Weird, Wild, & Wicked

#ThursThreads - Tying Tales Together - Week 288

10/26/2017

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 288 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 in the post (or be excluded from judging)
Include your Twitter handle or email in the post (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 288:

Computer geek, bass player, historical reenactor, and flashfiction writer, Mary Decker.

Mary on Facebook
Mary on Twitter

And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.

The Prompt:

“That's what everyone says.”

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!

Bill Engleson link

10/26/2017 09:54:09 am

TRUMP: No Flash in The Pan

“We’re all quite worried about it, of course.”

“I can hardly imagine the stress you are under.”

“You can say that again.”

“Okay, here goes. I can hardly imagine the stress you are under.”

“Right! That’s what everyone says. But not twice. Or, they might say, I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes.”

“No one ever really says that, do they? That’s not supportive. I am only trying to be a good friend. Besides, slipping my virgin feet into someone’s booties…its so unhygienic. All that shared foot sweat. Yuck!”

“Again, a saying. That’s all that is. But I’m not talking about hygiene. All I am saying is that what he is intending to do is concerning.”

“You’re right. We’re getting off track. I just meant that I can see you are stressed and I commiserate. If he actually goes ahead with it, he would overwhelm everyone. I think it fair to say that he is larger than life. He walks into a room, he sucks up all the air. No one can breathe.”

“That’s the fear. He’s pretty much cornered the Twittersphere. And he’s prolific. But the real kicker, and this is what makes him dangerous to writers of flash fiction, he loves to make stuff up. It’s quite incredible.”

“He’s got the whole country to run. That…and tweeting. Writing flash takes time.”

“Not that much. No, I think we need to accept that he’s making his move. It’s Flash Fiction of bust.”

250 moments of rel fear for flash fictionistas
@billmelaterplea

Siobhan Muir

10/26/2017 10:14:26 am

“Have you heard from Lt. Fitzroy about Corsica?”

“No, and it’s making me nervous. You don’t think he’d give up and just walk away, do you?”

Aiden shook his head. “No, I haven’t met him in person—I think he’s deliberately avoiding me. But from what I’ve seen on the security cameras, I don’t think he’ll let this go. If he could’ve let you go, eh wouldn’t be here two years after you broke up. Hell, he wouldn’t be in Cloudburst at all.”

She sighed and rubbed her face. “How did he find me?”

“When you left Denver did you erase every piece of your existence there?”

Moira frowned. “Not exactly. I mean, we didn’t have any friends in common, just acquaintances, and I didn’t tell them where I was going. But I didn’t go dark like Witness Protection or anything.” She dropped her head to her desk. “Ugh. What did I do to attract this asshole?”

“You once knew him, that’s what.”

“Everyone says you shouldn’t lead anyone on, but I haven’t, Aiden. Seriously, Lenny and I broke up two years ago. I made it clear it was over and I *moved across the state*. It’s not like I left a trail of bread crumbs for him to follow.”

“No, but you didn’t make it impossible, either.”

“I didn’t know I would have to. And now he’s here.”

Aiden patted her hand. “Leave it to Fitzroy and his man MacLaren. I have a feeling they always get their man.”

250 ineligible #CloudburstColorado words
@SiobhanMuir

Angora Shade link

10/26/2017 10:26:25 am

“You don’t have to do this,” Mara said, anxiety rippling through her posture. “You don’t have anything to prove.”

The attendant adjusted the safety harness around Mark’s waist, pulling it more taut to his body. “It’s not about proving anything,” Mark mumbled.

Mara stepped back from the cliff’s edge. The valley below was deep and narrow, the bottom disappearing into an ocean of green growing things. Anything going wrong would mean death. Hearing a final click of a carabineer sent her into full-on panic mode. The attendant gave Mark a once-over, followed by a thumbs up.

Mara grabbed Mark’s shoulders, forcing him to stop and look at her. “This isn’t a good idea!”

Mark’s smile was filled with irresistible charm, and she hated him for it. “That’s what everyone says.” He grabbed her chin, kissed her lips, and lunged for the edge.

She closed her eyes. She couldn’t watch. There was a sudden rush of air as he’d passed, followed by a few short seconds of silence, and then the echoing of Mark’s jubilation mixed with the unmistakable stretching of the giant rubber band.

Mara’s whole body shook. She sunk to the gravel-covered ground and peered over the edge at her fiancé. He continued to cheer, his stretch and return movements becoming shorter as his momentum began to slow.

“That was crazy,” Mara said, wiping tears from her eyes.

