Collage Prompt: Poem – Quadrille – “Earnest but Deadly” #amwriting #poetry #MLMM


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting the Sunday Writing Collage Prompt.


Credit: MindLovesMisery’s Menagerie


Strange beauty,

Admired, rejected;

Reflected, introspective —

Burning out of control.

Lovely, sweet,

But if you touched,

Her hand —

You erupted in fire;

Flames her tears,

Couldn’t douse.

She’s earnest,

Desiring closeness.

A friend, a lover;

But some of us,

Are cursed.

To yearn forever,

And hurt those —

We wish to love.


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved

Music Challenge/ Photo Challenge: Poem – Free Verse – “Way Down Below” #amwriting #poetry #musicchallenge #photochallenge


Music Challenge #18 by MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie is “Way Down We Go” by Kaleo and Im combining with Photo Challenge by NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie .


Credit: Charlotte Gonzalos


“Way Down We Go” by Kaleo


Way down we go,

Can’t lift us up oh, oh.

Way down below, beneath the blows,

We’ll hide our woes and find our souls.

But we may sink in mire as we expire,

As way down we go,

Trying to find life’s flow;

So, love me slow or love me not.

Don’t run me down, down with wild blows.

Way down we go,

‘Cause say we, way down we fall, oh, oh.

Way down together,

Far down below and I respire;

Our breath so close, that lips conspire.

To go down further, disperse our woes,

In life we try to avoid what hurts most.

Tell me, do we get what we deserve?

It’s better when I’ve got your back,

When your behind mine, and you hold me close.

Swaying back and forth,

In rhythm, and life,

‘Cause way down we fall,

Way down we go, oh, oh.

Here we go to the journey home,

Though down is such a far way to go —

We’re not afraid.

There’s nothing gloomy,

When your hand’s in mine,

Electric currents wired;

We hold are flow, the energy grows.

Are hearts on fire, we won’t let go;

No matter that, way down we go, oh, oh.

We won’t let our held hands go,

Your grip is tight and your eyes they glow.

Your lips they lift and your pulse beats mad,

Nothing this good could be called so bad.

It’s tough, sometimes when you explode,

When the down it holds,

When I let go and hide;

But new days keep dawning with azure Skies,

No matter that, way down we go —

We rise to conquer towards the surface,

Way down we go, heads held high,

And I promise you’re the one,

I’ll go to the ends of he works for —

So, way down we go, together into forever.

Digging ourselves out of holes,

Patching our broken souls.

Life’s not permanent so while I have you, we go, and go,

Way down so slow, oh, oh.

To grasp each moment, string it out–

To hold such love and not implode.

Way down we go —

No longer running each other down.

Resting in the hollows, the caves, and valleys,

Exploring the roots and tearing out the weeds.

Let’s say we, go way down, to the garden of glee,

And those happy places we render, and feel free —

When life is way down,

We never let go;

Despite falling down, we go, oh, oh.

Never afraid when we go together, rising through it.

Way down we go oh, oh.

But how wonderful it is to be struggling as one,

Down low, or dreaming of sumptuous flight,

Freedom more than we deserve.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Three Line Tales/Saturday Mix: The Decayed Farm House #amwriting #3LineTales #SaturdayMix #flashfiction


Thanks to Sonya from Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales. Also thank you to Sarah from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Saturday Mix. This week her Double Take homophones are: band – a musical group and bannedforbidden; cent – one hundredth of a dollar, scent – an aroma, and sent – dispatched.


Credit: Thomas Shellberg via Unsplash


A person can catch the voices of yesterday in the stars where the decayed farm house sags, where a band sings, playing the fiddle, and the scent of bread lingers with rotting wood; King George pennies are scattered on the floor, one cent coins forgotten with a monarch dead, no longer minted with the current Queen, Elizabeth II.

The prairie nights of old linger here, where joy and sorrow blend with relief, moving from a run-down house banned, deemed unsafe by housing inspection; a gleaming modern farmhouse replaces it nearby, but the old one is left to rot with a sense of nostalgia from the farmer’s elderly father.

