Sunday Photo Fiction: We All Look


Dressed in cut-off denim shorts and a black halter top, a slim figure with rounded breasts and hips, distracted men who passed by her at the race track.

Many females with their men, gave the woman dirty looks. Elma elbowed Nathaniel.

“I can’t help it,” Nathaniel complained. “It’s a biological instinct.”

“Yeah right,” said Elma is wife of thirty-years. 

“It’s true Elma. Men naturally stare at other woman, it’s an evolutionary thing.” Nathaniel said.

“Oh hell. Did you have to bring this up?” 

“Let me explain. Once men look they’re done. Even if in that moment we’re comparing a pretty lady to our wives, we don’t remember what woman we were looking at.” 

Elma muttered something under her breath.

“I’ve never been able to not look. Most guys would say the same, even our sons. But your average guy doesn’t want to be with a stranger he’s giving the once over,” Nathaniel said.

“We’re with our wives because we love them. Because we like being with them, even if their figures aren’t perfect, or they have stretch marks from babies, it doesn’t matter.”

Elma stopped walking. “I guess that makes sense. But why are you still checking out that woman? You’ve already seen how she looks?” Nathaniel mumbled something.

At the same time, local male strippers were signing posters for women at the race track. Elma shrieked, “I’ll be right back.” 

Returning, she peered at her signed poster and back at the shirtless muscular strippers with a smile on her lips.

 “Ahem,” Nathaniel said. 

Elma smiled at Nathaniel and clasped his hand in hers.

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Sorry for the lateness on this prompt. I’m not into race car driving and had to think of a way to approach this picture. Thanks to Alistair Forbes who hosts SPF.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

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How Much Should You Spend On Self-Publishing Your Book?


This might be helpful to many of you!

Jens Thoughts

how_-much_to_chargeI received an article with this information and wanted to share. Although I didn’t use Reedsy for editing and my book cover, I found I fell within most of the pricing ranges.

One thing I didn’t see on this infographic was the Q&A time with the editor. I certainly had questions as I moved through the process and the last thing I wanted was to be left hanging if my editor said, “this doesn’t work in the plot.” I’ve worked with previous editors who would make a comment and instead of being able to ask a few questions you had to make the changes, submit, and pay again. I’m not clear what Reedsy offers, but if you’re looking for an editor, it’s an important topic to ask about.

By Maryann Yin on May. 2, 2016 Reedsy Self-Publishing Infographic (GalleyCat)

Until Next Time…

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Maydays: Fiction – The Truth About Marrion.



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Thank you to K L Caley from new2writing for hosting the Mayday prompts. Today’s prompt is skeletons in the closet.

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http://www.larrylawhead.com

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Who is this woman beside Uncle Terrance in a wedding dress? Was he widowed before he married you?” Aunt Rosie gazed at Katie as if she had found something she shouldn’t have touched.

“Where did you find that Katie?” 

“Oh, it was out on the table by the front door. I saw Uncle Terrance in there today, taking out some boxes.” Katie said.

“Are you okay Aunt Rosie? You’ve gone pale. What’s with the picture?” 

Aunt Rosie shook her head.”I can’t. I just can’t,” she said, holding her throat.

“You seem out of breath. Maybe, relax a moment and I’ll make you some lemon tea. Do you want to tell me about this photo Auntie? I think you would feel better if you did.” Katie remarked. 

Aunt Rosie began to hyperventilate. It took a few minutes but Katie calmed her down. ” Nice deep breathes Auntie. That’s it, now here’s your lemon tea. It will soothe your nerves.”

Aunt Rosie sat silently and finished her tea. After about twenty minutes, she began to speak haltingly.

“Your Mom and I . . . we had a little sister, her name- her name was, Marrion. She was – was a younger sister. Only, twenty-seven when she passed on.” Tears ran down Aunt Rosie’s usually cheerful complexion.

“Your Uncle Terrance and Marrion loved each other, from -from the day they met in high school. Marrion was sixteen and Terrance had only graduated. He was working at his Dad’s construction company.” 

“Mom, never said anything about her having a baby sister,” Katie said stunned.

“Sharon and I, we don’t like to talk about Marrion. There’s a reason,” Aunt Rosie remarked.

“Terrance married Marrion when she was only seventeen. I had always had feelings for Terrance, but Marrion didn’t care. She said Terrance loved her and she was right.”