“Nah,” the attendant said, loudly chewing his gum. “That’s bungee jumping.”

243 words.
@angorashade

Anne Chowdhury link

10/26/2017 12:14:29 pm

“You’re not real, you can’t be,” I cry out in absolute terror.

“That’s what everyone says,” a voice replies.

“But the existence of Grim Reaper is just myth. It’s a fantasy.”

A deep chuckle sounds from the shadows. “Fantasy?” the voice repeats, its tone mocking. “No, human, I promise you I’m not a fantasy. I’m one hundred percent real. Just like my abilities to claim your soul.”

“Are you going to suck my soul out of my body?”

The voice sounds offended as it answers. “Suck your soul out? No! Souls are not so scrumptious to eat, believe me. Most souls are usually filled with dread when I appear before them. And fear doesn’t particularly appeal to me.”

“Then what appeals to you?” I ask, hoping to bribe my way out of death.

The voice tsks. “You humans are so pitiful. What do you take me for? I’m not just a Reaper, you silly human. I’m The Grim Reaper.”

“Why did you come for my soul then?” I ask in a trembling voice. “I’m a nobody.”

“I’ve seen the future, human,” the voice says. “And you are the one who’ll defy me if I let you live. So you’re more important than you think.”

“Why? What am I destined to do?”

“Was,” the voice corrects me. Just as darkness starts to engulf me, I hear it speak again. “You were destined to create a cure for mortality, but I, your mortality, beat you to the game. Say goodbye to life, human.”

Word Count: 250
@TwiAddictAnne

Silver James link

10/26/2017 12:20:51 pm

“I’m a danger,” Verity said, proud her voice didn’t shatter like her insides had. “To everyone.”

“No!” The windows vibrated from that one snapped word. Roman’s fury swelled until no one breathed—no one but the little witch.

“That's what everyone says,” Verity insisted. Fearless now, she approached the gargoyle. She expected his chest to feel as cold as granite when she placed her palm against it. She found instead a beating heart and warmth seeping into her skin. When had she grown so cold?

“You cannot do this, little one. I refuse to allow it.” He gazed at her, drinking in her face, her wild tangle of hair. He would drown in her silver-blue eyes if she didn’t blink.

“This is my destiny, Roman. You know this…” She patted the spot over his heart. “Here.”

His hand covered hers, dwarfing it. “No.” His denial came on a sighing breath. Roman cupped her cheek, bent to kiss her. To hell with duty, with honor. Verity was his to cherish and protect.

Verity leaned against him then, absorbing his warmth. She would give him this night. And a day. A day spent together doing the things lovers did when in New Orleans. She understood that despite his centuries of living, this fragile thing growing in their hearts was as new to him as it was to her. She would take this time to make memories for both of them. Memories sweet enough to last eternity because that’s all they had.
****
250 Sound of Silence WIP words
@SilverJames_

Paul Piatt

10/26/2017 12:36:30 pm

Everybody's Talking - 250 words

“That’s what everyone says.”

I stopped digging and leaned on the shovel. “What, now you’re a music critic?”

She gave her self-conscious laugh, the cute one that made me fall for her in the first place. “No, silly. It’s just—”

“Just what?” Her doubt nagged at me, and I was glad the darkness of the hole hid the flush on my face.

“Don’t take this wrong, Roy. You’re a wonderful guitarist. Sometimes you miss the right chords. That’s all.”

“So now you’re saying this is all my fault?” I laughed as I dug. “Last night it was Christy. Christy can’t sing. Christy can’t keep the beat. We get rid of Christy, and now it’s all me?

“Not all of it,” she admitted. “Nobody’s perfect.”

I put the shovel on the lip of the hole and clamored out. My open beer on the tailgate was still cold, thanks to the chilly breeze drifting down the mountain.

“We’re a jug band, baby. We play bluegrass music festivals. We ain’t gettin’ rich, but nobody expects to.” I pointed to the hole. “I’ve been doing the work and you’ve been drinking the beer. You need to get down there and help.”

She stared at me. “Are you serious?”

“Hell yeah, I’m serious. Go on, get down there and do some digging. Clear your head.”

She climbed down into the hole. “I think this is big enough,” she said. “Two Christy’s would fit in here.”

“I know,” I said, as I drew my pistol.

10/26/2017 02:07:56 pm

Paul's email: thepiatts@aol.com

Olivia Starke link

10/26/2017 12:49:18 pm

“I don’t think we should. I mean, the place is haunted, right?”

