Weird, Wild, & Wicked

#ThursThreads - Tying Tales Together - Week 298

1/11/2018

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 298 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 don’t have to look for 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 298:

Typo Sniper, author, and #flashfiction queen, Cara Michaels.

Cara on Facebook
Cara on Twitter
Cara on Goodreads
Cara on Google Plus

And now your #ThursThreads Challenge, tying tales together.

The Prompt:

“Come on, smile.”

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!

Silver James link

1/11/2018 09:39:27 am

Staring at the passing scenery, Lauren sighed. Deeply. Time to shatter the brittle silence stretching between them. “Come on, smile,” she teased.

Shooter scowled but didn’t speak, nor did his expression change.

“What’s the worst that could happen? It’s not like your face will break or something.”

Did he just *growl* at her? Fine. If Shooter McCord planned to act like a grouchy old bear, she’d just get a big stick and poke him. Lauren considered herself a little—okay, a *lot*—nosy for wanting to figure out his nickname. She burned with the need to know the story behind said name.

“So…do you shoot people? Or just bore them to death?” Yes, that was definitely a growl. She revised her animal comparison. Not a bear. Something more feral, and to her, far more dangerous. Wolf. And her heart stopped. He knew about Black Root. Which implied he knew what Black Root had been doing. Which meant he might be working for them. Which meant she needed to get out of this truck right this instant.

“Yeah, I’ve shot people.”

She froze, terrified.

“Breathe, Lauren. I was a SEAL. I’m called Shooter because my BUD/S class challenged me to a drinking contest after graduation. Taking shots of tequila. I won.” He glanced at her. “Aren’t you going to ask how many?” She shook her head. “I’m not one of the bad guys, Lauren. I will keep you safe.”

Lauren attempted to believe him. Her life depended on it.
****
250 #TeamShooter WIP words
@SilverJames_

Siobhan Muir

1/11/2018 10:11:53 am

"Hey, Killian, you got a moment or three?”

“Yeah, I got a few. What’s going on?”

“I wanted to know if you were still in contact with Master Chief Finch, the guy who came to talk to us about our friends down south.”

“Right, I remember him. I think he retired from the Navy.”

Deli’s gut sank. “Shit. Do you know who’s filled in for him?”

“No, I haven’t heard. But I did hear some scuttlebutt on him starting his own surveillance, security and rescue company. You might try Googling it along with his name, Cyrus Finch.”

“So you can take the man out of the SEALs, but not the SEAL out of the man.”

Killian snorted. “Hooyah, Chief.”

“Hooyah. Thanks, Killian. I’ll definitely try to get in touch with him.” He pushed off from the tree at his back. “How is the whole Instructor thing going?”

Killian chuckled. “Oh, it’s going good, though not so much for the recruits. Between Ghost and me, they’re wishing they’d tried out for the Marines instead of the SEALs.”

Deli laughed at the thought of his two previous teammates harrying the BUD/S recruits. “You know, the only easy day was yesterday, but I’m kinda glad I don’t have youse guys to look forward to for Hell Week.”

Killian rumbled a laugh. “I keep telling them, “come on, smile, this is the easy part,” but they just don’t see it that way.”

Deli snorted as he shook his head. “Little do they know.”

249 ineligible #TeamDeli words
@SiobhanMuir

Sheilagh Lee link

1/11/2018 10:14:42 am

“Come on smile.”

Those words echoed over and over in my mind. I wish I’d walked away, never responded to the ad for a model. I thought I was suave, sophisticated and I could handle anything, I was wrong. I was a much a fool for flattery as anyone. He was a photographer. He told me I was beautiful and hired me as the model for his ad. At first he just continued to flattery me giving me compliments that wore me down and then I started dating him. At first he seemed charming that is until I said I do. Then he insisted that I was flirting with other men if any man looked at me. He struck me for the first time and I forgave him. He insisted it wasn’t my fault that I was beautiful, I was never to model again stay home and wait on him hand and foot. Like some simpering fool I obeyed him. The rosy glow of love had surrounded me with some kind of fog that made me think it was entirely my fault. That is until today. Today he blackened my eyes, after the convenience clerk smiled at me. When I protested he continued the beating breaking my ribs and my left arm. I thought I was going to die.

There’s banging on the apartment door; the police want to come in. The neighbour’s must have heard the gunshot. I step over David's body, let them in and hide a smile.
250 words
@SweetSheil

Bill Engleson link

1/11/2018 11:34:17 am

Looking good, Stan

Stanley Trocker had that kind of face. Not an unpleasant visage to be sure. One could safely gaze upon it in a certain light without being engulfed by a mudslide of revulsion. No, whatever deficits he had, facially speaking, eyes that darted left and right without warning, lips that were by many standards, much too thin for another’s canoodling comfort, possessing an unevenness which suggested smirk more frequently than most polite societies would tolerate, Stanley Trocker was generally perceived to be a pleasant fellow, amiable, collaborative.

