Fiction, Friday Fictioneer, My Thoughts, Nature, Novel - First Draft -"How Was Last Night For You.", Relationship, Writing, Writing Challenges

Friday Fictioneer: Reliable Intelligence #amwriting #flashfiction 


Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting FF.

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Credit: Shaktiki Sharma

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“Harold, where have you been disappearing at night? Don’t you love me?” his fiancée June asked.

“I’ll tell you what I can but we need to go somewhere safe. My men will sweep our hotel for bugs first.”

She nodded confused. Later, June turned towards Harold in their room, “Well?”

“I work with the CIA and you can never tell anyone for both our sakes.”

She nodded, “This isn’t what I expected at all but I won’t say a word. I’m glad we have each other.” Her words trailed off, Harold kissed her.

Outside their open window, a yellow locust (Tick) clicked. He was a scientific phenomenon whose clicking spread a morse code message to the enemy in the Kremlin.

But Harold was sharp. He’d seen the mysterious yellow locusts while walking into the hotel with June. The garden was fumigated that night.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneer, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Nature, Nonfiction, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Friday Fictioneer: Lying In The Grass #amwriting #nonfiction #flashfiction #fiction #philosophy 


Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting FF.

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Credit: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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I’m lying in the summer grass. Above me the sky appears as if the heavens are opening. Perhaps brilliant marshmallow clouds behold some greater being, a creator with vision and design? There has to be more to humanity than our randomness in the world. I think that we all have a place, a reason, a purpose. We aren’t accidental and are made specifically to be ‘us.’

It’s a relief the hot sun is blocked by the clouds but I can see the light peeking through as if the sky has provided me an inkling of celestial luminescence. But maybe the sky is only the sky and I’m personifying my beliefs and feelings? But then, maybe faith and the existence of God is demonstrated most superbly by the the earth, nature, and tiny glimpses of gloriousness seen lying in the grass.

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Fiction, Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneer, My Thoughts, Nature, Writing, Writing Challenges

Friday Fictioneer: The Winter the Snow Never Stopped #amwriting #flashfiction #snow


Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting FF.

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Credit: Sarah Potter

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The snow began yesterday and hadn’t stopped. By 5:00 pm it was night and the snow continued. Sara peered outside and could see the fat flakes steadily falling. They accumulated into two-foot piles and the city was forced to run the snow plows to clear the roads. 

It snowed for six months starting in December without stopping but remained eerily calm outside and around -12 degrees Celsius. It was difficult for Sara to even buy groceries. The walls of thick snow made her claustrophobic. 

 At the end of May, Sara crept outside and heard the first trickle of the water. The snow had begun to melt. Now, the river was rising and flooding was a concern. 

There was no winning with Mother Nature. 

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneer, My Thoughts, Nature, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

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

——

“Boulevard of Broken Dreams” By Green Day

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, Friday Fictioneer, My Thoughts, Nature

Friday Fictioneer: The Mystery of the Chair in The Middle of The Lake #amwriting #flashfiction 


Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting FF.

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Credit: Ted Strutz

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“Hey Liz, what’s your kitchen chair doing out in the middle of the lake?” Barb asked.

Liz was perplexed, “My first thought was that my boys had done this, thinking it would be funny. But this is just the type of thing their Dad would think was hilarious too.”

“Maybe Mark did it?” 

“No he was out like a light at 10:00 pm. The boys were genuinely surprised about the chair and ran to the window to see it. I actually believe they didn’t do it,” Liz said. 

—–

The next day the snow was blizzarding, the temperatures so frigid the lake froze thickly. When warmer weather returned Liz saw her Dad outside fishing through a hole in the ice. 

She smiled walking out to the ice where her Dad sat:”Dad, did you move this chair outside for fishing?” 

Liz’s Dad laughed,” I did not. But it was just sitting here so I figured why not use it?” 

The mystery of the chair in the middle of the lake continues. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneer, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Nature, Nonfiction, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Friday Fictioneer Flash Fiction: As Orchids #flashfiction #amwriting #nonfiction 


Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff Fields for hosting FF.

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Credit: Roger Bultot

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I love orchids, especially purple ones. For me, orchids stand for resiliency and strength. One reason for this is that orchids need little care. A cupful of water every few days, leave them in the sun by a window, and they will continue to bloom and put out new shoots. Kindly, remember not to water them more, it’s how they die and orchids are notoriously difficult to kill. 

Season after season orchids put out shoots which turn into buds and burst out as soft petaled flowers. I think as orchids, humans are built to last. Though we are all moving towards our eventual death, on the way we are continuely putting out shoots and if we’re careful, growing beautiful flowers in the lives of those we touch. We are people who can grow even in harsh conditions. It doesn’t take much to fuel us, to keep us going, demonstrating our kindness to others. 
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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneer, History, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Ottava Rima - abababcc, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Rondeau - aaabba, aabR, aabbaR, Writing, Writing Challenges

Friday Fictioneer: Poem – Ottava Rima –  ” Beach Drive” #amwriting #poetry #flashfiction #1920’s


Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff – Fields for hosting FF. 

