as Mikhail. “Maybe he’s a rebel sapper.”

    Mikhail’s reply was cut off by explosions and gunfire from the base’s west end. “Contact, western sector,” cried their radios. “Rebels armed with RPGs and… Shi-”

    Mikhail and Lipa watched their sector. Sergei stood watching them, smiling. A Russian military truck plowed through the fence. Figures leapt from the truck, opening fire as they landed.

    “He’s a rebel,” cried Lipa. She fired and Sergei fell. “And that was that,” she spat. She looked to Mikhail, but he was dead.

    Lipa sprinted and was almost to her position when something landed on her, knocking her unconscious.

    It was nighttime when she awoke. She’d been tied naked, and spread eagle to the ground, illuminated by a spotlight.

    “Don’t struggle,” said a voice beyond the light.

    Lipa struggled.

    “You won’t be raped,” said Sergei, stepping into the light.

    “I killed you.”

    “Bullets are now ineffective.” His mouth, hands, and uniform were bloody.

    “What are you, monster?”

    “Dear, clichéd Lipa. You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

    And that was that.

    250 words

  6. ~~~~~

    Looking out over the vast wastelands, she drew a breath from the bottom of her lungs. Then turned, and looked him straight in the eye—there had been love there, now superseded by hatred.

    “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

    On his knees in the dirt, he watched her walk away, as his heart shattered into pieces so fractured nobody was ever going to put them back together again.

    “This wasn’t how it was supposed to go,” he whispered to the empty air around him. “Not like this. Never like this.”

    The explosion took him almost by surprise.


    Word count: 100 on the nose
    Twitter handle: @AnnaLund2011

  7. I sauntered in Charles’ bar Nightscape dressed to the nines. Male patrons smiled appreciatively at me, but not Charles. No, he kissed a buxomly blonde full on the lips.
    I streamed over and slapped Charles in the face and yelled, “You son of a bitch. I thought you loved me. To think since it’s leap year day, I came here ask you to marry me.”
    “Marry me? You don’t know a damn thing about me. Come to my office. You’re making a scene.”
    I followed and he shut the door of his office. He proceeded to tell me an incredible tale of how he was four hundred years old and that the blonde was his daughter. I began to laugh and he grew quiet. Two sharp teeth protruded from his upper and lower gum, and then he said, “If I wanted to turn you or bleed you dry I could have done it at any time. I love you, become my eternal bride?”

    Pulling a stake from my purse I stabbed him straight through the heart and he dissolved into a pile of ash. I left telling him a loud goodbye and locking the office door. I left the bar arriving home only to sharp my stakes for the remaining vampires and the long battle to come.
    He thought I didn’t know him, but he didn’t know me. As much as I had loved him, my profession and his betrayal came first, for I was Medea the Vampire Slayer.
    249 words

    1. Vampires are cool. So sophiscated and sure ... like the way he didn't see her stake coming x

  8. The New Kid in School

    "Some of us are getting together at my house for a study session tonight. Wanna come?"

    He closed his locker and spun the combination lock before turning to face me, suspicion in his eyes. "You'd invite me to your house?"

    "My parents will be there,” I pointed out. “And other people. It's not like we're going to be alone together. Besides," I grinned, "I don't think they let serial killers or axe murderers into public high schools."

    “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

    "You're right, I don't. That's why I'm inviting you -- so I can get to know you."

    Anger and suspicion warred in his eyes and I sighed. "Look, I know what they say your father did. Hell, everyone in town has heard the rumors. But that doesn't mean I believe them or think you're some sort of freak. You aren't him. You're you. And, I'll admit it, you're too damned sexy and I wouldn't mind a chance to get into your jeans--"

    The rest of my sentence was cut off as he pushed me against the lockers: his kiss was hard and angry and both of us were panting when it ended.

    "--but I'd like to get to know you first," I finished.

    And suddenly he was laughing, and this time his kiss was soft and gentle.

    "Then let's get to know each other," he said. "Because I don't know a damned thing about you, either. I didn't even know you were gay."

