Sunday Photo Fiction: An Adventure Alone #amwriting #flashfiction 


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

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Credit: Sascha Darlington

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Six-year-old James was excited. He was at a giant amusement park with a fascinating complex modular domes. He tried to rush past his parents but his Dad grasped James’ hand firmly. 

They entered the first dome and there was a huge race track inside. James squeeled while driving with his Dad in a go-kart. The next dome had a mini-golf course. Half-way through the course James decided he was bored and that it was time for his adventure alone; he crept off when his Dad was putting. 

He spent his day playing in a giant indoor playground and then went outside to where there were rides for kids to go on. He made friends with another boy named Paul whose parents thought James had permission to ride rides with them. 

After a while James felt sick because he hadn’t eaten. He returned to the mini-golf course to wait for his Dad. He sat there for hours but he never saw his parents. He thought they had decided they didn’t want him.

 Then he heard his Mom’s angry voice: “James William, where have you been?” He hugged his Mom and cried into his Dad’s shoulder when he picked James up. It appeared his adventure alone was more than James had bargained for. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Sunday Photo Fiction: The End of The CorkScrew #flashfiction #amwriting #fiction 


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF. 

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Credit: © J. Hardy Carroll
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Kathy walked into The CorkScrew. During the day it had masqueraded as a cafe with coffee, tea, hot chocolate, soft drinks, and any alcohol you felt like adding. At night the old place truly came alive as the beloved town bar where everyone met to have fun and catch up. 

However, the building no longer met fire code regulations. It hadn’t when she started working here as a bartender when she was sixteen, having procured a fake ID. But twenty-five years later the place was so terrible it had to be torn down; even renovations couldn’t save The CorkScrew. 

At the front of the bar were bottles from years gone by. For some reason one could still get an ancient bottle of 7Up to mix with lime juice and Vodka. There was original Coca Cola and original Pepsi, whatever you preferred to have with your Rye or Rum. 

Kathy along with neighbors, patrons, and friends — some she’d known all her life — had come to the bar one last time to watch as The CorkScrew was boarded-up. Oddly enough, even the rats seemed to be leaving the building, which only made Kathy cry harder. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Sunday Photo Fiction: To Be Free #amwriting #flashfiction #fiction


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

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Credit: C.E. Ayer

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Lush trees surround me, green and verdant, as I walk out to the lake for a swim. I’ve been doing this for years now, swimming up to the buoys and back, twenty laps every morning. 

When I’m on my last lap I notice the usual small boat not far from the buoy and behind it a rowboat. The larger boat appears deserted and I feel my self begin to sweat despite the warm water. 

I decide to swim closer to the large boat but then the shock of a sudden explosion on the sinking ship has me diving underwater, swimming quickly to avoid the debree. Coming up onto the water’s surface only a tip of the vessel shows as its final resting place becomes the bottom of the lake. 

The following morning I come to swim and there are police and rescue volunteers sweeping the water. This ship was a home for a grizzled man and his wife Stephanie. Somehow she survived the ship’s explosion untouched while her husband died. 

Stephanie meets me later at home. I’ve been looking after her for years, protecting her from an abusive husband. We smile and she kisses my lips, “Jack, I can’t believe it worked; I’m free.” 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Sunday Photo Fiction: Lost Dreams


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.


spf-county-hotel
Credit: A Mixed Bag

Fifteen-years ago Chloe had visited the County Hotel for the first time in Aisling.

As a young woman, she loved how most of the boutiques and fine dining in the city were here. She adored the opulent movie theater and grand Opera House nearby. The area bustled with tourists and business people alike.

But Chloe’s favorite neighborhood Le Solas Na Greine, had aged. She decided this would be her last stay at the County Hotel. She noticed how much the decor of the hotel was worn. Even the blankets and sheets were threadbare and Chloe was afraid to go outside, except to catch a cab.

Now she visited a new hub of the city, the neighborhood of Lasaim. Yet, she was still upset such a lively and vibrant neighborhood as Le Solas Na Greine, was now the poorest and most frightening place in the city to be. It tainted her fondest memories of vacationing here.