Melinda snorted. “That's what everyone says. Do you want to be like everyone else?”

Paul stared at the dark maw of the cave. It was said whoever entered never came back out. A serial killer had taken his victims in there. The Devil’s backdoor to Hell was in there. A cave-in had claimed the lives of several explorers in there. There were too many stories to know the truth, but everyone could agree that if you went inside, you never saw the light of day again.

“Tell you what, you go in first. I’ll follow.”

Melinda frowned. “You’re a chicken, Paul. I dare you.”

Then came the noise. First a low hum that quickly grew until a keening wail filled the air. Paul slapped his hands over his ears.

“What is it!” Melinda screamed.

“I don’t know!” Paul screamed back.

Whatever it was came from behind them and was closing in fast. Trees cracked, the ground groaned, giants were coming. It had to be giants, Paul thought, because what else could make a racket like this?

“Inside!” Paul yelled, waving toward the cave entrance.

They darted inside the dark depths of the cave, the only escape.
####
“I heard it was a serial killer’s lair,” Mike said.

His girlfriend scowled at the cave opening. “Quit trying to scare me.”

“I dare you to go inside.”

His girlfriend tilted her head. “Weird, do you hear that humming noise?”

@OliviaStarke
249 words

Mark A Morris

10/26/2017 01:01:31 pm

The hooker arched her back and smiled, pulling her fingers through her hair. “I can guarantee you a good time,” she said. “A hundred dollars only.”

I slowed and gave her a closer look. She was dressed as a zombie, with grey grease-paint all over her body. She had some teeth missing too - or so it seemed.

“I’m guessing you want me for my brains. Is that it?” I laughed. “A handsome man like me and you want something I can’t give you.”

“That’s what everyone says,” she gurgled, her voice low and guttural. “Joke’s getting old. You give me the money and we can negotiate.” She shuffled across, almost on all-fours, her body-odour preceding her. She reached over and grabbed my bill-fold, its shape firmly defined though my pocket.

“Hey, stop that! I’ve agreed to nothing!” I backed off and my trousers tore, my wallet falling to the ground. She snatched it up, pushing it quickly under her arm. I was never going to see that again, I was sure. But I had to at least try to get it back.

“Now, lady,” I said, looking around for a policeman. “How about you return that? You’ve had your fun.”

She closed in again, her mouth drooling now. “Fun?” she asked. “You think I’m that easily pleased?” She clutched at my neck, broken fingernails and bones gouging tracks into my flesh. “I’ll have your throat first and then we’ll see what else takes my fancy!”

246 lurching language units
https://twothirdsrasta.blogspot.co.uk/

Sheilagh Lee link

10/26/2017 01:10:29 pm

As the wind whipped through the graveyard beside Colin’s house, I heard a mournful sound that seemed to echo in my brain.
“I got a great deal on the place,” Colin said as he showed me around.
“That's what everyone says.”
“Stay the night. I won’t bite.”
hesitated I didn’t know him well; but he offered me my own room. I agreed.
Awaking before dawn to screeching and creaking sounds; I found a note from Colin saying he gone to work and he’d see be back at seven. That’s when I heard the noises. Grabbing a flashlight and I followed the thuds and scratching noises to the basement. Hearing the sounds of scraping in the back corner of the room, I crept slowly towards it. Tripping I found myself sprawled on the floor touching an old sign that said MORTUARY beside it was a coffin. In the dark corner I could now see a light from a room. Turning the knob I entered the room. The room smelled like antiseptic and there were drawers. Pulling one open I found the body of a dismembered woman in it. Biting back screams I opened all the drawers, one by one only to find them all full of mutilated bodies.
“You’ve found all my secrets you naughty girl,” Colin chastised, “Now what will I do with you?”
“Nothing,” I said as I stuck the stake into his heart and another vampire bit the dust. Chalk another one up to Gabrielle, Vampire Hunter.
250 words
@SweetSheil

Keturah link

10/26/2017 03:19:36 pm

“That's what everyone says.”

“Not me,” he replied.

She looked at him, doubt displayed in her wide eyes.

“Hey, I'm just saying you can try. Or you can just keep complaining. Seriously, though. Who cares what everyone else says?”

“I do,” she admitted.

“Obviously.” Sarcasm dropped from his voice. “But that's gotta change.”

Some of her fears dissolved as she smiled. “Says who?”

“Says me. Now just submit that stupid story of yours. It's really good. I like it. So will someone else.”