    250 words

  9. “I promise I won’t let it hurt you.”

    Kendra snorted and tried to settle her mind enough to gather the life energy around her. Magic wasn’t an alien force—it came from the living beings inhabiting the world. Ironically, this frightening creature held some of the same energy, but it appeared tangled or kinked.

    Kendra took a deep breath and built a ball of power, focusing her mind in the direction she’d cast it. The creature crouched, its hindquarters wiggling just like a cat about to pounce. Kendra waited for the right moment. The spell she had in mind wouldn’t harm the creature, but contain it and heal some of the conflicting energy paths.

    Phinnius moved into her line of fire and she growled. “Get out of the way. I don’t want to hit you.”

    “Hit me? With what? I’m the one with the sword. Just stay back and I’ll protect you.” He turned his back to her, watching the creature.

    While she liked his looks, right now, she didn’t need him to be in the way when she threw her energy cast. Goddess only knew what a defensive spell like this would do to him. He didn’t have completely human energy and this energy was her own special recipe.

    “I don’t need protecting, Mr. Winterbourne. I just need you stay to the side, okay?”

    “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

    “And you don’t know a damn thing about me, so please just get out of the way.”

    249 ineligible #WIP500 words

    1. Love this ... particularly 'her own special recipe' home based are always best x

  10. "You can't just quit your job," Sheila complained, tagging along behind me like a lost kitten. "What are you going to do for money?"

    "That's my problem, isn't it?" She was really getting on my nerves. Since she was the one person I liked in this office, I didn't really want to leave her on a sour note, but why couldn't the woman just let me go?

    "The office won't be the same without you."

    She sounded so lost, I couldn't help but feel sorry for her. She was right. The only people who knew how to do what I was best at did not have the time to take on my work as well as their own.

    That was the problem, too much work tied me to only this paycheck. There was nothing left to earn the side money I needed to help the kids.

    "You're just being selfish," she complained as if she'd been reading my mind. "You only think about yourself and what you want, never about anyone else."

    My mind flashed back to when I was my own boss, the money I was able to make when I alone called the shots. As much as I loved what I did and the difference it made, I needed that access to money more.

    "You don't know a damn thing about me, so shove off and let me go!"

    That did it. With a hurt expression and her conviction that I was sabotaging us all, Sheila fled.

    249 words, trying to kickstart the writing mojo again

    1. Good kickstart ... I really felt empathy with your main character.

  11. Looking at the almost skeletal figure on the twin bed, I sigh. A homemade quilt, made by his adopted mother, shrouds his tiny frame. Jimmy turns over, his tear-streaked face stares into mine.

    "Why are you still here?" His voice is like sandpaper. He was throwing up all night.

    "Because I love you. Because I said for better or worse and I meant it. I want you to kick the drugs, I want you to come home. I know that's easier said than done, but I know you're strong enough to do it, too."

    He snarls. "You don't know a damn thing about me."

    I hang my head, my voice barely a whisper as tears threaten. "I know more than you think. When the withdrawals are over, when you're human again, you'll remember that."

    His wedding ring catches the light, a burst of gold in a room filled with depression. My own ring, cold against my palm, is a reminder of the promise I made five years ago. I won't leave him, I won't let the streets win. Turning for the door, I stumble when my shirt is pulled. His hand clutches in the fabric, his arm trembling.


    I settle into a desk chair, taking his hand. It's cold, clammy, shaking like a leaf. I wipe the tears from his face as he falls asleep.

    226 words

    1. Omg... I had to reach for the tissues... so sad... so beautifully written x

  12. "Where in Orion's Hell did you go?" Ejan managed a breath when Sorin re-appeared.

    "Impressed? It's a molecular haze, kinda like an invisibility ward."

    "I knew it. You are a witch, as the Gyere say."

    "You don't know a damn thing about me, Ejan. I'm not a witch. I'm mageborn which is to say I was born with magic."

    "Can you get us out of here, Sorin? That's what I wanna know. Whatever you are, you're the only one who can thwart the Gyere's plans for us."

    "I'm working on it, Ejan. It's not that simple."

