Thursday, January 8, 2015

#ThursThreads - The Challenge That Ties Tales Together - Week 150

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 150 of #ThursThreads, the challenge that ties tales together. If you're able to join us, we're here. Want to keep up each week? Check out the #ThursThreads #flashfiction group on Facebook. 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 150:

Geek, Anthropologist, and steampunk romance author, Angela Quarles.

And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.

The Prompt:

"Because I wanted you to have it.”

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. Standing on a creaking porch, I wait for a door to open. In my hands is a large box, wrapped in black wrapping paper.

    The door opens and the halfway house supervisor smiles at me. “He’s on the back porch.”

    The lemon-scent of freshly mopped floors assaults me as I walk into the dining room and out onto the back porch. Perched in a swing, his 6’7” frame shadowed by the late afternoon sun, sits my husband, nose in a book.


    His book hits the deck and he crushes me into a hug.

    “I didn’t know you were coming today! I thought you were waiting until graduation!”

    I smile as he stands back. His hair is growing back, curly this time, reddish-brown. It won’t be long and he’ll dye it black again. I settle next to him on the swing and hand him the package.

    “You don’t have to get me anything,” he says. But he opens the box anyway. “Holy—Jack! But—why?”

    “Because I wanted you to have it. You deserve something extra special for doing so well in your rehab program.”

    He carefully takes the brand new digital camera out of the box. “Thank you.”

    “If you fail, the camera is mine.” I try to keep my face serious but a smile gives me away

    He laughs, clutching it to his chest. “I won’t fail, I promise.”

    We seal that with a kiss. If the house supervisor sees, she doesn’t say a word.

    250 words

  2. Stepping through the door to my apartment, I stop dead in my tracks.

    Am I in the right house? I think to myself as my eyes take in the candles arranged all throughout my living room.

    A slight movement from the corner draws my attention, and I see him.


    “Edward? What is all this?” I ask feeling confused.

    He starts making his way toward me, and when he’s standing in front of me, he smiles.

    “Do you remember how you said you’ve never had a candle-lit dinner before?”

    Dumbly, I just nod.

    He places a hand on my cheek and meets my eyes.

    In the candle light, his usually green eyes look more vibrant ... more intense.

    He kisses my forehead before saying softly, “I lit the candles because I wanted you to have that, baby.”

    It finally dawns on me. “Wait, you went through all these troubles just for me?”

    “Bella, you have no idea how much I’ll do ... just for you,” he replies. “I love you, and if candle-lit dinner is what my girl wishes for, then that’s what she’ll get.”

    As I stand there, stunned speechless, he shrugs. “Besides, I didn’t do much. I just ordered us a pizza and lit the candles ...”

    I don’t even let him finish speaking as I throw my arms around him and pull him in for a kiss. “You ordered pizza? I knew I fell in love with the right man,” I say before kissing him once more.

    Word Count: 250
    Twitter Handle: @TwiAddictAnne

  3. Massini Mansion

    The house stood as a sentinel at the top of a steep, craggy hill. The valley spread before it in peaceful bliss.

    His new job had brought them in search of a place to settle down, but no matter how many houses they toured, he noticed that her gaze always went to that behemoth.

    On the way back to their hotel, he remembered the conversation he had had with the real estate agent.

    “Mr. Massini lives in that house. It’s not likely to come up for sale until his death. It’s been handed down in his family for hundreds of years, but he is the last of the Massini line.”

    Her breathing was steady as he slipped out of the bed and into the night. Insanity had taken over, and it drove him up that hideous hill. His hair was wild, and foam was forming at the corners of his mouth.

    He found Mr. Massini in a giant bed on the third floor.


    The hardest part was waiting for the ‘For Sale’ sign to appear.

    On the day of the big reveal, he blindfolded her.

    Parking the car, he said, “You can take it off.”

    Removing it slowly and letting her eyes fully focus, he never forgot her next words.

    “Why are we here? I hate this old place. It gives me the creeps.”

    The color red blinded him. The madman was back. As she lay silent, he whispered in her ear, “Because I wanted you to have it.”

