Thursday, October 23, 2014

#ThursThreads - The Challenge That Ties Tales Together - Week 141

Welcome back to the Weird, the Wild, & the Wicked. It's Thursday today so get your flash ready to celebrate and write a #flashfiction thread! Welcome to Week 141 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 141:

World traveler, recovering bartender, and erotic romance author, Sasha White.

And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.

The Prompt:

“Are they multiplying?”

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. What's that you say?
    You want me to write what?
    I would have to pay what?
    Goodness it's hot!

    Eye's dart around the room
    Heads are bent busily
    Effortlessly scribbling with aplomb
    Pencils scribing their words wisely

    Footsteps sounding behind
    Head bends quickly
    Eyes' focus wildly and find
    Lines blurring wickedly

    Are they multiplying?
    Add this divide by that!
    Question after question flying.
    Checked the clock and sat.

    Oh goodness me, of course!
    I was blinded by panic
    Screaming myself silently hoarse
    Scribbling against the clock satanic

    Pencils stop scribbling
    Finger's stop tapping
    An eerie silence descending
    Nothing is multiplying
    (100 words)

  2. She pressed against the wall, her restless eyes scanning the space around her. Her breasts strained against the cotton tank she wore, heaving with each shuddering breath. Sinjen watched from beneath slitted eyelids. His palms heated from the remembered feel of her bare skin. Smooth, supple, his touch eliciting goosebumps. Yes, he did so enjoy touching her.

    Her adrenaline spiked and he inhaled her fear, filling his lungs with the emotion. Like vinegar sharp and tangy on his tongue, he tasted her horror. He stalked closer, the ultimate predator.

    Her eyes fixed on his face as he approached and her fists clenched convulsively. Her nipples hardened and her breath caught. His gaze flicked to the pulse point on her throat. It leaped, echoing the pounding of her heart. Yes. He would have her. Again and again. He would swallow her terror, savor it as he savored her, making her come apart for him until she could no longer breathe.

    Something skittered across the floor and she jumped into his arms, wrapping her long, lean legs around him, nestling her hot core against his aching erection. He would take her here, against the wall, his need as thick and heavy as his cock and balls.

    “Are they multiplying?” She shivered and gulped, pupils dilated.

    He didn’t laugh, despite wanting to. His Sade—so brave, so fearless, so brash, only to be brought to her knees, at least figuratively, by something so small and mundane.

    “God but I hate spiders.”

    248 words

  3. ~~~~~

    Walking, never running, he rounded a corner, and crashed straight into the waiting crowd. He never suspected they would regroup this fast.

    “Are they multiplying?” he asked, while obliterating five of them in one, single strike of his sword.

    “I have no idea,” the dragon beside him mumbled, “but they are tougher to cut through than old crocodile leather.”

    “I know. We need to get these swords some TLC when we get back to base.”

    Minutes later, mission accomplished, they were heading over the river and back into their urban darkness.

    Nobody saw them neither come nor leave.

    Perfect mission.


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

  4. A scientist looked over his experiment. A grad student walked in and asked, “Are they multiplying?”
    “Aren’t they always?”
    “Don’t they know self-control? They are worse than rabbits.”
    “They aren’t very intelligent. If you watch you can see them continue to repeat the same actions over and over. It’s very fascinating, scientifically to observe.”
    “So is this like top level research that I’ll get credit for?”
    “You’ll get a mention,” the scientist.
    “Great, I could really use the credits. What are they doing now? Fighting?” the grad student asked.
    “Yes, they are at war again. It seems like they fight over things they want and the others have.”
    “What do those ones do?”
    “I’m not sure they just seem to be there meditating.”
    “Mediating? But I thought you said they weren’t intelligent.”
    “Just because they contemplate doesn’t make them smart.”
    “Okay, so I write down notes about what they do every hour?”
    “Yes, but it’s not as simple as it seems, the creatures are very active and their lives end quickly. Maybe that’s why they reproduce so often.”
    “Huh, it’s like they live in a tiny world and they’re not aware of anything else existing beyond their own.”
    “A very good observation, you’ll do well here.”
    “Do they have language?”
    “Primitive ones, but we believe they have several different languages in distinct pockets in their little world.”
    “So what do you call these creatures?”
    “My colleagues wanted to call them Groundlings.”
    “What a dumb name.”
    “I call them Earthlings.”
    249 words

  5. Bethany pulled back to look into Mack's face, wiping her own tear-stained cheeks. "I just told you I loved you and you're worried about the phoenix feather?"