    "Meaning what, exactly?"

    "Meaning the ward will accommodate only one of us."

    Ejan stood to his full height and rubbed his chin. "Then you must use it to free yourself."

    Sorin turned away unable to face him, knowing he was right and that she had to leave him behind.

    Cate Derham
    145 Words

  13. She sat crunched up against the door of the Hummer, her face turned away from me as she watched the scenery roll by. I kept my eyes on the narrow two-lane blacktop winding through the mountains. We’d left the rain behind on the plains but I expected snow to start falling at any time. I hated silence. I always had. Reaching for the radio, I punched the button for the CD. Duran Duran filled the air.

    “Turn it off.”

    “It speaks.”

    “Shut up.”

    “Make me.”

    What? Are you like…six?”

    “I’m not the one acting the spoiled brat.”

    “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

    I turned down the sound. “Then tell me.”

    “You loved her.”



    I had to think a minute. I hadn’t known Sarah’s name until after her murder. “Why would you say that?”

    More silence. Sam shifted in the seat and I glanced at her. Were those tears she blinked away?

    “Everybody did.”

    “Did what?”

    “Love Sarah.”

    “Seems more like she loved the wrong people. And just FYI? I didn’t love her. Didn’t know her that well. She saved my life. I owed her. That’s all.” No need to mention I’d wanted to fuck her. Would have been a mistake. After meeting Sam, I knew which twin I’d pick.

    “What’s gonna happen to me and the kids?”

    “You’re under the Russian’s protection. You’ll be safe.”

    “From you?”

    Was that interest in her voice? “Babe, you’ll never be safe from me.”

    Sam was mine.
    250 words on a secondary WIP


  14. Sami sat crouched in the book corner. It was time to read quietly. Normally this would be a great quiet activity but today He was cross.
    Sami flicked through his chosen book without actually registering it's content as he glanced over the top of the pages at the class and their teacher. They were all different. Every single one of them! So why did they try acting the same?
    Puzzled and feeling a little disoriented with frustrated anger, Sami threw the book on the beanbag and stormed out the classroom.
    Miss followed him "Sami, come back here!" As Sami continued walking out into the playground Miss tried again. ''Sami, come on, you know this isn't appropriate. Get back inside now!''
    “You don’t know a damn thing about me.” yelled Sami angrily. ''Sami, we don't speak in that tone!''
    For the rest of the morning Sami sat in the deputy head's room with handwriting practice and was supposed to be writing an apology note. He didn't want to but he knew he'd be in trouble if he didn't and after his yell he did feel a little bit better. Even if they hadn't listened, Sami was aware that his shout had 'cleared the cobwebs' as his Mum would say! Tomorrow was another day and he could celebrate his difference with a fresh start.


  15. Mason’s battered Ford rolled to a stop in front of a weathered trailer, squealing brakes announcing their arrival.
    Elsie waited patiently for Mason to cross in front of the truck and open the passenger door. She smiled at his tact, though in truth it his assistance was as much a matter of practicality as politeness. The door was simply too hard for her to open.
    Leaning on his strong shoulder, the pair carefully made their way to the short wooden steps that would take them up and into her trailer.
    Once inside, Elsie leaned back on the counter that jutted from the opposite wall. Her deep blue eyes took in the young man’s masculine frame.
    “Are you sure you won’t stay?” she asked demurely, in a voice that crackled with age.
    “Elsie,” Mason began. “You’re a wonderful woman, and I like you a lot, but, we’re so far apart in age.”
    Mason looked down at the floor, unable to look into Elsie’s eyes.
    “Besides, I don’t think you’d like me once you got to know me.”
    “Honey,” Elsie replied, in a voice that suddenly didn’t crackle at all. “you don’t know a damn thing about me.”
    Deep lines in Elsie’s face began to fade. Withered skin turned silky smooth in a slow transformation that took Elsie from aged woman to youthful beauty in a matter of seconds.
    And when her sundress fell, it revealed a perfect body.
    Mason stood mouth agape, unable to respond.
    “But you’re about to find out.”