    250 Words

  4. Darkness clung to Jose like a jealous lover as he crept through the alley behind Georgina's manor. He looked across the lawn where a man sat on a bucket in the center of a dim light, smoking.

    Jose removed a white rose from his jacket and inhaled the scent. He sighed then replaced the rose and crossed the lawn, a silent hunter approaching his prey.

    Jose wrapped a strong arm around the smoking man’s neck and squeezed. The struggling man tried to scream but his voice caught in his throat. Within a minute Jose dropped the limp body to the ground.

    Jose climbed a trellis on the back wall to a second story balcony and entered through a dark window into a hallway. The ticking of a grandfather clock filled the house as he crept down the hallway to a door with light underneath. He opened the door and stepped inside.

    Something exploded and slammed into Jose's chest. He flew backwards to the floor, arms and legs sprawling. He blinked and looked up into the lighted room.

    Georgina stood over him clutching a smoking pistol, a look of horror and despair crossing her face. She dropped the gun and ran to Jose, horrified at what she had done.

    "What have you done?" she asked. "Why did you do this?"

    Jose reached into his vest and removed the white rose flecked with his red blood. He held it to her and coughed.

    "Because I wanted you to have it."

    248 words

  5. My grandmother was old at least that’s what everyone said, but to me she was my gran. She had been there for me every day when I grew up; raising me when my mother had died. She had comforted me at eight years old, when my dad had died from liver failure. She was my rock and my world and now she too would leave me. Wiping away tears, I watched her sleep. Pulling myself together, I vowed not to make this difficult for her, but to make her happy. Two weeks ago she cried. I thought she was upset that she would die for herself, but what she worried about was me. She had handed me a piece of paper. I read it asking her, “Why?”
    “Because I wanted you to have it,” she had answered.
    “Have what?” I’d asked.
    “The love of a husband I was denied and not be alone.”
    “So you signed me up for a dating service?”
    “No this is actually dates, then a marriage of your choice,” she explained.
    I was angry, but I couldn’t refuse her dying request, so I went out on some recommended dates. That’s where I met Jack.
    “Here, Georgina,” Jack said interrupting my thoughts as he offered me coffee.
    “Is this him?” asked grandmother.
    “Yes, Jack will be my husband,” I answered showing her the engagement ring.
    She smiled reached for our hands placing them together and died. A year later we named our daughter, Emma-Lynn, after our grandmothers.
    250 words

  6. He stared at her for several moments, his eyes wide in the darkness.

    “You know, I asked you to bite me, to take nourishment from me because I knew you needed it, and because I wanted you to have it.” She glared her fury at him because the scent of charred flesh never came out of car upholstery. “It brought me pleasure, not only feeling your fangs in me, but being able to give you something you needed. And now you apologize. Every. Single. Time. Do you understand that hurts more than this imagined slight?”


    “No. Don’t apologize again. I don’t want to hear it. Just get out of my car, think about your choices, and hopefully I’ll see you at Thanksgiving supper on Thursday.”

    “You still want me to come to Thanksgiving?” Drake blinked like a big white owl.

    “Yes, if you get your priorities straight. You don’t want to dishonor me? Fine, don’t eat and run. Now get out.”

    Drake wore an expression of bewildered hurt, but Aliandra refused to care. Take your medicine, vampire. Doctor’s orders. He slid out of her car and shut the door, staring at her through the window. She put the vehicle in gear and pulled away from the curb, gritting her teeth against the fire brewing in her belly. She’d have to take a flight and let off some of her rage or she was liable to burn down the clinic while on call.

    244 ineligible #WIP500 words

  7. The tiny crystal pendant hung on a rusty chain that dangled from the end of his finger. Even in the dim interior of our latest base camp it danced with colors I had forgotten.

    I shook my head. “You should keep it, trade it or give it to your mom when we find her."

    “I didn't climb all the way down into the pit to dig this out for my mom. I did it because I wanted you to have it.”

    “Kid, what am I supposed to do with a piece of glass on a string?”

    “You’re supposed to wear it. And when you look at it, you can pretend things were like they were before…when they were normal.”

    I tried to remember the last time I’d felt normal. I wanted to tell him that no amount of pretending would ever wipe away the things I’d seen in the last few months, but the words wouldn't come. I bent forward and let him fasten the chain around my neck.

