#ThursThreads

Cursed – Thursday Threads

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Clay gazed into the mirror regarding the deep lines etched in his unfamiliar face. His thin pale skin sagged, accentuating tired, bloodshot eyes. Dark orbs scrutinized him, sliced through his bravado and accused him. He reached his hand toward the glass and hesitated. Gnarled, fingers wore protruding blood vessels that threatened to burst through parchment.

“Isn’t this a pretty mess?” his reflection mocked.

The image flinched, as the words cut Clay’s soul.

“The magic is gone,” Clay protested, “I can’t fix it.”

“Oh, but you can.”

“How?” Clay watched the tendons in his neck bulge as he spat the question. He reviewed and discarded his options, which he could count on one hand.

“I told you. You must lose to win.”

“You keep saying that, but it makes no sense. What more is there? I’ve given everything,” Clay’s voice broke, he bowed his head in defeat as he grasped the edge of the filthy sink to support his sagging frame.

“I had that dream again,” he admitted. “Maybe today. Maybe tomorrow. But he’s coming for me.”

“Find the answer,” the words vibrated through him.

The command rolled like thunder, shaking every cell in his frail body. Clay relaxed and gave up. With the resistance gone, he felt the curse lift and his power surged in, filling the voids. Intoxicated from the rush, he looked at the mirror again, and saw a familiar face. It smiled at him

“Took you long enough,” his reflection said.

“Time to end this wizard war.”

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

On the Menu – Thursday Threads

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snowballs coconut cakes

Photo credit: hddod on Visual Hunt / CC BY-NC-ND

“They are so sweet,” Mira cooed as she bent over the makeshift hydroponic tray and reached to pet the furballs.

“Don’t touch them,” Dexter yelled, slapping her hand away.

“Ow. What the—? Why not? They want to snuggle,” she snapped at Dexter as she rubbed the red mark on her wrist.

“They bite.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she leaned toward them again.

“I have the scars to prove it,” Dexter said as he watched Mira lean closer.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. And don’t expect me to stitch you back together.”

Mira glanced at him and smiled.

“They wouldn’t harm me, would you, my precious babies?” As Mira spoke her voice took on the sing-song quality mothers use when they speak to infants.

“Did the big, bad human hurt my little darlings?”

Dexter stood mouth agape as the furballs nuzzled Mira and made a noise he had never heard before.

“Yes, tell Mama how he stole you from me,” she said stroking them.

“Wait, a minute here. I stole nothing. They were being ejected into space with the garbage. I saved them. I’ve done nothing since I found them but try to take care of them and find their mother. They have bitten and scratched me for my trouble.  Not to mention the shots and stitches. And now you accuse me of stealing?”

“Humans are a strange species. Why would you save them when most creatures consider our babies tasty treats?”

“I guess we’re gluttons for punishment,” Dexter sighed.

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Jo Hawk The Writer

Logic Bomb – Thursday Threads

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Photo by Saffu on Unsplash

Tonk and I skidded to a stop, taking cover behind an overturned truck. Blaster fire flew above our heads as the drones advanced.

“Christ,” Tonk’s chest heaved as he sucked air into his lungs, and he reloaded. His eyes narrowed as he looked at me, and a worried frown spread across his face.

“Jeb?” he said my name slowly. It was a warning.

“They have a weakness, you know,” I said.

“That right? Well, I sure don’t see it. All I see is unstoppable blaster fire. Take out one drone and another appears.”

“You haven’t noticed? They do everything together.”

Tonk’s expression told me a lot.

“Control says turn left, they turn left. Control says neutralize target—“

“Yeah, I get it. They’re doing a damn good job of neutralizing us.”

“That’s just it. One target. They can’t process multiple targets.”

Tonk stared at me.

“Look at them.” I pointed through the busted window. Tonk watched the advancing drones.

“They’re only shooting. They’re not aiming at anything.”

“So?” Tonk shook his head, “How’s that help us?”

“Remember the drone I took apart?”

Tonk nodded.

“There’s a piece of code.” I stopped, realizing Tonk wouldn’t understand what I needed to do.

“If I can get to their programming, I can write a routine and force them to fire on their own command.”

“So, you need me to nab another drone for you?”

“Yep.”

“Next time just ask. Back in a second.”

Tonk smiled and disappeared around the side of the truck.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Can’t Say Goodbye – Thursday Threads

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Photo by Blake Barlow on Unsplash

I placed a listing on the web for her. I landed a new job. I was moving across the country, and she no longer fit my plans. It was nothing personal. We had a great run, and great memories of our time together. They say nothing lasts forever.

A guy named Chet answered my ad, and we set up a time to meet so he could look her over, take her for a ride. Chet required the service she could provide and offered cold hard cash. I didn’t refuse.

