Weird, Wild, & Wicked

#ThursThreads - Tying Tales Together - Week 278

8/17/2017

Welcome back to the Weird, the Wild, & the Wicked. Today is Thursday and that means it’s time to start flashing! And now we’re in our Fifth year! This is Week 278 of #ThursThreads, the challenge that ties tales together. Want to keep up each week? Check out the #ThursThreads #flashfiction group on Facebook and the Community on Google Plus.

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.
The prompt must be used as is. It can be split, but no intervening words can be inserted or tenses changed.

Rules to the Game:

This is a Flash Fiction challenge, which means your story must be a minimum of 100 words, maximum of 250.
The story must be new writing, not a snippet from something published elsewhere with the prompt added.
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, etc.

Our Judge for Week 278:

NYT and USAToday bestselling romance author, Cat Johnson.

Cat on Facebook
Cat on Twitter
Cat on Goodreads
Cat on Google Plus

Today is Cat's BIRTHDAY! Happy Birthday, Cat! <3 She also has a new Hot SEALs tale up for pre-order HERE, if you'd like to take a gander.

And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.

The Prompt:

“What do you mean by that?”

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!

Siobhan Muir

8/17/2017 08:38:41 am

Kendra blinked then her eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that?”

Phinn grimaced and wished he could go back to sleep, or at least take the words back. *She’s not going to like the answer.* Hellwinds, he didn’t like the answer.

“Phinn? What the hell do you mean by saying ‘you’re home’?”

He sighed. “I don’t know how much you know about the Sidhe Courts, but there’s only one way to get a surname of “Winterbourne”. You have to be—”

“Born from Winter.”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I’m pretty sure dad was slumming it with my mother. She was part of the Summer Court, one of the long-lived humans who’ve served Summer for millennia. Dad swept her off her feet and married her, swearing up and down that he loved her.” Phinn scowled as the old anger rose. “He made sure she got three sons before he up and disappeared. We aren’t really sure why he seduced her in the first place, but apparently he didn’t get what he wanted so he left.”

Kendra rubbed her thumbs over her tea mug. “Is that why they sent a tracker demon to bring you back to Winter?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t really know why they’re after me, but that’s my first guess.” He shot a look at the sword beside the hearth. “But I also suspect they’re after my grandfather’s sword.”

231 ineligible #WIP500 words
@SiobhanMuir

Bill Engleson link

8/17/2017 10:47:57 am

Trumpster Diving

“I don’t know, man. Maybe Trumps got a point?”

I of course shake my head and down another bolt of pale brewski. My first thought is that Charlie has had a stroke. No way he’s giving the Trumpster an inch. We’re not getting any younger but we’ve still got our principles. Well, we’ve got the Dog and Pony Tavern…and that’s where we generally discuss our beliefs.

“What did you mean by that, Charlie? It’s Trump, for Gods sake. TRUMP.”

“Sammy, Sammy, Sammy, I’m trying to be balanced here. As long as I don’t stand up, that should work…”

“And your point is?” Charlie does tend to flit off onto tangents. We both like tangents.

“Okay,” he starts, “We’re Canadians. Gotta remember that…”

“Got it tattooed on my butt, Charlie. I am a Canuck’s Ass.”

“Smartass,” he says, oblivious to his own weak bun pun. I give him a wide grin, anyways.

“My point, Sammy,” he continues, “is that we don’t do statues all that much up here in the tundra. Back east, maybe…so we don’t see our history in the cold light of day. And maybe we should.”

We all lose brain cells as we age. Charlie more than most, it seems. I try to be gentle. “The monuments are one thing, old friend. The only monuments Trump cares about are his own. Don’t forget, in his mind, he is Rushmore bound…”

There is a glint in Charlies eye. I’ve struck gold.

“Christ, Sammy. What was I thinking?”

250 modest beer-inspired thoughts
@billmelaterplea

Silver James link

8/17/2017 10:49:12 am

Veronica Toulouse admired her manicure, ignoring Griff. Whatever. Didn’t matter because in ten minutes, he would survive this encounter, or die.

“What do you mean by that?” Veronica purred into the champagne glass she raised to her lips.

“I thought the words were self-explanatory. You release Lennox, she and I leave, you live. Easy peasy.”