    “Do you think the others will make it in time?” he asked.

    Near the window, the transponder light blinked in a steady rhythm, sending out the signal that would lead the others to our location. The sky was a familiar shade of gray. In two, maybe three hours the rains would return and anyone not inside could kiss their humanity goodbye. Jack was strong, he knew the terrain, he’d get them here. He had to.

    “I don’t know, kid. Here’s hoping.”

    250 words

  8. Gemma stared at the journal nested on her flattened palm. “I don’t understand.”

    Luc resisted the urge to dig his boot toe in the dirt. “It’s Ethan’s.” Ethan West. His best friend in high school and Gemma’s big brother. And the man he almost went to prison for.

    “His diary?” When he nodded, she closed her fingers over the spine. “How did you get it?”

    “Don’t ask.” She tried to hand it back but he kept his hands jammed into his hip pockets. “It’s all there, Gem. The truth.”

    “Why are you giving it to me?”

    “Because I wanted you to have it. The truth. That book is the truth and you deserve to know.” Gemma’s throat worked as she gulped. It was so damn hard not to take her in his arms. He took a step back to put more distance between them.

    Her voice sounded like shifting sand—soft but gritty. “I already know the truth, Luc. I know what he did to Jamie, that he accused you. I tried to tell my parents. They called me a liar.” Pain lunged across her expression. “And worse.”

    Luc could no longer stand the separation. He reached with both hands and coaxed her to his chest. “I didn’t want to leave you behind. You were so young, Gemma.”

    “I wasn’t. I’ve never been young.”

    “I realize that now. I’m sorry, and I want to make up for lost time. Will you give me the chance?”

    She searched his expression. “Yes.”
    250 words

  9. Gregor held his hand out, dark red blood oozing from the offering in his palm, the muscles of the odd-shaped lump still quivering in a vain attempt to pump.

    "Oh, God." Lola threw herself back against the damp stones of the wall, turning her head sideways as she tried to get even further from the strange, pale man in front of her. "Is that what I think it is?"

    "It's my heart, Lola." He thrust it closer, and she cringed.

    "Yours? Why the ever-living hell are you handing me your heart?" Her tone crept toward hysterical, but she couldn't help herself. Three days she'd been locked in this basement, and she still had no idea where she was. The closest she'd gotten to 'why' was this crazed lunatic's increasingly insane expressions of affection.

    "Because I wanted you to have it." He blinked, and Lola's stomach twisted at his expression of earnest hope. "It's the most important thing I have to give."

    The most important thing?

    She stared at his ripped, blood-drenched shirt, the shadows hinting at a gaping wound beneath.

    Maybe his could be turned to her advantage.

    She cast a quick glance around the room, verifying that there really was an old, wooden barrel in the corner.

    One splinter from that, and the next time he opened the door, she could be free of his vampiric ass.

    She stood up straight and held out her hands, cupping them to receive the bloody gift. "Thank you, Gregor," she breathed.

    * * *

    249 words

  10. The sun was rising as Emily looked on. The stranger had only been through the town a few times but her heart flipped each time she saw him. Unfortunately he had a reputation. Sighing Emily made a wish and blew one of the little seedlings and went off to her chores.
    Blowing on the wind the seedling grew .

    ” go on you take it”

    “why you don’t want me to, you want it!”
    “I said you take because I want you to have it!”

    The argument wore on for sometime. Each lady determined to be the martyr. Tim sat back at first enjoying the feeling of being the centre of attention but slowly he began to tire. He also began his own internal argument and at last he retired to the privacy of the old wagon and clicking his tongue gently Ned trotted out the gate. Neither woman heard him go.

    Years passed and Tim sat on his porch gazing into the drooping sun and wondered what had ever happened to the two ladies. He had loved them both in his own fashion but the arguing and being called ‘it’ had made him decide to stick to being true. They might never have realised but he owed them for his salvation. His wife, Emily, was the best thing to have happened to him and he might never have experienced such love and joy without the ladies little push.

    Sitting on their little seedling the ladies looked up to Emily and smiled. Their plan had worked and another soul had been saved.