    Chagrin tightened his gut and he coughed a rueful laugh. "Uh, yeah. You know us military types. Love isn't part of the SOP, so our hearts are usually MIA or DOA, and we're gearing up for the situation to go FUBAR."

    She blinked then laughed, which loosened his gut. "So is this a SNAFU for you?"

    "No, SNAFUs I do pretty well, I'm with the SnAIFU after all." He winked then sobered and leaned his forehead against hers as he exhaled, praying his courage wouldn't be MIA. "I heard you and I'm grateful for your efforts with the feather. I just don't understand how it worked." He tipped his head back and kissed her forehead. "For the record, I love you, too, Mare Bethany."

    The smile she gave him would've healed a lot of his injuries by itself, and she threw her arms around his neck in a tight hug.

    "Really?" She searched his face for reassurance.

    "Yes, ma'am."

    "Oh, thank God."

    He laughed. "Why thank God?"

    "I thought I'd gone and fallen for a guy who was just using me as a meal-ticket with my dad."

    The idea made him scowl, but he'd met John Coolidge and doubted the man had a sincere bone in his body. "Fairly common in your world, are they?"

    "Multiplying like flies on manure, you might say."

    250 ineligible #WIP500 words

  6. Eight long legs carry a lithe, hairless body across the floor. It scurries inches from my little toe. I suck in a breath, a scream rattling from me that would put a horror movie leading lady to shame.

    My husband’s bare feet pound the polished hardwood floor. He nearly steps on the evil spider in his haste to get to me. Trembling hands reach for him, sweat pours from my face.

    “Jimmy, what in the world is the matter?” His hard blue eyes wrinkle as his face dips into a frown.

    “Sp-spider. Gonna kill me.”

    Jacoby shakes his head, squishing the spider with a tissue. He holds it up to me, a shiver crawls down my spine. Eight long legs carry a lithe, hairless body across the floor. It brushes the side of my foot and I scream. My feet latch to my husband’s hips and he sways with my weight.

    “Are they multiplying?!” I whimper.

    A sigh escapes Jacoby’s lips, spittle landing on my cheek. He forces me down, then kills this spider with the same tissue. My body shakes, my palms drip with sweat.

    “When you’re ready to be an adult when it comes to spiders, let me know.”

    He throws the tissue in the trash. I inch closer to the tall metal can and peek inside. One hairless leg waves at me, mocking me. A second long leg joins the first, waving, and I swallow a scream. The legs slump and I shudder. Damn spiders anyway.

    249 Words

  7. The pair of centaurs ran me to ground. No matter how many miles I could hike, I couldn’t outrun a horse-man. Gasping for breath, I backed against a tree. Oh yay, I could see it coming when they decided to trample me.

    Maybe not the best plan ever.

    I flinched as the taller of the two leaned in, features twisted with suspicion.

    “What is it?” Rude hands gripped my braid, inspecting the woven strands. “Its aspect seems female, but the attire is unwholesomely masculine.”

    “Her clothing and manner suggest a likeness to Mare Bethany’s new companion.”

    “The major.” A derisive snort hit me square in the face. “Another human. We’re positively plagued by them.”

    The major. They knew Mack? And Bethany Stanton, too? I opened my mouth, but they kept talking.

    “Are they multiplying?” The smaller one shuffled his hooves and sidled a few steps away.

    “I do not believe their species works that way.”

    “We should take her back with us.”

    “Yes,” I broke in, “you absolutely should.”

    A lilting song filled the air with words I couldn’t understand. The haunting tune captured the attention of the centaurs and they turned from me. They began speaking to one another in conversational tones and walked off, not once looking back.

    When they disappeared from view, the song faded away. A tall, sinuous woman drifted through the trees. Her chin dipped my way, the tiniest acknowledgment of my presence.

    “Your path lies elsewhere.” Even her speech seemed a song. “Welcome home.”

    250 WIP words

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


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