As an infant, he appeared placid. “Something wrong with that child,” his mother’s sister, Rose Whittier said a month after his birth.

“He’s just a thoughtful child,” Stanley’s mother Helen replied. “And has very little gas…”

“A blessing, I’m sure, Helen,” Rose replied. Then, with one of her infamous rubber faces, Rose thrust her contorted countenance up to baby Stanley’s nose, belted out ‘goochie goochie-goo’ whilst tickling him, pleading, “Come on, smile for your Auntie Rose, Stanleykins.”

Instead of engendering a classic grin, infant Stanley burped up sour milk all over Rose’s paisley blouse.

“Oh, my goodness, Rosie,” said Helen. “That was unfortunate. Let me get you a cloth.”

Helen departed leaving a flustered Rose staring down at the odd baby. Whether gas or fear, baby Stanley’s lips seemed to her to be smirking. “You’re a strange child, nephew,” she whispered.

The years flew by.

Stanley lived an uneventful spartan life.

He never married.

Some say he had the last laugh.

250 bits of flu-inspired baby humor
@billmelaterplea

Keturah Lamb link

1/11/2018 11:35:04 am

Come on, smile, if you want. Keep the facade alive. For the longer you pretend to be happier the more chance you have of it being so.

Show the world you’re OK. Happiness is good. Be positive. Be positive. POSITIVE.

Nothing is bad. No negativity.

We live in the best country, the great U.S.A. Freedom lives because we’re told it’s true. Our prisons aren’t full of innocents — we’d never allow that. Those that say otherwise are just cranky, trouble causers. Everyone has a home. Everyone has a a fair chance to become more. We need to send missionaries elsewhere, for there’s none that starve or freeze among us. All of us have the chance to make a better life just by breathing American soil. No injustice, no wrong, no premature death.

We are a selfless people living for liberty, respect, unity.

Happy. Be happy. Choose to be happy. Take more pills if you’re not quite happy. Drink. Party. Pretend there’s nothing to be done. Believe the lies. Smile.

Rights turned into privileges. What does it matter? Care. Who cares? What is there to care about? Nothing.

Nothing is wrong with you, with the world, with us.

Just keep smiling. Keep playing the game of a perfect, privileged life.

210 words by @KeturahAbigail

Lauren Grinder

1/11/2018 02:09:31 pm

No! This can’t be happening. This isn’t supposed to happen.

But it is.

I run as fast as I can over to him. Lucas. I can’t get to you fast enough.

And then I’m there. By his side. Slipping in the blood.

By heart is breaking. The pain of it is going to tear me apart.

Somehow he is able to look at me. I can’t tell where he was wounded, there’s too much blood. But it must be bad.

His eyes light up. Those eyes that have always been so innocent and full of hope.

Now they’re so empty and betrayed.

I know there is nothing I can do.

“I just want to see one last thing.” his voice says, pulling me out of the stupor I didn’t realize I was in. I barely even recognize it. “Your smile.”

“What?” I ask. This can’t really be happening. Right?

“Come on, smile.” He urges me with whatever strength he has left, “I’ve only ever seen it once. I want to see it one more time.”

A simple request.

The one thing I don’t think I can do.

“Just think of that time when you were teaching me to dance and I kept stepping on your foot.” He says.

I do. Probably the time he remembers me smiling. We had so much fun.

“There it is.” He breathes before I even realize what my mouth has done.

He smiles in return. The last thing he ever does.

246 words by cardwellauren@gmail.com

Lizzie Bella

1/11/2018 02:18:12 pm

Camila Parra walked over to Carlos Avalos and said, “Come on, smile.”
“Camila how can I smile when she stole my project. All my work and time went down the drain and the muckity-mucks took her away and stopped all presentations.”
“Don’t worry Carlos I am sure that…”
“Will you just stop!” he interrupted as he jumped out of his seat. Camila stared at him astonished at his rudeness and walked out of his office. She heard him call after her, but she could not allow him to see her break down like a ballbag.
She rushed towards the restroom and bumped into Myriam, Carlos’s nemesis. Myriam looked as white, as the Pillsbury Doughboy.
“Are you alright?” Camila rushed over and caught her as she collapsed.
“They… knew…”
“Knew… who knew what?”
“They…” Myriam’s labored breathing escalated, but she managed to squeeze out, “knew…I-I…stole… Carlos…they shot-t m-m-me.”
“Who shot you. Myriam…” Camila shook her lifeless body.
“Help…Help! Somebody please…”
A week later the F.B.I. escorted Carlos off the premises in handcuffs. He never looked up, nor said a word.
Two weeks later, as Camila exited her bathroom, Carlos sat on her bed. He smelled like wind and dirt. His eyes cold and soulless met hers. Camila splayed her hand over her chest in an attempt to calm herself.
“Carlos,” she swallowed her fear, “How did you get in my bedroom?”
“Window.” He jerked his head sideways and then clasped his teeth onto to her neck with bloody gusto.