  16. Striker heard someone approaching the electrified fence. As alert as he was, he recognize the sickly, sweet smell drifting on the air, and it turned his stomach. He’d lost too many men. He wouldn’t lose another.
    She’s hungry, good.
    When was the last time she’d eaten? He’d found a bloodless calf a week ago, but it wouldn’t sustained her long.
    “She’s out there, isn’t she?” Ella handed him a cup of java substitute.
    “Yeah. I don’t know if she’ll take the bait, but it’s worth a shot. There are three pints of AB positive out there for her. I don’t see her turning it down. We can’t let her get to phase three.”
    “You plan to kill her! I thought this stuff was only going to know her out,” she said, her face betraying her horror. My God, she’s your sister. How can you even consider it?”
    He took a mouthful of the bitter brew. “Was. Isn’t anymore. You know as well as I do, once she was infected, she was as good as dead. I’m just saving her pain and making sure she doesn’t take any more of us with her."
    “How can you be so cold-hearted? Jeremy is working on an antidote to the virus. Give him time. You’re becoming a monster.”
    “You don’t know a damn thing about me, Ella. I was a monster long before I landed on this godforsaken planet. This place has just stripped me of the last vestiges of my humanity.

    (248 words from a sci-fi I'm playing with)

  17. Sorry: @jandsmatt or

  18. “Back away from the corpse, Angeles.”

    Yeah, I’d been here long enough to be known by name. Worse still, getting caught red-handed by a guard better known for beat downs than conversational skills. I lifted my hands from the doc’s body and shifted until I rested on my heels.

    “Easy, Officer Budd.” Stealing from the dead. Not my finest hour, and as a long-term resident of the gray bar motel, I actually had a scale to measure by.

    “Not ten minutes dead and you’re looting her body.” Budd sneered at me, primed for a fight. “You’re worse than a buzzard.”

    “Hungrier, maybe.”

    “Opportunistic, you mean.”

    “Close enough.” I aimed a smirk at him. “Though I wasn’t the one counting the minutes. Waiting for something exciting, Budd?”

    Budd’s face reddened as the halls of the prison resonated with echoing screams. Shouts of anger and pain. Pleas for help.

    Save us. God, save us.

    “You really are a piece of shit, Angeles. I thought you were salvageable.”

    Bullshit. Salvation had no business here.

    “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

    “From where I’m standing, ignorance is bliss.” He snorted. “The doc stood up for you. Defended you. Good to see you returning the sentiment.”

    Antagonism and sarcasm. I could work with those. The longer Budd didn’t ask questions, didn’t see me as a human desperate for any way out of this place, the better my chances of surviving long enough to breach the walls.

    To taste freedom.

    To warn the world.

    250 words

  19. “This is crazy, Dad.” Paul ran both hands through his hair, eyes affixed to the floor.

    Craig, on the other hand, stared at me like I had grown two heads. “Are you positive?”

    I laughed then. I had just come out to my two sons after forty years of denial and their reactions couldn’t be more fitting. Paul never liked anything outside the norm, preferring to stay in his safe little world. And Craig constantly questioned everything, his scientist’s brain always at work.

    “It’s that whole mid-life crisis thing,” Paul replied before I could answer, beginning to pace. “He’s struggling to find himself after being alone for so long and with his 55th birthday around the corner….”

    I grabbed him by the arm to stop him. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that. I’d like to think you believe me to have a healthier grasp on reality AND my own life than that.”

    Paul sighed. “This is not who you are, Dad.”

    “You don’t know a damn thing about me, Paul.” I said through clenched teeth. I took a calming breath. “What do you either of you know about my life? You went to live with your mother in the middle of grade-school and never gave me the time of day when I tried to keep in touch. But here it is twenty years later, we’ve reconnected and I’ve finally accepted who I am. I had hoped my sons would understand.”

    Craig blinked and smiled. “He’s positive, Paul.”

    250 words
    Hunter Frost

  20. #ThursThreads is now CLOSED. Thanks to everyone who wrote this week and I hope to see you next week.


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