  11. ~~~~~

    I watch the tall Guardian with chiseled features, yet very soft eyes.

    “Why did you call me here?”

    “You needed to see this.” He nodded to his side. “I wanted you to have it.”

    I look at the huge object, shining with a light of its own.

    Hundreds of years searching for it, knowing it could only hatch with me present.

    My hand to the cracking shell, a tingling sensation of awe and anticipation blasts through me.

    As pieces of eggshell fall, wings suddenly spread wide—almost as wide as my smile.

    Born again, my old friend.

    Hello, sweet dragon.


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

  12. Ejan searched the corners of the Gyere cave prison but saw no one. He was certain he'd heard his name echo quietly through the cavernous corridors.

    "It's me, Ejan. Sorin. Did I not promise you I'd be back?"

    "Sorin? Where are you? I can't see you."

    "I've invoked an invisibility ward. I am trying to get you out of here."

    "Why bother?"

    "What kind of attitude is that, Ejan? Do you not value freedom?"

    Sorin didn't wait for his reply. In another instant she created an opening in the cave wall large enough for Ejan to escape.

    "Why risk your freedom to give me mine, Sorin? Your ward will only accommodate one of us."

    "Because I wanted you to have it, Ejan. Even if you say you don't want it."

    "I want it, Sorin," he whispered, but she was no longer there.

    "Foolish girl... You've exchanged your freedom for his." The Gyere said, as the ward slowly came down, revealing Sorin's presence in the chamber.

    "You wouldn't understand," Sorin said.

    Cate Derham
    170 Words

  13. Rox kept her gaze down, unable to look her long-dead father in the eye.
    “Why did you give me this?” she asked, unable to hold back her feelings any longer, despite her patriarch’s ominous presence.
    “Because I wanted you to have it.” He answered flatly, with little hint of emotion.
    “I don’t want it.” She answered.
    “It is yours, regardless. This sword is the legacy, the heritage of our family. Our destiny is to wield it.”
    Finally, she looked up, no longer intimidated by his aura.
    “Ours is a heritage of ruthlessness, of slaughter.” She exclaimed, her voice rising higher and louder than she intended. “I do not want to be a part of that.”
    “We rule.” He answered. “Leadership demands sacrifice, heaviest of which lies on the shoulders of they themselves who lead. Their souls are forfeit so others may live in decent conscience. That is your destiny.”
    “No! I won’t take it. I refuse to have any part of it!”
    Rox tried to walk away. He could not stop her, any more than she could halt the fate that did indeed await her.
    In the future, Rox Iul would lay the Greatsword of Am-Un-Suul on her lap each day she held court, her court, the court of her father and her family.
    Though she was fair in all her dealings, Rox found her father to be correct. Sometimes, leadership meant utter ruthlessness, and the loss of one’s own soul, for the betterment of others.

    Even Sultry
    246 words

  14. KEJORO

    Firstly, Yoshiko was glad that her hair hadn’t suffocated her in the night. Secondly, she anguished at the reality of last night’s events. Her master’s health had been waning of late and she sensed he was getting his affairs in order. That was how she wound up reopening the mausolean south wing that hadn’t been used since long before Yoshiko herself came to work for the master.

    The manor was impossibly old and the young maid accepted early on that one way or another she was apt to be creeped out daily. She just wished she’d been more careful about the sanguine lacquered box that fell out of the oak dresser.

    Now Yoshiko trod glumly toward her master’s first floor sick room, cheeks stained with tears. Her hair was a wild mess completely unbefitting the pressed perfection of her European uniform. That morning she’d used every clip and pin she could gather to try and contain her night dark tresses, but they’d worked their way out already and seemed a good two feet longer than yesterday. At least she was determined to keep the prying strands from getting back into the lacquered box and that beautiful terrible comb she wished desperately she’d left in there to begin with.

    Her ailing master was sitting up when Yoshiko entered. He did not seem at all surprised by her hair or the box in her hands.

    “Why?” Yoshiko found she had nothing else to say.

    “Because I wanted you to have it.”

    249 words

    please ignore if this is a re-post, had a hiccup posting the first time and not sure it went through.

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


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