Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner: Poem – Synchronocity – “Beach Day” #amwriting #flashfiction #poetry


Thanks to Roger Shipp for hosting FFftPP.

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Credit: Roger Shipp

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Sand beach, I bury my toes,

Sand squishes between them, I sigh;

Happy.

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Blue sky so clear, clouds like cotton, 

 Feel at home, reading trashy book;

Engrossed. 

——

Hearing waves crashing in and out, 

Aroma of salt, sea; sun streams;

Sunscreened. 

—–

Scents of cocoanut and aloe 

SPF 100 or I’ll burn quick;

Smoothed in. 

——

Floppy hat and Marilyn swim suit, 

Magazines read while the dog splashes;

Relaxed. 

——

Blanket soft with a bit of sand,

Jackie.O sunglasses worn; 

Content. 

——

Wet dog shaking everywhere, 

Angry crab in dogs mouth shook;

Laughing 

——-

Calm, tranquility; wading in, 

Ocean’s rhythm soothes, stops thinking;

Forget. 

******

 Sky fading purple; ocean green —

Dark and ominous, storm coming;

Watchful. 

——

Rain starts to fall, cold and loud, 

Taking umbrella down, packing;

Forced home. 

——

Perfect beach moment gone for now, 

Sitting in the cabin, storm roars;

Rain pours. 

—–

Sleeping in silken covers, dog stretching,  

She’s bathed, we’re napping, resting time; 

Cuddles. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

 

Finish Off Fridays: The Summons #amwriting #flashfiction 


Thanks to Lorraine from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting FOF. 

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Credit: Lorraine

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“I had never been summoned to Number 208 [by the park] before; I nervously adjusted my coat . . .” A person could book a pick-up online or by phoning into FedEx but you couldn’t summon a particular delivery person, could you? 

“April, it means what I said,” Becky from the warehouse told me on the phone, “I’m not being rude, the lady who lives there wanted you, specifically, at her home.” 

The door was open when I arrived. “I’m here,” a frail female voice rasped. 

Walking into the house I heard the respirations of a woman on a ventilator. She was all hollows and sallow skin. Her hair was whispy white and thinning. Eyes the color of blue-bells greeted me but they were bloodshot. 

The woman grasped a yellow envelope with a trembling hand. She shook the envelope and a key dropped out. 

Her shaking fingers held it out, “For me?” I asked. 

I took the key staring at it in confusion; it appeared ancient. As I examined it I heard the woman gasp something. I moved closer to her and held her hand attempting to hear her strained voice. She shook her head with a ragged sigh and breathed her last.

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Three Line Tales: Low Places #amwriting #music #3LineTales


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales.

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Credit: Edwin Undrade via UnSplash

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The resonance of his voice carries in the arena, an audience enthralled by the first twang of his voice. 

He’s a brilliant musician, the epitome of which other Country artists aspire to be –a world wide known musician, a gifted storyteller, with a beautiful famous wife. 

The cadence of his final song’s chorus resounds as he considers the eight more shows he’s playing here; the last lyrics hover in the ambience of the audience as he leaves the stage:”Oh, I’ve got friends in low places.” 

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Note: Where I live, Garth Brooks is performing. His concerts kept selling out so they continued to add new shows, even weekend afternoon performances, until he was performing for nine shows. We’re pretty impressed that he’d play nine shows in our city. If he added a show or two more I’m sure they’d sell out as well; I still couldn’t get tickets 🙂 

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“Low Places” by Garth Brook

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

How to Make Boring Story Parts Exciting — Kristen Lamb’s Blog


Really good info for novel/short story writing!

Arrowhead Freelance and Publishing

Image by DonkeyHotey/Flickr CC

This is another guest post by blogger and copywriter Alex Limberg. If you have followed my blog in the last couple of months, you have probably come across him, namely because the Stockholm’s Syndrome sets in faster when you drug the candy 😀 .

Once again, I’m going to gently nudge you into the direction of his free ebook about “44 Key Questions” to test your story; it will help you make your scenes tight and compelling and detect any story problem you might have. This time, Alex is showing us a very interesting recipe to keep every single part of your story interesting. Take it away, Alex!

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Uh-oh! It’s showdown time.

In your heart-stopping thriller piece, Tinky the milkman has just found out who poisoned Lady Chatterbee’s canary. Now he is driving to the ash grove for the faceoff in the old mill.

Your…

View original post 1,692 more words

Friday Fictioneer: Field of Broken Dreams #amwriting #flashfiction 


Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting FF.

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Credit: Liz Young

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I was out to meet my friend who lived nearby when I found this ravaged mannequin head. Her exquisite hazel eyes and pencilled brows, lifted towards the sky as if mannequin heaven was there. 

In reality her mutilated head lies in the tall grass. A used beer bottle leans against her face, an empty red cigarette package nearby. 

If she was alive I think she’d be wondering how she ended up here? Why she wasn’t the modelesque mannequin in the window display for Holt Renfrew or at least for H&M. Who had tossed her out like refuse and left her to this fate? 

Count: 91 words

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“Boulevard of Broken Dreams” By Green Day

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

100 Word Wednesday: A Chocolate Seduction #amwriting #flashfiction #100WordWednesday  


Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting 100 Word Wednesdays. 

