Thursday, December 4, 2014

#ThursThreads - The Challenge That Ties Tales Together - Week 146

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 146 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 146:

Foodie, wild game preparer, and erotic medieval romance author, Kirsten Blacketer.

And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.

The Prompt:

“You watched the whole thing?”

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. Agnarr tugged at Eir’s arm. “Undress.”

    Beyond the blanket draped over their bench-bed to give them privacy, he could hear Bjørn sharpening a blade near the longhouse’s fire. His brother had been casting a covetous eye at Eir since Agnarr had brought her home; the winter had been a long one.

    Eir was worth coveting. Pale hair—compared to moonlight through the fog—slid over smooth skin. Her agile body and gray eyes held a challenge for any man.


    He felt his heat rise as her skin slid along his own. Wrapping his arm around her, he rolled so that she lay atop him. She was his trell and knew her place well.

    He thrust his hips against her. Lifting her pale brow, she impaled herself upon him with a gasp.

    “You will cry out for me!” he insisted.

    Air moved around their bed, but he was too caught up in the triumph of Eir’s burgeoning pleasure to care. His heart pounded as their rhythm grew frantic before he released his seed.

    Eir swore and stilled, jerking a fur over her body and flinging the blanket-wall aside.

    “Bjørn!” Agnarr stood tall. “What…? You, you watched? You watched the whole thing?”

    His brother panted like an animal. “I’ll purchase her, Agnarr. Gold. All I have.”

    “He never bought me,” Eir retorted disdainfully. “He slew my men and took me.”

    At that, Bjørn seemed to become himself. He moved toward the door. “Forgive me. I’ll return in the morning.”

    = = =

    Word count: 250
    Sandi Layne @sandyquill
    Tie-in: Scene that never happened from Éire’s Captive Moon.

  2. Luc slid the bottle from the back of his jeans and passed it to the man trussed up like a Christmas goose in the hospital bed. Tag unscrewed the top and swallowed a healthy glug.


    “Hell yeah.” Tag passed the bottle to Tinker, who swigged before handing it off to Dancer.

    Shoving hands in his front pockets, Luc attempted to look comfortable. After the accident where Tag almost lost his leg, a group of Nightriders always surrounded him. Luc had been notably absent. He caught the looks the others exchanged.

    Dancer worked on his poker face before speaking. “Missed you at the card game last night, Lucky.”

    “No, we didn’t,” Tag snorted. “I actually won for a change.”

    Tinker laughed. “I’m betting he got lucky anyway.”

    Luc didn’t blush but he didn’t meet their curious gazes either.

    “Wait. What the hell were you doing last night?” Tinker sniffed the air. “You were with Gemma. Her scent’s all over you.”

    Yeah, that was the fucking joy of being a Wolf. Everyone in the MC knew who and what he did. “So?” So? Really? That was the best defense he could come up with?

    “She’s got you whipped, ol’ son.” Dancer smirked, looking all superior and shit.

    “We watched a movie, that’s all.”

    “Yup. Whipped,” they all chorused.

    “What movie?” Tag looked interested.

    Luc mumbled, “Love Actually.” Didn’t matter. They all heard him. And stared. Hard.

    “And you watched the whole thing?”

    The three exchanged looks and pronounced the verdict. “Moonstruck.”
    250 words from current WIP short story set in Moonstruck world, but with the Nightriders MC.


  3. ***Trigger Warning***


    Lt. Michealson loomed over me. His round face dripped with sweat, thick hands clenching and unclenching.

    "You watched the whole thing?" he asked.

    I leaned back in the metal chair I was shackled to. "Like I had a choice."

    Michealson rubbed his face. "From the report I got, you started things."

    "Do you really think I'd initiate something like that?"

    He shook his head. "What the hell happened?"

    "Patterson attacked me." I rubbed my eyes, as if that would scrub the memories away. "He had a hand down my fucking pants. I head butted him, punched him in the gut, kicked him in the baby maker and rammed his head into the floor."

    Michealson softened, sinking into a chair. It creaked as he leaned forward, head in his hands. He sighed, rubbing what little hair was left on his head.