“For six-years, everything was fine. I managed to hide my feelings about Terrance and Marrion and Terrance were in their own world of love. Marrion became pregnant at twenty-three and had a girl she named Lisa.” Aunt Rosie admitted.

“What happened to this baby and was Marrion alright? I don’t have a cousin named Lisa?” Katie questioned.

“I know you don’t Katie, let me explain. It’s time – time you knew the truth . . . Marrion suffered from Post – Partum depression. She didn’t care about the baby and could barely get out of bed.” 

“For the last four-years of her life, Marrion was in an institution. She kept trying to kill herself. Marrion easily became immersed in self-loathing.” Aunt Rosie recalled.

“Sharon, Terrance, and I, we wanted the old Marrion back. No medication seemed to help her. ECT only made Marrion distant, it was if the real Marrion wasn’t there anymore.”

“Who raised Lisa?” Katie wondered aloud.

“Your Mom raised her dear. Terrance asked her if she would be Lisa’s guardian. He said he couldn’t handle taking care of Lisa while working and visiting Marrion.” Aunt Rosie’s voice began to quiver.

“One day Marrion wasn’t in her room or even in her ward. We found her hanging from a storage room ceiling.” Aunt Rosie sobbed.

Katie went to comfort her but Aunt Rosie held Katie back.” Lisa isn’t Lisa anymore. Your Mom raised Lisa from the time she was three-months-old.  Lisa’s your older sister Denise.”

“What?” Katie gasped, having to sit down herself. She was shocked.

“Your Mom asked Lisa after Marrion died,  if she would like to choose a different name for herself. Almost five-year-old Lisa chose the name Denise. It was the name she had given to her most treasured Barbie.” 

Aunt Rosie’s admission hurt Katie.”How did I not know Denise and I weren’t sisters, but cousins? We look so different in appearance. Her hair is auburn and my hair is blond. She has curves and I’m athletically built.” 

“Not to mention, Mom never told me who Denise’s Dad was, she said Denise had been the result of an old boyfriend she didn’t want anything to do with now.” Katie said aghast. 

“How did you get together with Uncle Terrance?” 

Rosie smiled: “Terrance was devastated when Marrion died and had loved her so much. But he needed comforting.We grew closer and got married.”

“It took a few years, but Uncle Terrance eventually loved me as much as he’d loved Marrion, but in a different way I think. Things came together and Sharon met your Dad and had you. We never spoke of Marrion to anyone but your Dad.” 

Aunt Rosie had stopped crying. She smiled and Katie could see she was happy again, as if a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. 

Katie thought about her Aunt’s revelations: “That’s unbelievable Aunt Rosie, you guys have all been hiding this from me. I need to talk to my Mom.” 

“Oh, you can’t ever tell Sharon, dear.” 

“But why?” Katie said frustrated.

“I promised her, Uncle Terrance promised her, and so did your Dad. You were never to know the truth about Denise and the sad fate of Marrion. Sharon was close to Marrion because they were nearer in age. Marrion’s death is a wound your Mother carries and it never heals.”

Katie sighed. “I wish Grandma had told me about this before she died.” 

Aunt Rosie smiled softly. “She never knew the truth either, dear. We told her Marrion had a reaction to a new medication and died.” 

Katie shook her head sadly,” Talk about skeletons.”

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers: Poem – Free Verse – “Weight of a Little World”


I hold a small world on my classic physique, with my fortitude.

Holding up this bridge and pathway, doesn’t matter my attitude,

For it’s one of being cursed in marble, and accepting my sorrowful lot,

Having made the mistakes I’ve made, the gods left me to rot.

Pondering the beach, as Atlas pondered and beheld the heaven’s light rays, 

I bend my head, and think of the day, and to gods beyond Zeus I pray, 

Release me from my prison, veins of liquid blood congealed.

My stone figure, muscled, and taught; made to endure forever, concealed.

Bracing myself on stone, solid rock, muscles strained, no thought, and no slipping, 

Not even able to see my own face cringing, the expression rain is chipping,

My own little world on my back, I hold my personal pain; I hold your fate.

For mine’s an eternity braced as I am, scanning earths children; nothing to do but wait.

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Word Count: 154 words

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momtheobscure

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Thank you to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAP.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.