Weird, Wild, & Wicked

#ThursThreads - Tying Tales Together - Week 331

9/20/2018

Welcome back to the Weird, the Wild, & the Wicked. Today is Thursday and that means it’s time to start flashing. We’ve reached our Sixth year of weekly prompts! This is Week 331 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 331:

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:

“This isn’t the first time.”

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!

13 Comments

Eric Martell link

9/20/2018 07:53:08 am

233 words

@drmag00

Every time I died, I’d return to life with the same thought.

“This isn’t the first time.”

This isn’t the first breath. This isn’t the first cry. This isn’t the first word. This isn’t the first step. This isn’t the first day of school. This isn’t the first broken bone. This isn’t the first broken heart. This isn’t the first time. This isn’t the first job. This isn’t the first apartment. This isn’t the first time I met you. This isn’t the first time I fell in love. This isn’t the first time I proposed. This isn’t the first time I lied. This isn’t the first time I betrayed you. This isn’t the first time I begged. This isn’t the first time you laughed in my face. This isn’t the first time I held you down. This isn’t the first time I made you beg. This isn’t the first time you died. This isn’t the first time they caught me. This isn’t the first time they strapped me to the chair. This isn’t the first time I died. This isn’t the first time in the afterlife. This isn’t the first time I was judged. This isn’t the first time I was found wanting. This isn’t the first time I escaped. This isn’t the first time I was reborn. This isn’t the first time I went hunting for you.

“This isn’t the first time.”

Cara Michaels link

9/20/2018 09:16:14 am

I ignored the first knock on my hotel room door. Washing the day away trumped unexpected and unwanted guests. I scrubbed my face as a second round of thumps tried to summon me. I lifted my face from the shower spray.

“Go away!”

“Not happening.” Graham’s distinctive baritone carried through the door.

“Shit.” I debated rushing, but I still had blood crusted on my skin. “Five minutes.”

The door beeped and opened.

“Son of a—”

“My mother is a lovely woman, actually. Four-fifty,” he said, passing into the sleeping area.

I rinsed and towel-dried in three, tugging the thin cotton tight around me as Graham filled the bathroom doorway.

“What are you doing here?” My heart rabbit-kicked in my chest. “Besides abusing police authority to get a key.”

“I didn’t need my badge.” He smirked. “The desk clerk is a trusting soul.”

“A soon-to-be-unemployed soul,” I grumbled.

“Be nice.”

“Why are you here?”

“I’m high on adrenaline.”

“This isn’t the first time you’ve experienced a post-survival adrenaline rush.”

“True.” He boxed me in against the counter, barely whispering against my ear. “But this is the first time I’ve found someone I want to share that rush with.”

“Graham.”

“I need you.” He skimmed my hip with a gentle hand, drifting up, fingertips curling over the top of the towel. “Let me in.”

I shivered at the layered meanings in those words.

“Please, Red.”

“Damn your English manners.”

He tugged the towel away.

“Bless them, if they get me you.”

@caramichaels
250 WIP words

Siobhan Muir

9/20/2018 10:03:36 am

Caroline wiped her mouth and shot Deli a smile. “That’s was a great meal, Chief. But you’re still not taking Trace with you.”

“Well then, I’ll just have to come back here so I can be with my dog.”

Time stopped and the silence stretched. Deli met her gaze and his amused smile never slipped. *Holy shit, he’s serious.* He’d said he wanted to come back and work with her and the dogs, but she hadn’t expected him to really mean it. It seemed like something men said when they wanted a little nookie. Oh, she believed he felt that way at the moment he said it, but she didn’t think he’d admit it in front of everyone here.

“You thinkin’ of retirin’ from the Navy, Chief?” Cyrus sipped his glass of water as he raised an eyebrow.

Deli shrugged as his chin dipped. “Maybe, if I have something to look forward to. I can’t keep doing this forever, and I’d like to retire before my body quits on me.”

