Fiction, Flash Fiction, My Thoughts, Relationship, Sunday Photo Fiction, Writing, Writing Challenges

Sunday Photo Fiction: The Perfect Equation #amwriting #flashfiction 


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting the August 20, 2017 SPF. 

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Credit: A Mixed Bag – Alistair Forbes

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Simon was a scientist working for NASA. He hadn’t thought he’d marry until he saw Nancy. He was walking past her office and the sight of her muttering equations with her hands twisted in her long brown ombré hair made him stop. 

Her skin tingled. From the corner of her eye Nancy saw an attractive dark haired man studying her. She didn’t recognize him. “Can you come back in an hour? I can’t lose my train of thought.” 

Then, she felt a hand on her shoulder.”Here you need to do this.” 

The man pointed out where she was having problems on her laptop screen, astonishing Nancy. She noted his thick navy glasses frames on his angular face. She could also tell he was taller than her. Most of her dates eventually told 6′ 0″ Nancy she was too tall and/or fat. 

She breathed deeply shivering, was this chemistry? “But what about this? I tried what you said, it’s not what I’m missing,” Nancy told the man.  

They argued over her equations for the next three hours. Nancy was to her surprise completely comfortable around him, learning his name was Simon. She didn’t mind how near he’d pulled his chair. 

By 6:00 p.m. Simon realized he’d been so absorbed in Nancy he hadn’t noticed everyone else had gone home. “Nancy, would you let me take you for dinner? I’ve kept you too long, you’re probably starving.” Simon’s thumb grazed her nape. 

“I would love that,” she said. 

Two years later Nancy was pregnant. Simon created the finishing touches to their baby’s Space Ship mobile. He didn’t want his son to hurt himself, by being able to reach the mobile. 

“The nursery’s amazing.” 

He kissed her. “So are you.” 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Children/YA/Family, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Nature, Sunday Photo Fiction, Writing, Writing Challenges

Sunday Photo Fiction: “Moonshine and YouTube” #amwriting #flashfiction 


Thank you to Alastair Forbes for hosting SPF August 13, 2017.

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Credit: A Mixed Bag – Alastair Forbes

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“Should we tell the police?”

“Tell them what?”

“About the zombie. What was he?”

Hank covered his face with his hands.”Not a zombie, Ted. Just a homeless guy.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, zombies aren’t real. Only on The Walking Dead.” 

“How do you know? Ever seen one? I did.”

“Trust me. You didn’t. This guy was scary but he was human. Angry too, when you ran at him screaming.”

“I would remember doing that.” Ted narrowed his eyes at his friend. 

“Listen, I told you not to drink your Grandpa’s moonshine. One of these days he’s going to notice you’ve been stealing gulps.”

“That’s besides the point. The homeless guy is an actual zombie. The police will believe me, Hank.”

“No, Ted, they won’t. Your ten, they’ll think you’re telling tales.”

“There’s the homeless guy stomping out of the police phone booth, now,” Hank muttered. 

“Let’s get him!”

“I think he called the police. You were badgering him too much.”

“Was I?” 

“Yep, I doubt he was impressed with a drunk kid punching him as he was trying to sleep.”

“Where were you when I was fighting this zombie?”

Hank laughed,”I was filming a video of you for YouTube. You’ve got thousands of views.” 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

100 Word Wednesdays, Free Verse, Health, History, Interior design, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Nature, Nonfiction, Photography/Visual Art, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

100 Word Wednesday: Poem – Free Verse – “Sing me a Melody” #amwriting #100WordWednesday #poetry 


Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting #100WordWednesday’s on August 16, 2017. Poem for Oneta Hayes of the blog: Sweet Aroma

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Credit: Bikurgurl

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Sing me a melody, 

Write me a song.

Songs of celestial glory. 

Of love that’s deep sweet. 

Save me from the dark, 

Inner demons disguised. 

Write for me, 

Crystal clear notes,

Ones angels simply respire. 

Sing me a melody, 

Calm and serene. 

Of the cereulan blue sky, 

Of hope in eternal life, 

And time past misery. 

Sing notes cascading, 

Sung lentement with —

Unbending trust; 

That those in “[D]arkness

Have seen a Great Light.” 