She smiled again. “See! Even you think it's stupid.”

He laughed, “Girl! Do I need to tell you again? It's not stupid. I don't care what others have told you. Send it in. And just have faith. You work? So you submit. It's the process.”

“Fine.” Her smile had become a goofy grin.

“Fine? Really?” He appeared very surprised to have won the argument.

“Actually,” her eyes twisted with laughter. “I hit send several minutes ago… I just wanted to hear you say something good about it.”

“Sometimes I don't like the fact you're my sister.”

@KeturahAbigail, 179 words

Mark Ethridge link

10/26/2017 06:34:31 pm

It was Saturday, and Harry didn’t work. Instead, he went to his work shed, “Saturday. Time to go huntin’.” You can imagine his surprise when he opened the door to his shed, stepped inside, turned on the light, and his phone range.

Harry answered his phone, because it wouldn’t stop ringing. It wouldn’t stop ringing, because it was me. “Good morning, Harry! Do you feel like running today?”

“Who is this?”

“‘Cause if I was you, I’d run like hell.”

“Who is this!” Harry was getting angry, which I thought was fine, and seriously funny.

“Look at the ammo stockpile, Harry. Then, run like hell.”

Harry looked, and saw the IED sitting on top of two hundred boxes of AR-15 shells. The IED had a large LED clock on it, that read 10, and started counting down.

“Time to run, Harry.”

“I’ll get you for this!”

“Harry, that’s what everyone says. Now shut up, and run.”

Harry ran from his work shed just as the IED went off. Followed by several thousand rounds of ammo that effectively blew his shed to hell, AR-15s and all.

I spoke on his phone once more, “Told you to run, Harry. You should listen to me.”

Harry hugged the dirt, and screamed into his phone, “Whoever you are! I’ll get you! You’ll see!”

“Oh, Harry. Do you remember Michelle?”

He didn’t answer.

“I be expecting you, Harry.”

I hung up.

235 words
@mysoulstears

Aightball link

10/26/2017 06:36:34 pm

I don't drink. I used to love having a few drinks with friends after a show or going out to the bars. Attending awards shows was my favorite because the after parties made up for sitting through an hours long parade of egos.

I know that's what everyone says. I don't drink. And about ninety percent of them are lying. But there's that ten percent of us who mean it. And coming from someone who could do shots all night and wake with maybe a mild headache, that's saying something.

But things change when you almost die. A drunk driver ran a red light and smashed into the car my wife and I were in. She was pregnant. We all survived, our daughter is healthy, but it changed my thinking. Sure I sound like a walking cliché. But it's true. I'm in a rock band and I don't drink.

My friends still drink a little, but as they all start having kids, I think things are put in a bit of perspective. Maybe we're not the rock band we used to be. And I'm okay with that. We don't need to fit the stereotype; we've done that already. The body can only take so much. And when I woke up after that accident it was over. Once I got back on the road, it's sort of like we all grew up. No more groupies, no more drugs, less drinking. And the shows are more fun now. Funny how that works.

@Aightball
250 words

Daelyn Morgana link

10/26/2017 07:25:39 pm

The Captain blinked, staring at his officer with dumbfounded disbelief. He stuck his finger in one ear and cleaned it. "Say that again?"

"I swear, sir. The witnesses statements all have one thing in common. They swear to have seen a purple people eater flying away from the scene of the crime."

He blinked once more. "Do you need your ears checked, Officer?"

"No, sir!"

He pinched his temples and muttered under his breath. Just what he needed. A bunch of hogwash statements to present to the chief on the murder of five people, with not one solid lead. A purple people eater... For crying out loud...

"You're dismissed, Officer," he sighed, taking the statements from him.

The officer saluted him before returning to his partner.

"Purple people eater..." he huffed, heading for his squad car.

Two hours later he stood in front of the chief's desk in the station, reporting exactly what his officers had told him. His chief stared at him when he finished, then leaned forward over his desk.

"Anderson, if this is some sort of twisted, sick Halloween prank you and the unit are cooking up, I am going to have every single one of your badges."

He gulped, palms sweating. He felt like a damn fool. "No, sir. I swear, sir. They all claim it was a one-eyed, one-horned, flying purple people eater."

Anderson received another glare. "If that's what everyone says, then prove it."

But how do you prove a monster exists?

~*~*~*~

248 Halloween laughs
dae.m.darkwriter@gmail.com

10/26/2017 08:03:17 pm

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

Comments are closed.

#ThursThreads - Tying Tales Together - Week 288

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