No one mentioned the possibility that he’d be killed on any given mission.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve been thinking about it, but I’ve been trying to figure out what I’d do after.” His gaze rested on Caroline’s, the stoic mask in place.

*He’s giving me a chance to tell him to jump off a cliff.*

“Well, if Caroline doesn’t snap you up, I’ll have a job opening for you.” Cyrus shrugged, his amiable smile in place.

248 ineligible #BetaSquad words
@SiobhanMuir

Marci Baun link

9/20/2018 10:37:18 am

Tammy hated her life, hated everything about it. From her job to her apartment to her crappy, rundown car to her ex-boyfriend, all of it sucked, including her boss, Peter.

“This isn’t the first time. I can’t keep cutting you slack.”

Sure . . . Slack. That’s what he was calling it now.

“But, you know, if you’re <i>real</i> nice to me, I’ll forgive you this one last time.”

She needed this job. She hated it and hated him, but she needed this job. Losing her job and apartment meant moving back in with her parents and proving them right—that she couldn’t take care of herself.

Swallowing the bile rising in her throat, she limped forward. “What do you want this time?”

A knowing smile split his handsome face. “You know what I want, Tammy. Unzip my pants . . .”

141 words
Marci Baun

Sheilagh Lee link

9/20/2018 10:47:31 am

“This isn’t the first time Mrs. George, that William has been caught in a lie.”
“I’m sorry, my husband and I have been trying so hard to make him tell the truth.”
“Today he claimed that he hadn’t kicked Debra and then grabbed and kissed Debra against his will. He did his homework and that his father was an astronaut and he was very rich. This is very serious. We’re suspending William.”
“For how long?”
“We’re concerned that William is not a good fit for this school; maybe he should have home schooling or private schooling.”
“Please don’t do this. It’s not his fault.”
“Really and whose fault is it yours, or your husband’s?”
“Politicians and other people lie every day. He sees this on the news and he thinks this behaviour is fine. He hears about old white men getting away with sexual harassment and rape in the past. He may be influenced by that culture.”
“You should speak to him about that and don’t you think as a parent you should be limiting his screen time?”
“We’ve tried it’s hard to keep him from it. We’ve tried speaking to him about what he’s heard on the news.”
“Maybe you need to take him to a psychologist or psychiatrist. Then maybe we could think about William attending school again.”
“I’ll do that,” Mrs. George replied.
Mrs. George and her husband continued to make excuses for William. William never changed; he’s now one of the highest judges in the land.
250 words
@SweetSheil

Katheryn Avila link

9/20/2018 12:15:23 pm

"Sorry about the dust. This isn't the first time I've had to hide here, but I try not to come back often. Safer that way."

Nate's eyes widened. At least he was emoting again. "You took enough money to fund this place, and they didn't notice?"

The bunker was just a few rooms, aside from the lift. For obvious reasons, I dedicated the most square footage to my lab. I had everything I needed to figure out how the serum changed him. Across the large room, one door led to the sleeping space/kitchenette, and the other to the bathroom. The room's lights flickered to life as we walked across.

I shrugged. "I was in charge of company finances and embezzlement is surprisingly easy to get away with when no one is looking. Plus, I'd been planning on leaving for years before I actually did."

"You were in charge of finances?"

"Keeping me out of R&D was supposed to keep me in line." I led him across the room. "Bed's through here." Opening the door, I showed him the cot and where I kept my vacuum sealed sheets and blankets. "Get some sleep while I wipe the place down."

I turned to leave, but he reached out, stopping me with an icy-cold grip. "Selah, about before-"

"Don't." This close, his lack of body heat was a stark reminder of what I did to him. "You have every right to be upset. Just sleep. I'll get you when the lab is ready."

250 aimless WIP words
@katheryn_avila

Bill Engleson link

9/20/2018 02:09:33 pm

Wake-up Call

In the sharp sunburst of morning, there was a warm, foul scent in the air. Robbie was scrunched under the covers, close to the edge of Rick’s bed, waiting for something to happen.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his shape, rising like bread, on his side, still, but there.