A person can picture the dances and parties, dead relatives and friends sitting around the table, the young boys sent out to chase the horses who’d escaped the field, into the neighbors pastures; the past clings to this house as it does to the stars above, both from a time long forgotten.


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer/Music Challenge: An Ordinary Girl #amwriting #flashfiction #musicchallenge


Last week’s FFftAW is hosted by Priceless Joy. Also, this is not the recent music challenge but the previous one, Music Challenge #19, with the song “Ordinary World” by Green Day Featuring Miranda Lambert.


Credit: Fandago


Ordinary World” by Green Day Ft. Miranda Lambert


Gemma was furious, she strode to the back yard, grabbing her keys from her purse, sputtering off in her old Toyota. She heard her parents both yelling as she squealed away. She exited onto a highway, then into New York, the city of shining lights.

At sixteen she desired her own apartment downtown, near the train and whichever university fit her design passion. A place where her mom didn’t search through her stuff. She had collected a great deal of buried treasure for her future apartment. Gemma was extraordinarily intelligent and had the marks to attend any university, with a full scholarship, even at age sixteen.

The sunrise blinded her as she drove past the downtown core. At dawn, she got out at her favorite park with the tree with twisted roots. Here she had met Ethan. Together they existed in an Ordinary World of small dreams and endless moments. He supported her but convinced her time and again to return home only for another two years.

When she came home after her advanced high school classes, she was besieged by her mom and dad. She gazed apologetically at their worried faces, trying to find the right words. She knew they had big plans for her. They didn’t want her to be ordinary like them, but it was what she wanted most.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#NovemberNotes Day 29/ Saturday Mix: Poem: Free Verse – “Myself Alone” #amwriting #poetry #saturdaymix


For November Notes Day 29 the song Prompt is “Just Hold Me” by Maria Mena. I’m combining the prompt with a second prompt by Sarah from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie and her Saturday Mix Prompt, Same but Different. We’re using a list of words to inspire is but not using the words in our writing themselves. The words are: party, new, goodbye, resolution, and hope.


Credit: Ian Schneider via Unsplash


” Just Hold Me” By Maria Mena


Why won’t you hold me?

How come it’s so hard?

Let me lie back against you,

I need to here your heart beat.

I need the solid reassurance,

Of each steady breath you take.

Life hasn’t been a celebration of late,

Your forlorn coldness has me breaking.

Your eyes once toffee-soft have gone to stone;

And there’s nothing novel, your affection, your kisses, are merely habit — without meaning.

Rejection and loneliness surround me, there’s no comfortable silence between us.

It’s as if we’re both alone in the same room and —

The coldness of the year’s fresh beginning —

Has made your heart bitter ice.

Why won’t you hold me?

How come it’s so hard?

You know me so well, but somehow not at all.

I tried to hold on, keep praying, to have faith;

But our love is too broken and there’s no going back.

So I slip out the door, I’ve packed everything I own,

You won’t even notice, how empty your home has become.

I set aflame our cherished photographs,

I’ve taken your expensive Scotch;

Hidden your aged red wines in my suitcase,

Stripped the house of life;

Undressed it of every comfort that existed, being us.

I’m going to be brave and I’m going to start again —

I don’t need you to hold me,

Because holding me was a privilege, one you took for granted.

Enjoy your house devoid of us — of lost love and comfort,

For I no longer care about you,

Your icy heart has ensured I’ve learned —

To hold on to myself alone — and hard.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#NovemberNotes Day 28/Saturday Mix: ‘Manon’ #fiction #saturdaymix #amwriting


For November Notes Day 28, the song Prompt is “Into the Night” by Beacon. I’m using the the same song title, but by Santana and Chad Krueger, different musicians.


Credit: Patrick Kool


“Into the Night” by Santana and Chad Krueger


The pub was overheated and dim but Sam’s blood felt alive with promise as he sipped his third Corona at the bar. A slim woman wearing red silk floated onto the dance floor and he was struck still. The dancer was gorgeous. A gift from the Heavens.