I was sad to see her go. I thanked Chet for taking her off my hands. I wished her well and tried to forget about her.

The next day my phone rang.  It was Chet.

“Could you please tell me her name?”

“What?”

“What’s the car’s name?”

“I called her Baylee. Why?”

“She won’t let me drive her. Says she only works for people who know her name.”

“Baylee,” I repeated.

Several hours later Chet was banging on my door. When I opened it, he threw the keys at me.

“I want my money back. She only wants you and I’m not about to put up with her shit.”

Chet raged at me while I counted out his cash and I was happy to see his backside.

In the driveway, I stroked her fender before climbing in to start her. She purred.

“I missed you too, baby,” I said as I caressed her dash.

“I promise, I’ll never let you go.”

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

Along the Primrose Path – #Thursday Threads

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Photo by Alex Iby on Unsplash

Raindrops splatted, plonked and plopped on the leafy canopy as we made our way forward on the squishy trail. Lightening flashed in the distance, I sucked in my breath and counted.

“One Mississippi, Two Mississippi, Three–” before the thunder rolled over us. It grabbed my stomach and heart and shook until I thought I would vibrate off the trail.

Ahead of me, I watched Thora’s back stiffen, and she stopped. She raised her hand, and I also stopped, obeying her command.

“What do you hear?” It was a strange question to ask since Thora didn’t “hear” in the normal way. She shot a glance at me which clearly told me to “be quiet.”

It was then that an oversized, white rabbit jumped onto the trail. It stared at Thora. There was something familiar in the rabbit’s eyes. Recognition struck me as Thora bent to scoop him into her arms.

“Thora, no. It’s Zeus.”

It was too late, Zeus had wrapped all four of his bunny paws around her.

“Damn it, Zeus. Can’t you control your animal desires?”

Zeus smiled when he looked at me.

“Oh, Pan. Who do you think you are? You dare to reprimand me for my animal desires? You can’t protect her. She is mine now.”

Zeus’ momentary distraction was all Thora needed. I watched her lips move, and her body shimmer in a diaphanous transformation. Thora’s laughter floated on the breeze. It shook the leafy canopy and doused Zeus with a cold shower of raindrops.

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Jo Hawk The Writer

Fearless Leader – Thursday Threads

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Photo by Nicolas Thomas on Unsplash

“Step away from him and slowly lay the knife on the altar,” Abbie said stepping from her hiding spot. Startled eyes swiveled towards her and the automatic rifle she held. The one with the knife did as she told him.

“Let me assure you if I fire this gun, someone’s gonna be dead,” she continued, “Now, line up in front of the altar.”

Abbie watched as twelve robed figures slowly obeyed her command.

Rodger squirmed on the ground, struggling to get to his knees.

“You okay, there, Rodger?” she asked.

“I had everything under control, until you walked in,” Rodger grunted as he worked to escape from the amateur’s bonds.

“I see. Had them right where you wanted them, did you?”

“Exactly,” Rodger said as he continued struggling with the knot.

One of the robed figures moved, perhaps thinking Abbie was distracted.

“Easy there, big boy. Remember? I fire. You. Dead,” Abbie flicked the muzzle at him, motioning for him to move back.

Once free, Rodger walked to Abbie.

“Geez, Abs, if you had just kept quiet,” he began.

“If I had held my tongue, you’d be dead.”

“I was running out of options,” he grinned as he stepped past her.

“Dead,” Abbie repeated, backing out of the cavern.

“Everything is so black and white with you, Abs.”

“What about the device?” Abbie whispered, watching the robed figures.

“I have a plan.”

“Is it as good as this one?”

“We’re clear. Follow me,” Rodger said.

Abbie turned, and they ran.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

 

Nothing But Love, Babe – Thursday Threads

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four-women-siting-on-a-NYC-park-bench

Photo by Chris Murray on Unsplash

Jeremy heard the doctor’s question. Shifting in his chair, he stared outside. Water trickled and dripped from the icicles clinging to the eaves. Drip, drip, drip. Each drop marking time with his heartbeat, frozen and somehow still alive.

“Jeremy?” her soft voice prodded.

He looked into her doe brown eyes and remembered Meghan’s eyes. His heart constricted, he felt panic and gasped.

“Easy. Breathe slowly,” she instructed.

He closed his eyes, steadied his breath.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

“I don’t know what to feel.  I mean, how would you feel?” Jeremy glared at her.

She said nothing, waiting.

“You come home early and find rose petals leading to the bedroom. You open the door, thinking she will be there in a sexy negligee. She’s there all right. But she’s not alone.”

Jeremy paused, covering his face with his bandaged hand.

“Go on,” she coaxed.