    "Jimmy, all you had to do was tell them he was trying to—sexually assault you."

    I bit my lip. "I did. They let him go, cuffed me, and told me to behave if I ever want out of here."

    He shook his head. "I'll get to the bottom of this. And in the mean time, I'll see what I can do to keep you and Patterson separated once he's back from the hospital."

    I nodded. A scrawny guard bent down and undid the shackles. We walked back to my cell and I wrinkled by brow. Michealson caught my eye and nodded. I guess I owe him.

    247 words

  4. "That's perfect." Sedgewick dipped a finger into the mixture and brought it to his nose. He inhaled and nodded. "This will do nicely. Let's get this on the welts."

    He led the way over to Navarro and grimaced at the state of the sores. Ronin swallowed hard beside him and his hands tightened into fists.

    "By the Goddess, those things are hideous."

    Sedgewich wasn't sure he meant the welts or the Winter Lace Stars, but he had to agree with the corporal's assessment. "Hold the bowl for me, Corporal, and I'll show you how to take care of this."

    He dipped his fingers in the bowl of salve and scooped out a liberal amount. "You want your fingers engulfed with salve because you need to completely cover the welts, and you don't want to get any of the poison on your skin." He smeared one of the sores with oily salve while Navarro moaned. "See? Each one must be covered thus." He met Ronin's jewel-blue eyes. "Understand?"

    Ronin nodded before switching his gaze back to Navarro's scarred shoulders. He dipped his fingers in the medicine and applied the salve to the man's skin. "Like this?"

    "Just like you watched. The whole thing must be covered or the poison will spread and the healing will take much longer." Sedgewick adjusted Ronin's hand to make sure the red corona around the sting mark held salve. "There. Do each one like that."

    239 ineligible #WIP500 words

  5. Mason sat on the porch, swigging an ice cold beer as the cool, salty air rolled over him, caressing his skin. Large fluffy clouds drifted by and he remembered laying on the beach seeing how many animals he could make. Today he admired their purity as they drifted elegantly across a pale blue sky which met the ocean in a sharp defining line.
    The sinking sun caused the horizon to blur with the sky, never ending bleak grey devouring the ribbons of red sunset. Was this what the world would be like now? Grey. Black. Dark. Always dark. He inhaled deeply, the air fresh, sending chills through him but embracing every ounce, the last second of day.
    He wasn’t alone as the delicate floral scent hit his nostrils.
    “Impeccable timing,” Mason said.
    “Every second of the night counts,” she replied. “I take it you watched?”
    “The whole thing. From sunrise this morning to darkness.” Mason turned, meeting the pale porcelain like face staring back at him, framed in a bed of loose, dark curls.
    Her blood red lips broke into a grin. White fangs glistened. “Don’t worry,” she said, reading his mind. “It’ll only hurt a bit. Just a teeny, tiny, bit.” Her kiss was tender. Mason held his breath as her cold lips travelled to his neck, soft like a feather before plunged her fangs deep within. . .
    “Welcome to darkness,” she purred as her blood coursed through his veins.

  6. For the Hell of it

    The plan had been simple and it probably would have worked if it weren’t for the fact that the situation itself was, well… complicated.

    The situation as we perceived it was as follows: Eliza worked for a company that was researching something our employer needed. We get her ID— have one of us keep her busy while the other others raid her company’s computers: simple.

    Except for the fact that the security system required biometrics; the Data Store was remote and could only be accessed from within the network. Oh, and did I mention that the security system they were using was not Kerberos the network authentication protocol but rather the actually three headed dog Cerberus after which it had been named?

    Like I said: complicated.

    The first phase went well. Matt met Eliza at a nice Bistro and we were able to get a copy of her ID with no-one the wiser, and that was probably the last minute everything worked.

    Within ten minutes of starting our actual run, Chris had been turned to stone; Mike had been eviscerated by a Chimaera, and I was damned to spend three weeks out of the year in hell.