Sing me a melody, 

Tear drops on cheeks. 

Of joy, deliverance —

Of liberty, and grace. 

Sing harmoniously, 

Or in a caphella. 

With light’s pure —

Luminescent brilliance —

Never snuffing out. 

Sing me a melody, 

As light as air that trills. 

Glimmering with sunbeams, 

Ringing with care for hope. 

Simg of vivacity, 

Surpassing the dark of night. 

Sing me a melody, 

Of healing that restores. 

Sing songs of bravery, 

Of endurance. 

Songs overcoming shadows, 

And landing in the dawn.

Sing me a melody, 

Bring me sweet relief. 

Among beauteous architecture, 

For all those times gone by. 

Sing me a melody;

Surrounded by the skills, 

Of artists and writers 

So profound there work, 

Sings me alive. 

Sing me a melody, 

For all I wish for is peace. 

In sleep to hear, 

Sonorous songs. 

Transcendent, complex, 

Yet, utterly simple as —

Those words that say, 

“Be still.” 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

100 Word Wednesdays, Fiction, Flash Fiction, History, My Thoughts, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

100 Word Wednesday: Her Perfect Vocation #100WordWednesday #amwriting #dystopia


Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting #100WordWednesday August 9, 2017.

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Credit: Photo by Jane, Twitter

——–

 Lacey shook out her golden hair. Deborah eyed her daughter,” We’re here Lacey, this is where you’ll find out your vocation.”

“But I don’t even know what I’ll wear tomorrow. I’m not even sixteen.”

“The judges decide. Since long ago, each consecutive group of them provides citizens with the right jobs.”

” I’ve many interests. Not one.”

“Life isn’t fair, Lacey.” 

Deborah smoothed her skirt down three times.”They don’t know your thoughts. But the rigorous testing you’ve done, your DNA, genetic lineage, your social interactions, and other scientific data guides the Judges.”

“But you said they don’t know my thoughts?” 

“They’re not going to ask for your opinion. They know.”

“That’s the problem, Mom. There’s more than ‘knowing.’ There’s that feeling that tells you your purpose deep down.”

“They Judges don’t consider feelings or emotions. They don’t see people beyond their job skills.” 

Deborah shushed Lacey. Her hands trembled. “Whatever they say, Lacey, that’s your vocation.”

“Outcasts don’t last long, your father’s one and that life’s harsh. They’ll watch out for that ‘rebellious spirit’ in you.”

“I can’t keep my true-self masked. I’ll be miserable.”

“No one’s happy here,” Deborah whispered. 

But Lacey didn’t hear her. Deborah watched her daughter ascend the ancient silver staircase and knew her daughter would be searching for her father soon. 

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Fiction, Flash Fiction, Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer, Health, My Thoughts, Nature, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Peddling Back to Life #amwriting #flashfiction 


Thanks to the lovely Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW August 8th, 2017 Edition. 

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Credit: Dorothy

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Mike peddled with little effort yet his face was dripping sweat as a hot candle dripping wax. Each peddling motion on the tandem bike was agony.

“We have to stop, Tommy.”

“Nope, I promised you we’d get you fit.”

“What if I don’t want that? And why hills?”

“Hills are the best for doing intervals which burn fat better.”

“Who cares?”

Tommy frowned. “I care because I’m your brother.  I realize you’ve been depressed, that finding the right medication has caused you significant weight gain.”

“I also know antidepressants make you extra hungry and that eating makes you feel better since Beth’s death.”

Mike halted the tandem bicycle. “Don’t ever talk about her.”

“I will, someone needs to tell you the facts. The Doctor phoned you and I answered your phone, thinking it was important.”

“I was right. The Doctor’s concerned your blood pressure has skyrocketed. He says you’re quite obese and that if you don’t eat well and exercise you’ll get diabetes.”

Mike growled, turning to glare at Tommy behind him. 

Tommy shoved him. “The Doctor told me so I could help you. Beth chose death so your healthy daughter could live. Tira is two and being raised by her grandparents. That isn’t right.”

“I’m in no shape to raise, Tira.”