“I never suspected. They weren’t supposed to know.” Jeremy scrubbed away his tears, “I was so careful. I had a system, a good system. They shouldn’t have found out. I don’t know how they did.”

“But they did?” the doctor pushed.

“They said they loved me. How could they hurt me like this?”

“We found Margot,” she said. Jeremy’s shoulders slumped.

“And Martha, and Madeline,” she said as she walked to the door.

“We also know about Mariah and Makenzie,” the doctor paused, letting the names sink in.

“Perhaps, you got off easy,” she finished.

Jeremey listened as she shut and locked the door.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

The Ace – Thursday Threads

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Photo by kychan on Unsplash

Her eyes never stopped moving. He watched them roam the room, looking at the rows of filing cabinets and the papers piled on every horizontal surface. The office was dark the way he liked it. The only illumination was a small green-shaded lamp on his desk. He waited until her eyes rested on him.

“Do you know him?” she repeated.

“He is your husband?” he countered, lighting a cigarette as he contemplated her.

Elsa looked at the paper clenched in her hand.

“That doesn’t matter. They said you were good at this. The best.”

“I am.” He leaned back and inhaled turning the end of his cigarette cherry red. “Can I help you…”

“Catch him?” Elsa interrupted and shifted in her chair. Perched on the edge, she leaned forward, gripping the desk’s curved contours, her dark eyes bore into his soul. He wasn’t sure what she hoped to find. Seconds passed like hours. He let the time tick away until she finally spoke. Her voice was soft, but her words cut him like a rapier.

“Yes, and when you catch him, you will kill him.” She swallowed, breathing rapidly as she thrust the crumpled paper across the desk towards him. She unfurled her fist, releasing the death sentence.

He could feel her watching as he carefully opened the paper, watched his face turn ashen as he read it, watched him process the words.

He lifted his head, his eyes locking with Elsa’s.

“I will kill him for you,” he said.

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer

In A Corner — Thursday Threads

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Photo by NeONBRAND on Unsplash

“I need you to stay quiet and out of sight,” Marie said, searching her two babies’ faces. “Joshua, take care of Annie, okay?”

His lips form a hard line across his face and Annie looked scared, her sweet two-year-old mind incapable of understanding. Joshua wrapped his arms around her, holding her close.

Marie placed her index finger to her pursed lips, smiled, then closed the cabinet door. Gripping the gun behind her back, she listened as the intruder searched for them.

She turned facing the locked door. He was getting closer. She listened to his footsteps, watched the doorknob shake.

The door shook, bouncing in its frame as the intruder kicked, once, twice. The wood splintered with a sickening sound and cracked around the hinges. One more kick and he would be in. The gun wobbled in her hand. It was heavy, and terror threatened to consume her, as unshed tears blurred her vision.

“This isn’t helping. You’re all they have.”

She inhaled, planted her feet hip distance apart, squared her shoulders and adjusted her grip. Steady now, her terror receded, replaced by anger.

“How dare you break into my home? Threaten my babies?”

A final kick sent the door flying inward, crashing to the floor, it skidded towards her. She didn’t flinch as it stopped inches from her feet. Face to face with the intruder he stared at her for a moment before he howled. It almost sounded like laughter, but she wasn’t laughing.

Marie took aim and fired.

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Jo Hawk The Writer

Under Contract — Thursday Threads

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Photo by Samuel Zeller on Unsplash

I freed her from the black velvet hood. She recoiled from my touch, and I placed my hand on her shoulder to steady her. Beautiful blond curls had escaped the manipulated updo and caressed my hand. Breathing deeply, I savored the sweet aroma of strawberries and fear.

I removed her gag. I was sorry for the red marks the silk tie left on her tender skin. Sorry for the force I used to tie it hours ago.

I took my time folding the tie, placing it into the hood and laying the hood on the alter. Kneeling in the dim candlelight, her hands bound behind her, her ragged breathing slowed. I waited, breathless with excitement.

She raised her head seeing the throng of robed, masked figures staring at her.

“Do I need to explain why you are here?” I asked, knowing my voice echoed, ethereal in the marble chamber.

“This…” her voice wavered. She licked her lips. “This is my initiation?”

“You signed the contract?” I said more a statement than a question.

“Yes.”

“You have been sworn to secrecy?”

“Yes.”

“You are here of your own free will?”

“Yes.” Her voice was steadier, but that would change.

“You pledge yourself to The Order of the Seven Assassins?”

“Yes.”

“You will sacrifice yourself upon the Sacred Alter… Tonight?”

She trembled. The witnesses leaned towards her, hoping, waiting.

On her cheek, a single tear left a glistening stain.

Gathered her courage, she inhaled, and in a calm, sure voice, replied, “Yes.”

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Keep on writing.

Jo Hawk The Writer