Alone (#ThursThreads)

Yay, first #ThursThreads post on my new blog! Less new now, but still. A little flash-fiction is always good. Here are the rules for #ThursThreads, hosted by the smexy Siobhan Muir. <3

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 7 PM Pacific Time
  • The winner will be announced on Friday, depending on how early the judge gets up. ;)

Prompt this week: tell me I’m not giving my life away for nothing.

“Just one thing,” he said. “Tell me one thing.” The rain slammed sideways, pelted their heads.

“What?” she asked. “Anything.” It was the least she could do. Damon and she had a terrible history. Their love was always hard, always cutting. But he had always come when she needed him. Even if it meant him dying.

“Just tell me I’m not giving my life away for nothing. That you’ll get out of this shit. Black magic is killing you. You can’t always pull yourself back. There’s not always going to be someone to lay their life down for you.”

The words were knives. But the rain washed away what blood they left. So, Joan swallowed the rising bile and answered. “I’ll stop.”

“I hope so,” he said. He turned to the swirling vortex.

The colors would forever stay locked in her mind. The swirling black whirlwind teetering on the shining cement. The slash of red from a wound when Damon stepped toward the vortex, arms outstretched as he chanted in a forgotten language. The flutter of his green jacket as he fell to the ground, convulsing, though one arm remained outstretched toward the demon.

She’d called it. But he would put it away.

The funnel shivered and began to dissipate. The demon’s face flashed in the dying cloud. He grinned, flicked his tongue and disappeared.

Damon’s hand fell to the ground. And Joan was left alone with the rain.

Not much time left to get yours in, but checking out the other pieces is always fun. :D

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