A main road went right by the apartment. Horns, squealing tires, voices, the hums, the rattles of engines, all noise unfamiliar to her, collaborated in a painful symphony of clatter.

The bedroom door opened suddenly and his mother, the witch from her evening’s nightmare, thundered in, screaming, screeching, “get the hell up, both of you, whaddaya think this is, a frigging resort?” and then slamming the door.

While she had bolted straight up in response to the tirade, Rick had barely moved.

Beyond the just-slammed door, the harangue continued.

She didn’t want to be the first to say something, but Rick remained buried in his blanket and seemed unwilling to do as his mother demanded.

Finally, she had to ask him. “Is she always like that?”

He didn’t answer.

She tried again. “I said, is she…?”

That got a response. “Christ, believe me, this isn’t the first time she’s howled at the moon. Bitch is nuts. Angry. Alkies on the wagon are like that. She is, anyways.”

It was his place. His mom’s. Robbie needed direction.

“Shouldn’t we get up?”

“Why?” he asked. “It won’t get any better.”

Robbie thought, “Yeah! Guess it won’t.”

250 outbursts
@billmelaterplea

Silver James link

9/20/2018 03:48:06 pm

“We need to talk to her.”

Doc slouched in his desk chair and didn’t quite meet the eyes of the men standing in his office. “She’s sleeping.”

Easy rubbed his temple and Doc noticed the dark circles under his eyes. All the Nightriders looked exhausted. Saying no to one of the club’s enforcers wasn’t a good idea but they didn’t pay him big bucks because he was a pushover.

“I sedated her.” He held up his hand, stopping their protests. “She’s in bad shape and can’t talk. Her jaw’s broken.” Doc realized how very tired he was. He’d worked on the girl for hours and the things he’d discovered made him nauseous.

The hair on his arms prickled as low growls filled the air. Every Wolf in the room had flared nostrils. They claimed emotions had scents and he wondered what they were learning from his: disgust, rage, deep sadness? In his career, he’d seen it all. Until this group of angry bikers delivered the injured girl into his care.

“What the hell, Doc?” Easy asked.

He had to tell them. “This isn’t the first time.” He nodded at X-rays glowing on a lightbox fastened to a wall. Old bone breaks, poorly healed, were obvious. “It gets worse.”

The Wolves’ rage was palpable. Easy exchanged looks with the others. “We’ll have to lock Hardy down.”

“He’s not the only one,” Smoke growled.

Doc wondered how it would feel to kill rather than heal. His hands got bloody either way.
****
250 Nightrider #TeamHardy words
@SilverJames_

Mark A. Morris

9/20/2018 05:28:37 pm

The cube strobed again. This time it silvered over, the laboratory disappearing behind it. There was a smell of burnt solder and a puff of heated air and then we stood looking forward into the past.

Adams was the first to react. He was through the barriers before we could do a thing to stop him, rifle at the ready, firing shots at the creatures before us. He must have taken down four or five of them, the rest of them running away to regroup on the hill, baying down at us and shaking their wings. We’d only had the portal open for ten seconds and it looked like we were already at war.

“Well, that went well.” Duncan crouched over the bodies, picking at their remains. They were bipedal and had a pair of arms, recognisably not human but still remarkably similar. The largest one was wearing a loin cloth, its face bisected by a mouth like a shark’s.

“Yes. It’s fabulous. The first manned journey into the past and we’ve already potentially compromised the Earth’s timeline.” I looked over to the right, where Adams was establishing a camp, noticing he’d already set up an automated sentry-bot to protect the area in front of our route home.

“This isn't the first time.” Duncan said, abruptly. He pulled a sling from the body, removing a very familiar object. “Or if it is, Smith and Wesson must have been established a long, long time before we thought they were.”