Sam’s dark eyes held the beautiful dancers blue-green ones and he instantly knew how she felt about him from the widening of her eyes, the simmering gaze held between them. Even as she positioned herself to dance, the woman glanced at him. Then, closing her eyes she whirled, her footwork effortless, and her dancing lively, a dervish to a fast-paced song.

When Sam wasn’t looking, she grabbed his hand insisting he dance with her, entrancing him as she brushed against him with each complicated step. It was three songs before he realized every soul in the room had been keeping time with them, clapping their hands. Sam wasn’t a talented dancer by any means, but the woman in his arms, made his stumbling appear sensuous.

Her long golden hair flew about them unbound as they spun around in circles, the moon gleaming down from windows near the dance floor. Sam spun the woman one last time, lifting her body against him, before the tenth song ended.

“What’s your name?”

“Manon.”

“I’ve never meant a woman as beautiful as you dancing, Manon.”

“Thank you, but I think that’s an overused pick-up line on me, ” she laughed winking at him. “What’s your name?”

“My friends call me Sam.”

Manon smiled. “I’m glad to be your friend, Sam.”

They continued dancing at a slower pace, finally, noticing the couples and groups of friends on the dance floor beside them.

She snuggled her head into the crook of his neck. “It’s easy to lose track of time, dancing through the night, singing along with you to the music.”

Sam grinned, “I don’t sing much, but I know the words to the songs.”

Manon brushed her hair back from her smooth face perspiring. After a couple of more songs, she stopped dancing for a a few minutes. Sam left, retrieving some vodka-water limes for them both.

Manon took an indulgent sip and grinned. “You say you know the right words to these songs, but do you know the right words to ask me, next?”

She put down her empty drink and looped her arms around Sam’s neck. They swayed slowly, no room between their bodies but her silk dress and his button down.

Sam inhaled Manon’s jasmine perfume. “I know what I’d like to ask you, Manon. What I’d ask any beautiful woman in my arms, but you’re not just any beautiful woman.”

“You’re saying the right words so far.”

He laughed, “What I was thinking was that maybe I could take you for an early breakfast and we could talk. Then, I could drive you home and you could give me your phone number. After, we could go on date number two in a day or so.”

” I’d love that, Sam. I’m a little surprised you didn’t ask to take me home and stay.”

“Would you have said, yes?”

Manon blushed, ” I’ll never tell,” but Sam knew the truth.

“I want to get to know you, Manon, and this kind of knowing takes more than one night; it’s old-fashioned, I guess.”

Manon’s smile was radiant. “Old-fashioned is new for me. Few men have ever wanted to actually know me or have taken the time before we even, you know.”

Sam chuckled and kissed her knuckles. “Old-fashioned is new for me too and it was there loss, just so you know.

Manon slipped her arm through Sam’s and they strolled off the dance floor laughing about what they both craved for breakfast.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Interview with Sarah Whiley: Writer, Blogger, Teacher, & Future Author #interview #nonfiction #amwriting #nonfiction


Welcome to another writer/blogger interview. Today I’m interviewing the wonderful, talented, and gorgeous Sarah Whiley who I have come to know through the prompt website MindLoveMisery`s Menagerie (MLMM). Sarah`s personal blog is called: By Sarah. You can also look for her to do the Saturday Mix prompt on MLMM. Here`s the link to last week`s prompt: Same Same but Different December 30.


Sarah Whiley Interview Pic 1
Credit: Sarah Whiley

1. Sarah, Please Tell Us About Yourself? What Are Your Writing and Blogging Goals? What Do You Hope to Accomplish by Writing? 


My name is Sarah Whiley and I live in north-east Victoria, in Australia. My blog is: ‘By Sarah. I’m a primary school teacher of 17 years and have taught all ages from 5 to 12 years old. I have always loved writing since I could pick up a pencil and create. I am passionate about instilling this same love of writing in my students.