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Credit: A Mixed Bag – Alistair Forbes

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Can you put my pieces back together?

Make me whole again? I long for —

Air rushing against chrome, driver moving —

As fast as full throttle can go more

Fill me with people; fix my engine too. 

Put some diesel in the tank go for —

A day trip with your hands on the wheel,

Switching gears, we drive until I’m healed.

—–

Let’s go for a drive, to the seaside,

Find some entertainment on sandy beaches. 

Let the girls wear their Jantzen suits glide,

Into lake shallows, splash each other, each

Laughing, cloche hats tight; stockings gone beachside,

Honk my horn –it’s time to go; don’t screech —

My tires, they’re full of air, we’re driving fast,

Back in the days, driving was a pastime

—-

*Jantzen – swim suits more like swim dresses from the 1920’s made out of a stretchy thick jersey, not wool as many previous swim suits were made from.  Jantzen jersey swim dresses were stretcher than regular jersey material. 

*Cloche hats – swim caps with a strap under the chin to hold them on a woman’s head and worn in the 1920’s. 

See Sun, Fun, and 1920’s from the blog Vintage Dancer. 

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© Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Children/YA/Family, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneer, History, My Thoughts, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Friday Fictioneer: Where The Arched Doorways Lead #amwriting #flashfiction #fiction 


Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting FF.

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Credit: Dale Rogerson

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The [girl] who comes back through the Door in the Wall will never be quite the same as the [girl] who went out. [She] will be wiser but less sure, happier but less self-satisfied, humbler in acknowledging [her] ignorance yet better equipped to understand the relationship of words to things, of systematic reasoning to the unfathomable mystery which it tries, forever vainly, to comprehend” 

― Aldous Huxley, The Doors of Perception

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“Where do those doors lead, the arches are beautiful. Is there groin-vaulting in between each arched doorway?” 

The tour guide stared at sixteen-year-old Tina who was a surprise student of art history. “If you wish to discover the architectural features of the building, you must find them exploring, it’s how things are done here,” he said. 

Tina watched as other students from her high school trip went exploring in pairs, while she ‘the know it all,’ was left on her own. 

She walked through the first arched doorway and turned to see the tour guide watching her enter, “What is the purpose of these long hallways of arches. Do they end?” 

The tour guide sighed, “Go see for yourself. Sometimes experience is the best kind of knowledge.” 

Tina began following a series of arched doorways. She was filled with both trepidation and a strong urge to succeed, finding the exit. 

At times she had to choose a direction to travel when four different archways presented themselves. She kept walking until she was frustrated, bored, and tired. Then Tina lay down, resting her head on her jacket to sleep. 

In the morning she was relieved to find the exit. Last night she had thought she would never find a way out of this maze. She felt like a changed person today. 

——
©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Fiction, Free Verse, Friday Fictioneer, Inverted Refrain - abab (ba) or (ab) - 8 syllable - indent last two lines., Music and Performers, My Thoughts, Nature, Nonfiction, Poetry, Writing, Writing Challenges

Friday Fictioneer: Poem – Free Verse – “Echo Beyond”


Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting FF.


ff-train-to-no-where
Credit: C.E. Ayr

Parts of city, no one admits are here,

Only smashed cars, railroad tracks live dying.

Find a fleck of hope here;

There’s not but skeletons, twisted years lost.

*****

We stare into the crisscrossing of tracks,

Wonder how all the trains never seem lost.

For accidents, no care.

Here is our place, where no one dare go.

****

I will always hope,

Wishing there’s more left,

Then empty spaces littered.

I’ll find strength where it hurts,

Will I change our lot?

Someday our names will echo beyond.

*****

I’m tired of staying in this mishmash space,

There’s more to life than choking on coal dust.

My love, we’ll find our place.

We’re wolves, eyes gleaming, searching for home.

*****

Bitterness leaves me caught in this valley,

Is still and hot; we’ll move, find our names.

Wolves as you and I,

Our might is large; ignored, we’re crafty.

*****

I will always hope,

Wishing there’s more left,

Then empty spaces littered.

I’ll find strength where it hurts,

Will I change our lot?

Someday our names will echo beyond.

*****


“The Cave” – Mumford & Sons


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Fiction, Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneer, History, My Thoughts, Writing, Writing Challenges

Friday Fictioneer: When The Wheel Stops Turning


Thanks to Rochelle Wiseoff-Fields for hosting FF.


ff-cogs-and-wheels
Credit: Sandra Crook

Bruno’s days were spent turning the wheel, bored and physically exhausted. At night he returned to his hovel, barely awake enough to eat thin gruel. In the day there was mead to ensure the serfs didn’t rebel.

But the mead wasn’t helping today. Bruno glared at the the serf master, upset he didn’t even know what or why this wheel turned.

One day when the serf master tried to whip them, Bruno reached out and caught the whip grabbing it and knocking the serf master out. He ran as far away as he could run.

Bruno heard in the east, a landowner was giving out pieces of property in return for part of the proceeds; he thought this would be a much better living — at least, he hoped.


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.