248 NRA millennia ~ twothirdsrasta.blogspot.com/

Patty Dump AKA Patty Knowles link

9/20/2018 06:23:01 pm

An icy chill slammed into me.
“Well, Choco, this isn’t the first time we’ve had to move the sheep to avoid a snow storm. Let’s herd.”
My long-haired shepherd yipped excitedly and flew toward the meadow. “Wish Pa was here.”
I slung my pack over my shoulder and followed the dog.
Near the herd, I saw a stranger.
My steps slowed as I watched the man and Choco. Each seemed to be greeting an old friend, but that was impossible. Choco had never had an owner but me. I’d raised him since finding him as a puppy.
I yelled, “Hey, what are you doing with my dog?”
I began running and tripped as I reached them and falling hard onto the frozen ground.
He laughed. “Are you hurt?” He reached out to help me rise, but I avoided his hand.
“I guess not.” He green eyes darkened.
“Let go of my dog. Who are you?”
“Joseph. I was headed to Meadowlake, but there’s a blizzard coming.”
“And?”
“Well, I decided to seek shelter. Look at the clouds. That storm’s moving fast. We should get the sheep down into the corral.” He pointed. “There’s a lean-to that will shelter them and the cabin will protect us.”
“There’s no us, and you can find a different shelter.”
The first flakes fell on his long eyelashes.
“No time.”
“Then stay with the sheep.”
“Now, miss, that’s not going to happen either, and we both know it.”
243 words
@pattydump1

Aightball link

9/20/2018 06:43:40 pm

A thousand stars dot the sky, as my canvas hammock swings back and forth. The night is still and cool, fall descending on Iowa. My camera rests in my hand. I need to practice my manual focus, so I zoom in on Venus and fiddle with the focus ring on the lens. This isn’t the first time I’ve tried this and I never get a clear shot.

Snapping the photo, I zoom in on the back of the camera and nod; it looks clear. I’ll know more when I get it up on the computer, of course. I twist the cap off my drink, what most people would call an ‘alcopop’, but I like them. They’re fruity, a little fizzy, and low alcohol.

Five years ago, quiet nights were rare. I never saw combat, but I saw the aftermath. Being stationed at Landstuhl Regional Medical Center in Germany, we were the second stop after the field hospitals. From us, most soldiers went on to America, depending how bad they were.

Returning to the States after my tour was over, I was stationed at Walter Reed Medical Center until I retired five years ago, after twenty years in the Army. My family was certainly glad because the long deployments were over. As much as I enjoyed my service, I wouldn’t trade nights like this for the world. Peaceful, still, Iowa nights in my hammock, shooting the stars. I don’t miss the stress. Being home is where I belong.

@Aightball
247 words

Barbe Crabtree

9/20/2018 08:03:54 pm

“This isn’t the first time.” Her voice trailed off as she looked down at her hands. “I’ve known that you have been sneaking out when you thought I was asleep, but I have been waiting for you to come and talk to me about it. I always felt that we had a special communication bond, but I guess now that you’re in your mid-teens, you don’t want to share stuff.”

Her son shifted on his feet, sighing quietly, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the right words. She knew him so well, and yet she was hurt to think he was becoming sneaky in spite of all her efforts to raise him to be honest and straight forward. “Mum, I’m not up to anything awful, I promise you. I just have to do what I’m doing for another month and then it will be okay.”

“Have you borrowed money that you have to pay back? Loan sharks? Bullies? What have you got into?”

“No, nothing like that! You know me better than that, don’t you?” Tears welled up in his eyes at the thought of his mother mistrusting him to that extent. Money was very tight in their household, but they managed each month to pay bills and the rent.

“I guess, if you must know, I am delivering pizza because I get tips and have put a cell phone on lay-away for your birthday. I need to know you are safe.”

245 Words
barbara.crabtree@shaw.ca

9/20/2018 08:13:18 pm

#ThursThreads Week 331 is now CLOSED. Thanks to everyone who wrote this week and I hope to catch you next week. :)

#ThursThreads - Tying Tales Together - Week 331

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