In order to do that, it is important that I see myself as a writer – as an author in my own right. This is what I am hoping to accomplish by writing and blogging. I am so fortunate to live where I do. They don’t call Australia the “lucky country” for nothing!


2. Tell Us About Where You Live and What You Love About It?


I’m originally a city girl from Canberra, and later, Melbourne. I have enjoyed the spoils of both cities’ such as the cosmopolitan cafes and restaurants, nightlife, and their unique cultures.

When I met my husband and moved to the country! I love the wide- open spaces, the varying landscapes and the bush. I am now an avid bushwalker and spend most weekends out and about, communing with nature.


“I am a primary school teacher of 17 years and have taught all ages from 5 to 12 years old. I have always loved writing since I could pick up a pencil and create. I am passionate about instilling this same love of writing in my students. In order to do that, it is important that I see myself as a writer – as an author in my own right.” – By Sarah Whiley 


Sarah Whiley Pic 2
Sarah Whiley

 


3. When Did You Begin Writing and Blogging and Why? What Does Writing Mean to You? 


My journey with blogging began five years ago, after a series of personal setbacks and issues. I commenced blogging primarily, as a cathartic experience to help me work through my thoughts and feelings. Once I no longer ‘needed’ my blog, I had a small break, however always felt something was ‘missing.’

After attending professional development for helping me teach writing, I realized, the hole that blogging and writing had left in my life!

I started my blog, ‘By Sarah,’ to explore my own creative writing, to explore myself, and my talent for writing. I have, particularly, enjoyed writing short stories and poetry. An unexpected bonus to continued blogging has been the great friendships I’ve gained in the WordPress community; I have established so many along the way.


4. Where Do You Find Your Inspiration and Motivation to Continue Writing and Blogging? Why Is It Vital for you to Keep on Writing? 


I have some seeds of ideas stashed away in my writer’s notebook. I tend to work on these pieces over a long period of time. For other ideas, I rely on a range of prompts. I feel it’s important to write regularly in order to develop my skills and continue to write and maintain it as a habit. Also, I experience a great degree of stress relief from writing.

Moreover, as a teacher, it is easy to get stuck in a cycle of hyper-vigilance and not to give yourself enough ‘down time’. I find a variety of prompts extremely helpful for motivating and inspiring writing for myself and in my teaching.

As well, I have a schedule of sorts and I endeavor to write every day aside from Wednesdays (which is my ‘well-being-do-nothing’ night!


 

Sarah Whiley Group Pic 3
Credit: Sarah Wiley

 


“For other ideas, I rely on a range of prompts. I feel it is important to write regularly in order to develop my skills and continue to write and maintain it as a habit. Also, I experience a great degree of stress relief from writing.” – Sarah Whiley


5. What Are Your Writing and Blogging Habits? Do You Prefer Writing a Certain Time of Day? 


I set aside time each day to write. Usually, I can be found on the couch with a dog or two keeping me company, along with some background noise from the TV (I am one of these people who can’t concentrate when it’s quiet). I enjoy writing poetry most. I have a knack for rhyme and rhythm and find it easy to whip up a poem.

As well, I have been challenging myself to explore other types of writing and short stories to extend my skills. I don’t write in the mornings as I am in a rush for time once I wake up. I rush out the door to teach school, but I write after dinner, sometime between 7:00 p.m. until 10:00 p.m. at night. I find Tuesdays and Thursdays to be my busiest and most productive days.


6. What Are Your Most Current Writing or Blogging Projects? Do You Have Projects Outside of Your Blog Involving Writing? Do You Plan on Publishing Any Writing in the Future? 


Currently, I am undertaking Sammi Cox’s  ‘A Month of Mini Writing Challenges’ and have am the new host for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie’s ‘Saturday Mix’. Outside of my
blog, I keep a writer’s notebook and am busy maintaining a Class Dojo Story (similar to a blog) for my classroom.

I will soon be published as a feature writer in Linda J. Wolff’s upcoming eBook. Linda runs a fantastic Urban Poetry site and I was the winner of her Fibonacci poetry competition earlier this year. At the end of the year, I plan to convert my blog posts for 2017 into a self-published collection for family, friends, and anyone else interested.