    When I got back to warn Matt, I found him watching our failure in a mirrored pool, the images playing over and over as he tried to scream—Eliza simply gave me a predatory smile.

    “You watched the whole thing?” I demanded.

    “Nah, I left out the embarrassing stuff…” Eliza assured me.

    249 words (without the title)

  7. The Laughing Dog
    A.J. Walker

    Brian’s job description had recently been expanded to beyond acceptable.

    After the side boob incident on the six o’clock news he’d been tasked with reviewing every little excerpt supplied from the multitude smartphone images rolling in from the public. It was impossible.

    “Consider it a new KPI,” Marriot had said, “Zero side boobs - or cock ups - on the pre-watershed news and you may keep your job. Otherwise it’ll be your bits shown on the news the following day. Capiche?”

    He couldn’t afford another default - but it was a hopeless task as every sad little clip got fired through to Brian for vetting.

    Kate - his long term crush at work - sent him a video with a dog in it. It had four asterisks in the subject line suggesting it was important. He clicked on it straight away and there was the drooling dog nodding along with a song from One Direction. It was cute he had to admit, but it was not newsworthy, so he quickly exited and went on to the next useless footage (some cop shooting a gang banger - no-one would be interested).

    Brian worried about his house. He picked his stories and emailed them through to the news desk. Shortly afterwards he received a text from Kate - ‘You watched it all the way through?’

    He laughed. How much time did she think he had?

    Come six o’clock and FAB News was the only channel not to feature the dancing dog suddenly being devoured by that hideous alien.

    (249 words)

  8. Confronting the Spell-Caster
    250 words

    “Come, Deg,” Xed Krowley implored the young man whom he hoped would one day be his brother-in-law. “My sources lead me to Efram Xenon, which is no surprise. That greedy bastard would sell his own eyes for a dozen gold pieces.”
    Deg and Xed proceeded to the manor of Efram Xenon.
    “He’s a nasty bit of goods,” Xed warned. “Let me do the talking.”
    Efram answered the knock at the door. He wore a filthy cloak and exuded an air of malevolence. One of his eyes was watery blue, the other was clear like zirconium.
    “I know you cast the spell which makes my brother so ill,” Xed said.
    “Your brother brought his troubles on himself. He agreed to marry the Princess Merjan.”
    “But he never loved her. The agreement was made before he met the woman he loves.”
    “The Princess would bear a good heir to your family. This Outlander must never be allowed to marry Myzal. Better he die and their offspring remain a bastard, thus preserving the purity of the royal blood line.”
    “My sister is carrying Myzal’s child?” Deg asked.
    “I followed them to the swamps where Myzal so enjoys weaving his spells. He needed weave no spell over your sister, she was quite eager. She loves his soft hair, his beautiful eyes, and certain firmer parts of him. She told him so as she wrapped her legs around his back and their bodies moved as one.”
    “You watched the whole thing?” Deg demanded with disgust.

    by Dolly and Tempest from @UndeadNether
    Also posted at

  9. “They aren’t going to accept that you are doing this. There will be an ARMY waiting at the door, willing to obliterate you.” Spittle flew from the man’s mouth as he hung over the pit. “I won’t be the last one.”

    Cial tilted his head, glancing up from the file in his hand. The suit jacket was slung over the back and his tie was loosened up. “No, you won’t. And we’ll deal with the next one the same we deal with you and the ones before that came to spy upon me and mine. I play by the Triad’s rules. “

    “They are going to pull out your eyes and roast them over infernal coals.” The man was foaming on the mouth as he twisted in the mass of rope hanging from the open roof support.

    Cial sighed. A shake of his head stirred the white hair pulled back from his face. “I have more important things to do.”

    “You won’t get away with this.”

    “But I am.” He smiled and pushed the button. The rope was released from the rafters and the little man screamed as he fell.

    “You watched the whole thing?”

    Another small man stood to the side, hands shaking, holding a clipboard. A huge adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

    “Good. Tell the Triad to stay out of my business and I won’t keep killing those in their employee with second sight.” Cial flicked his fingers and a door opened. “Good day.”

    249 words

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


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