She hoped in the future a new generation of politicians and citizens would revive her neighborhood. After all, didn’t the name of the city Aisling mean dream?


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction: An Evil Chalice #amwriting #fiction #flashfiction 


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

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A Mixed Bag

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Timo and Erica had been stranded in the desert when their small plane crashed near Cairo. Sunburnt, exhausted, and thirsty, they were shocked to see an Oasis. 

“An Oasis Timo, we’re saved. There’s water and even a chalice to drink from,” Erica yelled. 

“You’re seeing things Erica, there’s no water and no chalice.” 

Really look, it’s only a few steps away — we’re here,” Erica said rushing forward to drink from a beautiful pale blue spring; however, whenever she tried to cup the spring water with her hands, it slide away. 

“It won’t let me drink and I’m half-dead,” she cried. 

Timo rubbed his eyes, finally believing the blue spring underneath a palm tree existed. A chalice made with a human skull sat in the middle of a stone alter as well. It gave him a feeling of dread. 

“Erica, to drink the water you need the chalice but don’t do it. There’s something terrifying and evil about this cup.” 

She turned to Timo, giving him a dark stare, “I’ll drink from the chalice if I want.” Erica strode to the alter, bowed mockingly and lifted the chalice to kiss the skull on the mouth.

Timo grimaced as she scooped it into the water and drank. It was an Indiana Jones’ movie come to life as Erica’s life force was sucked from her body which disintegrated until she was dust. 

He decide to try drinking from the spring without the chalice. Timo drank all the water he could then sat down beneath the large palm tree in the shade. He wondered why cupping his hands worked for him and not for poor Erica as he drifted asleep.

When he awoke, Timo heard the blessed noise of rescuers in the distance and hollered for help. To his amazement the Oasis had disappeared along with the chalice. 

He contemplated what he should say happened to Erica as no one would believe the truth. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Sunday Photo Fiction: The Sacrifice #amwriting #flashfiction #fiction 


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF. 

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Credit: A Mixed Bag

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Ellie stared at her teddy bears. She collected them and these three were her favourite. She didn’t much play with them, but they had a place of pride on her daybed. 
Truthfully, Ellie played with other stuffed animals, she didn’t care if she wrecked or ripped them a part. Sometimes she even gave a stuffed animal to her family’s dog dog Artic.

But Mom said she had too many teddy bears and because she didn’t play with these three teddy bears on her bed, she could only keep one of them. 

“But I snuggle with them at night, they keep me safe from the monsters. Even a monster can’t defend himself against three bears, ” Ellie told her Mom who laughed and ran her fingers through Ellie’s curly brown hair.

 Ellie stared at her three soft bears, unable to choose who would go. 

Suddenly, the solution came upon her. If Ellie couldn’t have all three bears, the only solution was to get rid of her Mom. She really loved her Mom a whole bunch, but she thought if she sacrificed Mom to the monsters, she would both be able to keep all three teddy bears and the monsters would leave forever too. 

It was a scary thing to give up her mother, but Ellie thought it was for the best. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Sunday Photo Fiction: Poetry – Octain Refrain – “Three Lights” #amwritng #poetry #flashfiction 


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF. 

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Credit: A Mixed Bag

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Three lights in the darkness, pitch black all ’round. 

A night deep, the black ink deftly hiding, 

Criminals, the lost, truly evil find. 

Misdeeds better performed where every sound —

Is a nightmare calling, no justice found. 

Unrevealed secrets proffered, ungrounded, 

Realization of innocents expounding

Out here ‘neath stars, curse of night, hurt resides. 

Three light in the darkness, pitch black all ’round. 

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Three lights in the darkness, pitch black ’round, 

Presence of luminescence, rats scatter . 

Lights are strong, don’t flicker, they matter. 

Bring attention to the wounded, those drowned

All their sorrows piling-up —burdens

Shine your light thrice, save them for certain. 