Toa Hefitaba Sarah
Credit: Toa Hefitba via UnSplash

“I will soon be published as a feature writer in Linda J. Wolff’s upcoming eBook. Linda runs a fantastic Urban Poetry site and I was the winner of her Fibonacci poetry competition earlier this year. At the end of the year, I plan to convert my blog posts for 2017 into a self-published collection for family, friends, and anyone else interested.” – Sarah Whiley


7. Can you Briefly Describe Your Writing Process? What Do You Think Will Be Your Process of Self-Publishing Your Writing? 


Being a teacher, I find the writing process natural and not something I have to think too hard about. Storytelling and explaining my ideas is something I innately do. Upon analysis of my writing, though, I definitely follow six-traits in my writing process including ideas, organization, voice, word choice, sentence fluency, and conventions.

After I am happy with a final piece, I often bounce it off my husband or my mum, seeking their feedback. They are a tremendous help to me and improve the end result of my stories and poems and their overall flow. When I self-publish at the end of the year, I am investigating the use of the ‘Blook-Up Service.‘ (As Sarah gave me these answers super-quick back at the end of August or September, please ask her about the progress of her book and her published poem!!).


8. Do You Prefer Certain Areas of Writing and Reading Genres? And Do You Have Any Helpful Advice for Other Writers and Bloggers Starting Out? 


Well, I’m definitely drawn to the dark, somewhat macabre styles of writing. My pieces often take a dark turn or have a twist at the end. I am not a fan of science-fiction or fantasy, at all, but I prefer supernatural, horror, thriller, crime, mystery, drama, historical, and biographical works.

My advice for new bloggers is:

  • Write what you know. Capturing a small moment in time can sometimes produce the best piece of writing! Also, go with the flow….literally! Don’t overthink it. Go with your ‘stream-of-consciousness’ and see where it leads.
  • Find like-minded people. Better to have fewer blog followers and likes, and better to have more feedback from those few who ‘get’ you and your writing, those who appreciate your efforts! Quality not quantity as they say.

Sarah Whiley Hiking 4
Credit: Sarah Whiley and Her Beautiful Photography!!

Find like-minded people. Better to have fewer blog followers and likes, and better to have more feedback from those few who ‘get’ you and your writing, those who appreciate your efforts! Quality not quantity as they say.” Sarah Whiley


9. Is There Anything Else You Would Like To Share With Us About Writing Or Yourself? 


My experiences growing up in a large family and my relationships with my siblings have certainly shaped many of my ideas and stories! I am the eldest of six children (No, we are not Catholic!). My mum just wanted another son and kept trying until she got one! It’s ironic how she wanted four boys…she ended up with four girls! Despite the large age gaps between some of us, we are reasonably close and hang out together and, at times, travel together.

Also, I LOVE to travel. Whether it be exploring local gems, interstate expeditions or overseas adventures. I am curious and interested in the world around me. I soak up information and facts like a sponge (you never know when they’ll come in handy for a trivia night!) I enjoy nothing more than experiencing new things. I adore the outdoors and take every chance (money permitting of course!) to jump on a plane and go somewhere different.

As well, I love New Zealand and have holidayed there four times now – with plans to go back! I have also traveled to the US (including Hawaii), England, France, Italy, Switzerland, Spain, and Indonesia. All of these factors have helped develop my writing.


10. Can You Briefly Tell Us About Some of Your Favorite Blogs? What Do You Like Most About Them? 


Gosh, it’s hard to name a few. There are a lot of my WordPress friends whose work I truly respect and enjoy. But, if I have to narrow it down, I would have to say:

  • Jane Dougherty Writes – Jane has a wonderful turn of phrase and is able to use colorful words to create great imagery in her poems and stories.
  • God’s Chair – Jael Sook is an engaging and diverse poet and writer and I thoroughly enjoy her work, anticipating each post she makes.
  • RedStuffDan – Dan is an incredibly artistic photographer. His subjects include Bordeaux vineyards, local village life, architecture, doors, mirrored
    images and digital photography as art.