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Credit: Bikurgurl

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Sweet dark chocolate slides across my tongue, the richness of chocolate icing soft and creamy; the moist cake, competing for flavour with the icing. It’s sweetness allows one to eat it slowly. Too much cake at once would ruin the experience and leave me with an upset stomach. But each bite savoured with pleasure and a bit of vanilla ice cream, ensures my scrumptious chocolate cake is a heavenly experience. 

Across the table you wink, you knew it was my favourite cake and you ordered it for me. Our eyes hold as you eat your own cake and I absorb every ounce of chocolate flavour in mine; eating cake becomes seduction

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Guardian Angels #amwriting #flashfiction 


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

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Credit: Sunyana – http://www.moipenseive.com

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I marvelled at the set of angel lights at the the beginning of each block, with another set of angels at the end, as I joined my friends at a pub. 

It seemed right these angels should be here, watching over the revelry. As I later walked a block down in the early morning hours to catch a cab, I recalled my thoughts on angels as child. 

Sometimes I had nightmares and I was too afraid to fall asleep. My Mom told me not to worry because God’s angels were always watching over me. Still, I looked to the corners of my room afraid because the corners were the darkest places. 

Eventually, I began to imagine angels were there in these corners guarding me as I slept. If I woke up afraid I’d look to the corners of my bedroom ceiling and feel safe. Sometimes I dreamed I could see these celestial beings watching over me. 

Going home that night in the cab I gazed at the angels made of lights, four of them guarding a street; I hoped the night ended safely for all. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Collage Photo Prompt: Poem – Inverted Refrain – “Let Her Be Pretty” #amwriting #poetry 


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s collage photo prompt.

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Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie
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Sunlight dies on the western skies, 

Skyscape of red ignites horizon. 

Hid indoors she inhales, won’t cry;

Phoning him still, though her heart’s torn. 

        He’ll never believe a word cried,

        Poisonous woman; he’s forlorn.

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Night brings blackness; fades the red, 

Setting sun was a sinful fire.

Flaws thrown in her face so she dreads —

Him; so embarrassed she’ll expire. 

         She’ll never believe his word again. 

         Venomous man conspiring. 

——

Out of anyone she should know, 

He’s not trying to hurt her, but —

He couldn’t stay quite, told her so. 

The fight ended; he’s caught and stuck. 

            No good faith, lost love, she runs, goes; 

           Days pass, he knows he lost her trust. 

——-

She wonders, “What’s high-maintenance?” 

Doesn’t he want her to look pretty? 

Tries to change her, their relationship, 

No hair-stuff, cream; bet he’ll regret. 

        Let her be; care and maintain, 

        Lipstick her therapy; don’t spit. 

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What of self-esteem; for at work? 

He doesn’t get, looking fine is work. 

She needs to keep up, she’d prefer —

He wouldn’t judge her, for her quirks. 

       More than makeup, clothes; she’s hurt, 

       Does he love her? Off he flirts. 

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He didn’t think such a little thing, 

Could grow so big she’d leave him first.

Taking the dog, breaking some things, 

Remote broke; busted flat screen, irks

        Awake all night sunrises’ bring, 

        Some hope, she’ll return; for he learned —

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Never to judge a woman by her looks, 

Let her get ready for too long. 

Let her spend cash, don’t brook, 

On small things that make her feel strong 

         She’ll come home; she’ll smile, haircut book, 

          He who is wise benefits long.

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 
         

Photo Challenge: Poem – Quatrains – “Tale of The Floating Bride” #poetry #amwriting 


Thanks to NEEKNERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s photo challenge prompt. 

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Credit: Zhangjinga.com

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Enchanting child in slumber keep, 

Red hair surrounds you as you sleep. 

I wait for you to wake from your dreams, 

No longer a porcelain doll preened. 

*****

A wedding gown white lace so frothy, 

Mother hoped your match was lofty.

That you’d found your life partner, 

Your prince, your man, for life to start.

*****

But day by day you grew sad, 

When pressed with his kisses ran. 

Empty feeling inside you grew, 

Like a butterfly away flew.

*****

Mischievous child, pain grew, 

His fist at your face straight-on flew. 

Hiding the bruises with powder,

Not even concealer shrouds

*****

Pride vital to you, tiny doll, 
Escaped; no one to catch your fall.
Fly in dreams with delicate wings, 

Winter ends, it’s soon your spring. 

*****

Gather your courage –call it off;

Don’t marry him, don’t be soft.

In front of the crowd, show each cut, 

Let them see bruises, you must. 

*****

So they know an abuser, 

Isn’t good enough, he’s a loser. 

He broke your velvet wings, 

Your sanity held by strings. 

*****

But it was too late even then, 

The lake too close; so your end.

Now you float, butterfly who swims, 

Eternity of light your win. 

*****

We tried to save a doll of glass, 

But on death she shattered, passed. 

Down below the water’s dark depth,

She’s tranquil, free; although, she leapt. 

*****

Mind too distorted, destroyed, 

Lover’s hands threw her like a toy.

World tough; his madness changed them both, 

In Heaven she smiles free to float. 

*****

He mourns her death each day, each drink, 

Pretty soon his rage him too sinks. 

Accidents happen to the unaware, 

She pulled him in, drowned his despair. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.