Demonstrate there’s another way clattering

Sing songs of broken hearts; at last they’re found. 

Three lights in the darkness, pitch black all ’round.

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Three lights in the darkness, pitch black all ’round.

Though we may fear darkness, here there’s no need, 

As long as there’s light radiant, just heed. 

Never let your fears overcome, light resounds, 

Washes out creepersshadows; it centres.  

Gives hope for tomorrow, transformed life mends

Malevolence abounds, stay grounded

Light always wins —brilliance all precedes. 

Three lights in the darkness, pitch black all ’round. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.


Sunday Photo Fiction: Poem – Italian Sonnet “The Holiday Spirit” #amwriting #poetry #flashfiction 


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF. 

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Credit: A Mixed Bag

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(Written Christmas Day)

Though times they change and we move on in life, 

We cannot say at Christmas, we’re not blessed

Food to eat, fine company, we confess —

To much chocolate, many sweets, little strife; 

Compared to the state of many a place ripe, 

With destruction, death, such hate which festers

To much is wrong, but be at peace nonetheless. 

His time draws near, have cheer; lasting hurt wiped. 

Peace on earth, goodwill to all mankind, let’s —

Be kind to our neighbours and remember to share, 

Life is tough, let no one be in despair

Let us share the good news, for He is born set —

Healing broken hearts and pains of the past bled, 

Great physician who taught, love each other, care

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction: A Round Belly #flashfiction #amwriting #fiction


Thank you to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF. 

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A Mixed Bag

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“What’s that?” five-year-old Julia asked. 

“It’s a Buddha, dear,” Aunt Kim replied. 

“What’s a Buddha?” 

“For some people, Buddha is their god.” 

“Oh,” Julia asked perturbed. “But I thought he had a belly, a big one.” 

“Certain statues of Buddha have a belly,” Aunt Kim remarked. 

“But why?” Julia asked, “What does Buddha want?” 

“I think he wants enlightenment dear. I’m not sure why he’s portrayed as having a round belly only sometimes.” 

” He must eat a lot. My friend says he does yoga? I think a downward dog would be too hard for him. His stomach would get in the way,” Julia said thoughtfully, 

“I’m sure he manages, Julia.” Aunt Kim said chuckling. 

“What’s enlightenment?” 

Kim sighed, “Understanding and awareness. A lot to do with meditation, sitting still, thinking, and breathing in and out.” 

“Oh, but who put Buddha in your house?” 

“I’m not sure dear. Everyday I wake up and Buddha is on the shelves near the back door outside. I think the neighbour lady keeps putting him there for me. And each day I keep returning him,” Aunt Kim said agitated. 

” Tell the neighbour lady, we’ll keep Buddha if he has a round belly,” Julia replied with a giggle and grin. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Sunday Photo Fiction: Nickel Dust #amwriting #flashfiction #fiction 


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

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Credit: A Mixed Bag

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Tess held the torch in her dexterous hands, melting white-gold until it was workable. She shaped it until she formed a cuff for a woman’s wrist. Before the gold cooled, Tess placed in the center of the bracelet a pink diamond. Circling the pink diamond were tiny white diamonds. 

 Her buyer named Adrianne, had been specific about the quality and karat of raw materials used. She had been malicious to Tess as well, bruising her arm with a forceful grasp and spitting in Tessa’s face saying: 

“This bracelet must be your most perfect design yet or else. I’m not paying you so much money for nothing.” 

Fortunately, Tess knew Adrianne had a horrible allergy to nickel. Tess had procured the finest dust of nickel. When she packed up Adrienne’s bracelet she threw in silver and black glitter in the cuff’s box for decoration; the nickel dust hid well in the glitter. 

“You’ve out done yourself,” Adrianne admitted giving Tess a surprised glance. She paid Tess for the remainder of the bracelet and walked out the shop door scowling at Tess on the way out. 

She noticed Adrianne scratching her wrist and arm where she’d tried on the bracelet; Tess smiled. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.