“That’s sad. Remember your therapist said, in our family session, that most of your problems are set behaviors, that can be altered? Depression isn’t to blame for everything.”

Mike shook his head, disagreeing. 

“I’ll help you, Mike. We’ll take it one day at a time.”

“Todsy’s day one, right?”

Tommy grinned, “Yep, and stop whining. I’m doing most of the peddling, not you.”

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Current Events, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Rictameter – 2,4,6,8,10,8,6,4,2 – beg/end same, Sunday Photo Fiction, Writing, Writing Challenges

Sunday Photo Fiction: Poetry – Rictameter – “Streets A New” #amwritimg #poetry #flashfiction 


Thanks to Alastair Forbes for hosting SPF.

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Credit: J. Hardy Carroll
———

Empty, 

Thoughts with empty —

Dreams; never meant to inflict,

Such pain, no anxiety, hurt —

done unintentionally

Not considering, 

Empty. 

——-

Bare streets, 

Abandonment, 

No one comes here, danger —

Lurks in sun’s zenith and night’s chill.

Lost lonely souls wander, 

Hopeless; shifty —

Bare streets. 

——-

Broken, 

Boulevard with —

Dreams in smithereens; pieces —

Of what could’ve been, deserted. 

Littered streets, none tread 

Improvements left, 

Broken.

——

Why fix? 

Somewhere no one —

Ventures? Bring beauty to  —

Dank tenements abandoned? 

Some people still live here, 

Shuffling through, 

Why Fix? 

——-

Broken, 

I can’t hull stones, 

Nor restore past glories, 

I’m no architect with dreams of —

Organic design where the 

Forgotten dwell, blurry —

Eyed and hopeless, 

Broken. 

——

Hope means, 

Skilled developer, 

Notes potential in ruins, 

Will see masked brilliance beneath the —

Treachery; Boulevard —
Where someone sees, 

Hope is. 

——-

Anew, 

I can’t remould, 

Your splintered heart, pristine, 

I can stitch the pieces together, 

So in time, stitches fade,  

Heart heals almost, 

Anew, 

———

©Mamdibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Current Events, Finish Off Fridays/Saturday Mix FlashFiction, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Nonfiction, Photography/Visual Art, Poetry, Quadrille - 44 Words, Writing, Writing Challenges

Saturday Mix: Poem – Quadrille – ” Two Days in a Life” #amwriting #poetry #saturdaymix 


Thanks to Teresa of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting last week’s SaturdayMix Prompt on writing about ‘Routine.”

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Credit: Clark Young via UnSplash

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Powerful nightmares, 

1:00 p.m., awake. 

Writing begins. 

Interior Design, 

Eyelash tips. 

Straightener Reviews;

Botox, CoolSculpting, 

Short stories. 

Increase ‘Showing,’

Less ‘Telling.’

Vivid imagery, 

No dialogue tags. 

Strong verbs, 

Few adverbs.

Fracturing story;

Perplexing process. 

Convince readers,

Believe fiction.

Specifics, 

Without ambiguity.

1:00 a.m.,

Energy annihilated. 

Sleep awakes, 

Lethargy fading. 

Yoga poses, 

Meander outside, 

Conversing, 

Real world life. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

100 Word Wednesdays, Fiction, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Photography/Visual Art, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

100 Word Wednesday: “Heart Break” #amwriting #flashfiction 


Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting #100WordWednesday! 

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Credit: Jennifer Pallian

——–

Everything had to be perfect. Kayla didn’t want this to be a one time affair. It was 1:00 p.m., and Tye had awoken hearing noises in Kayla’s kitchen. 

He lumbered in, taking a seat at the island where Kayla had prepared a tray with ‘hair of the dog.’

“Morning Tye, you probably have a killer hang over at your age,” Kayla teased.

Tye drank both drinks from the tray. “Feeling much better now. Where’s your brother? Did he crash here too?”

“We, no Tye, it was just us. Christian stayed at Mimi’s last night.”

“He’s a lucky guy. Mimi’s a fine woman.”

Kayla frowned, “What about last night? Aren’t you a ‘lucky guy’ too, Tye?”

“What about it?”