@chattmor
248 words

M.T. Decker link

1/11/2018 02:58:48 pm

Turn Down Servcie

“What is wrong with you!?” Alex demanded as he started and Victoria’s state of undress.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?” She demanded. “I would have been perfectly happy to leave you alone, and then you had to give me the biggest come on line in the book.”

“’I need some sleep’ is a come on?”

“Consider where you are…” she warned.

He paused, staring first at her, and then the other Fey in the area. He had to admit, wanting sleep in the land of Nod might have another meaning. “So… “

“Sleep Fairies see that as a request for service,” Victoria explained.

“But… what if I need sleep?”

Twelve leering fairies appeared, surrounding him, each vying for his attention.

“Oh, come on!”

“Smile, they won’t take long.”

131 words (not including title)
@mishmhem
#FlashDogs

Mark A Morris link

1/11/2018 04:00:58 pm

“Come on, smile.” She took hold of my hand and squeezed, her mouth turning up at the corners.

“It’s hardly appropriate. Look around you. We’ve all just been to a funeral.”

She looked about the bar at everyone else, each one of us soberly dressed.

“I know,” she hissed, so only I could hear. “But that’s entirely my point. We’re all of us alive. Survivors. We should celebrate this…this day. This day of living. Any one of us could be dead tomorrow.”

I squeezed her hand back, my mouth now curving into a smile.

“Now look who’s being morbid!”

Imogen rolled her eyes. I laughed - I couldn’t help myself.

“So, what now? What do you suggest we do?”

“I don’t know.” I checked out the others. Each one of them was busy reminiscing. They all seemed to have forgotten we were there.

A foot appeared in my lap from under the table. It was attached to a smooth, stockinged leg.

“You still thinking?” Imogen grinned. “Or do I need to make it easier for you?” Her foot began to move, her toes flexing slowly. “I can do this for as long as you like.”

“Indeed…yes…or do I mean no? I don’t know…” I pushed my chair backward, the feet growling across the floor, turning to see everybody’s faces.

“I’m sorry,” Imogen said, standing up and then retrieving our coats. “I’m afraid we have to go. Michael’s suddenly feeling overcome. Isn’t that right, darling?”

“That’s right,” I said, smiling awkwardly.

250 impetuous words
https://twothirdsrasta.blogspot.co.uk/

Aightball link

1/11/2018 05:53:53 pm

I stand back to admire my handy work. The little boy, who is around five, with longer dirty-blonde hair, and a round face, frowns. "Come on, smile! You look great!"

His mother grins, despite the sour look her son shoots at me. "Yes, you look great!"

"But I don't want to be a shepherd! I want to be Jesus!" he stamps his foot, the bottom of the robe fluttering off the floor.

It's not often I get unhappy child actors from church.

"Well, you got the part of the shepherd. And that's still important."

He pulls the headdress off and holds it in his hand. "This is uncomfortable."

His mother takes a deep breath at the same time as me. I'm sorry he did get the part he wanted but there's nothing I can do about it.

"Connor, either you wear this or we won't go to Grandma's for Christmas."

He and his mother lock eyes. Hers are hard, her mouth in a thin line. His brim with tears and his lower lip trembles. Shaking, tiny hands put the headdress back on. He sits down on the floor, tears rolling down his face. I hope he's not going to throw a tantrum.

"Fine."

He crosses his arms and stares at the floor. I relax, walking behind the counter to start the paperwork for the rental. I'm reminded now why I prefer adults to children. When they leave ten minutes later, I'm relieved. I hope the play goes off without tears.

@Aightball
250 wors

Mark Ethridge link

1/11/2018 06:25:53 pm

After the incident with Julia, and the ensuing arrests of damn near everyone who knew her, I knew it was time to visit the city jail. “Where they’ve put everyone for safe keeping. Right.” I started by locating Samantha and her family. They’d isolated Samantha from her parents. Of course, her parents were kept in separate, gender based areas.

Four officers of the law entered the men’s holding cell, found Samantha’s father, promptly broke four of his ribs, and bruised several of his internal organs, and declared he shouldn’t have put up a fight, then drug him off.

I watched as four officers entered the women’s holding cell, found Samantha’s mother, and drug her off.

Samantha and two officers were in a locked questioning room, while four officers watched the video feed from that room. I watched as they threw Samantha against the wall, broke her jaw, and nose, and busted her lips, before stripping her, and proceeding to whip her with their belts. “Tell us what we want to know!”
I imagine they were a touch confused when the door to the room exploded inward, and a voice said, “Come on, smile for the news feed,” and something invisible broke the neck of one, and the back of the other. Those watching the video feed were surprised when, seconds later, they suffered similar fates.

I found the father being beaten, and the mother being raped. More officers breathed their last breaths.

“I warned you.”

245 Words
@mysoulstears

1/11/2018 08:03:15 pm

#ThursThreads Week 298 is now CLOSED. Thanks to everyone who wrote this week and I hope to see you next week. :)

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#ThursThreads - Tying Tales Together - Week 298

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