“Mr. Caine, you are beginning to bore me.” She pressed a button on her phone. The door at his back slid open and her two sumo goons waddled in. “Deal with him,” she ordered.

Griff didn’t put up a fight, which should have been the bitch’s first clue. He knew Toulouse was bluffing about Lennox being on board the yacht. He had to stall until either Wilson or Ghost’s Delta Force team located her. The clock in his head counted down. There was a storage hold on the bottom deck and he figured they were head there. Five minutes. Thing One set a foot on the deck then his body followed as Griff kicked him in the head. Thing Two fell down the steep ladder-steps, unconscious by the time he hit the floor. His phone pinged. Success.

He was headed toward the escape pod when he heard a crying child. Spending time he didn’t have kicking in doors, he located the little girl. Siri. She jumped on piggyback. He ran hell for leather.

The clock hit zero. Time was up. The world exploded around them.
***
250 Team Griffith ASSASSIN’S MOON WIP words
@SilverJames_

Sheilagh Lee

8/17/2017 10:58:30 am

The woman stood on th cliff,her back to me;looking out to sea. I was thunderstruck as she turned and her green eyes met mine. "I'd like to paint you," I blurted. "What do you mean by that?" "I don't mean to paint you nude , unless that"s what you'd like,". I leered. She blushed,swallowed,and then she swallowed,and nodded," But no nudity." I painted her on the cliff side , turning slightly, her green eyes challenging me. Her red gold hair fanning out in the breeze in all its glory. We laughed, talked, getting to know each other. I received many accolades and status as a budding artiste for 'Siren on a cliff' Many wanted to buy it but even though I made the siren mine, I'll never tire of looking at my siren challenging me. @SweetSheil 250 words

Mark A Morris link

8/17/2017 12:59:15 pm

The robot-croupier squared the deck and then merged the two halves of the pack with a blackjack shuffle, performed a series of running cuts to further separate them and then cast the first round of cards to each of the four players in turn.

“What do you mean by that?” she said, answering the spectator behind her, her hands continuing to deal as her head turned to face his. “This is a completely honest house. No tricks, no weighted wheels, no dealing from anywhere but the top of the pack. It’s something the owners insist upon. They consider automata to be the only way to be sure there’s no-one skimming the take or misdealing winning hands to selected players at the tables. There’s never any doubt about the slots, of course; it’s always those in the ‘front of house’ people accuse of corruption. But we’re all as impassionate and as cold-hearted as that contraband mobile phone you’ve got switched on in your breast pocket. We don’t eat, we don’t sleep, we don’t even go home at night. If it wasn’t for local by-laws we’d be working here 24/7. So, tell me again, why do you say we’re a risk to honest gaming and fair-play, sir?”

Cunningham shrugged, pulling out the phone. “It’s easy,” he said, activating an app to override her autonomous functions, enslaving her to his cyborg colleague in his car in the parking area. “Now, you’ll deal me what I ask and say nothing, am I right?”

249 credits to the winning player
twothirdsrasta.blogspot.co.uk

Aightball link

8/17/2017 04:32:05 pm

As a child I rarely remember my parents arguing. But as an adult, I've witnessed an argument or two. And standing in their kitchen now is awkward as hell.

"I grew the fuck up!" my Dad shouts, hands flailing.

"What do you mean by that?!" Mom's coffee cup slams onto the granite counter top, drops of coffee splashing out.

"I did my research. I asked the questions. You're too busy worrying about how we look to your mother!"

Mom dumps her coffee in the sink, steam rising as it splashes against cold metal. She takes the cup in hand, rearing back. For a second, I think she's going to throw it.

"Why can't you support our son?" Dad's eyes never leave the hand wielding the cup. "If this amendment isn't overturned, there are a lot of issues that will arise. If he has a partner and can't get married, end of life decisions become harder. He could be denied a hospital visit. And that's the tip of the iceberg."

Mom shakes her head. "I will not support something that doesn't net me grandchildren. And I know, there are ways to have kids. But I want biological grandchildren, from my son and his wife!"

Dad's eyes widen. "You're a fucking selfish woman. Don't speak to me again until that attitude has changed."

Dad walks away and Mom looks at me. I shake my head and walk out the back door. I will not be back.

@Aightball
244 words

8/17/2017 08:08:39 pm

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

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#ThursThreads - Tying Tales Together - Week 278

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