“Does it mean anything to you? You told me you loved me.”

Tye was silent, “From the moment I saw you in that short black dress . . . I don’t remember much. I drank a lot. It can’t mean anything, Kayla, even if I’ve always had a thing for you. You’re Christian’s sister, he’d kill me.”

“Not if you actually loved me. If you felt the way I feel about you.”

“Doesn’t matter –”

“It does matter because I’m twenty eight-years old, a grown woman. If last night meant nothing, just say it. Because I’m damn sure you’re lying when you say you don’t remember.”

Tye rubbed his face his eyes dazed. He lumbered back to the bedroom and began dressing.

He wouldn’t look at her and Kayla confronted him, catching him off guard. She pushed him hard and kept pushing, attempting to get a reaction from Tye when he grabbed both her hands holding her still. 

“I’ve loved you since I was fourteen. You may have not loved me then, but I’ve seen the way you’ve looked at me since I turned twenty-five. You like me a lot and you know it,” Kayla cried. 

She struggled, but Kye wouldn’t let go of her hands. He pressed his lips to hers, brushing them back and forth before pulling back. “This can’t happen again, Kayla. You know that, I’m engaged.” 

” Lisa doesn’t love you. You don’t owe that harpy anything.”

“I do owe it to her, we’ve been together five years.”

Tyler brushed his thumb against her lips and let go of Kayla. He left her bedroom to put on his dress shoes at the front door. “I wish I could be with you. But Lisa’s pregnant. If I don’t marry her she’ll never let me see my daughter, ever.” 

Kayla blanched. She tried not to burst into a crying jag as she held her throat feeling her breath constrict. She gazed at Tye, “Please tell me I wasn’t just some girl you slept with.” 

“I wasn’t that drunk, Kayla. I lied. Last night meant the world, but that’s why we have to both forget it.”

The door shutting echoed long after Tye left. Tears dripped down her cheeks as Kayla sat on the floor, a ferocious pain eating her alive inside as she wept. 

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Basic Trimeter, dVerse, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer, Health, My Thoughts, Nature, Poetry, Relationship, Travel, Writing, Writing Challenges

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Poem – Trimeter – “Beach Life” #amwriting #flashfiction #poetry #dVerse 


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW. Also thanks to Frank Hubeny of Poet’s Pub #dVerse prompt doing a poem in trimeter. 

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Credit: TJ Paris

——–

Out on Kayaks arrived on beach, 

Where topaz sea foam ocean waves crashed.

Topaz turns Santorini blue soft

Calm waves shallow bring us, into shore. 

Shedding life jackets and wetsuits left, 

Zippers released quick; swimsuits worn, 

Nothing but comfort for us here now. 

We lie on white sands relaxed our — 

Bodies tired, cleansing breath respired.

After hours paddling through far out —

Seas where the ocean waves fought us hard.

Tangling our fingers we absorb sun-

Light; we dry out and sleep, towels, 

Our beds as we’re dead still, post kayake —

Slumber, sunglasses cover poppy —

Eyes in drugged sleep; we’re contented souls, 

The soothing lull of tide rhythm of —

Our beach life desired most until, 

We’re forced to return to our home. 

To the city, our condo precious

Tranquil and never unloved but; 

For moments we lay here at peace our, 

Lives restored by kayaking and such, 

Lazy naps in ocean sands adored. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Current Events, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Photography/Visual Art, Three Line Tales, Writing, Writing Challenges

Three Line Tales: Friday Night Lights #amwriting #fiction #3LineTales


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

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Credit: Arnaud Mesureur

—-

Far off in the distance we gaze at the fluorescent lights glowing, electric candles vibrant and magnificent as we sit on our roof, watching the players tackle each other on the mega screen. The announcer’s voice booms and the sky lights up even more with the pop and scattered explosion of our team’s colors in fireworks; they’ve scored another touch down so we toast to their success. 

When the game is won the fluorescent lights remain luminiscient in the darkness and accompanied by the brilliance of the stars; sometimes we wish we had tickets to that game now hours ago, but our view from the roof of our house is priceless — it also doesn’t cost $20.00 a beer, not even $20.00 a case. 

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.