11. Can You Please Share With Us a Few Links from Your Blogs:

TASI

By Sarah Whiley

*Inspired by “Whiskey In the Jar” Music Prompt

*****

 

Tasi Sarah
Credit: Sarah Whiley

 

*****

My summer holiday in Hobart, Tasmania had not begun quite as I had expected. A thunderstorm, a severely delayed flight, and an inaccessible hostel topped off with some bitterly cold weather that I had most definitely not packed for. Finding myself with a few hours to spare, I decided that a stroll around the CBD to orient myself was in order.

The gathering, dark clouds had other ideas.

I had no sooner ventured out onto the streets when the skies opened and a torrential downpour began. Cursing, I sought cover under the awnings of the few shops that had them.

And that’s when I saw it from across the street. ‘Lark Distillery’.

I have never been a whiskey drinker, but I could not resist the pull of the plume of smoke coming from the chimney, nor the cozy 1800’s building that housed it. I ran across to the front door and pushed it open.

Immediately, a warm, yeasty aroma hit me. Unsurprisingly, I was the only patron. The young man behind the ba took in my sodden, street-urchin appearance, and without a trace of disdain, offered me a tasting.

‘But I don’t really drink whisky,’ I protested. ‘Can I just stay in here until the rain passes?’

‘Sure,’ he replied. ‘But why not have a little taste, just to pass the time?’

He took a glass and bottle from the shelf behind him and sang a few lyrics of the Metallica song, ‘There’s whisky in the jar oh.’ He winked, and with that, I took a seat at the bar.  I felt somewhat lonely amongst the long row of empty bar stools. Clearly, they were used to a greater custom.

‘So what would you like to try?’ he asked.

‘I’m in your hands,’ I admitted. ‘What would you recommend?’

‘Let’s start with the single malt. It’s a classic,’ he advised.

He poured a sample into the glass. The glug-glug and almost syrupy quality of the liquid was mesmerising.

‘This whisky is double distilled in locally crafted copper-pot stills and aged in small, 100 litre oak casks. We store our spirits for 5-8 years in smaller barrels for faster maturation,’ he explained.

I took a sip and promptly spluttered. He laughed.

‘Try throwing it back in one go,’ he suggested.

So I did.

After the initial burning sensation and urge to cough, the most amazingly delicious warmth spread from my belly to my brow.

‘Mmmm,’ I approved. ‘Nice. Smooth.’

‘Well if you like that, you’ll love the cask strength. It’s got the same smoothness but is more full bodied due to a higher percentage of Tasmanian malt. It bursts across the palate with hints of maple syrup and sweet notes of highland peat.’

‘Right,’ I said, not having a clue what that meant. Irrespectively, I nudged my glass forward and said, ‘Hit me.’

And I threw that back too.

This bloke knows what he’s talking about, I thought. It was amazing. My palate was dancing and my whole body was alive. The rain outside had faded away, and I felt all toasty and warm and happy.

‘How much alcohol is in this?’ I demanded.

‘58%’ he replied, with a twinkle in his eye, as if he knew that I was feeling tipsy already. ‘How ’bout we mix it up a little? Wanna try some gin?’

‘Gin?’ I replied with enthusiasm. Now we were speaking my language! ‘Oh yes please! Definitely’.

Again, I pushed my glass forward.

‘Now, here at Lark, we do a gin each season,’ he explained, ‘that way we can capitalise on the unique flavours available at different times of the year. This one is our summer release.’ He poured a more than generous sample.

This time, before I drank, I lifted the glass to my nose. The aromas were incredible. Bold and beautifully sweet, I inhaled a balance of citrus and rosewater with undertones of juniper and coriander. It made me think of the warmth of the summer sun. It was almost as if I could feel it on my skin.

I drank and closed my eyes with satisfaction.

‘That was good.‘ I could hear my voice starting to lilt and slur with the effects of the high alcohol content. I sat with the gin in my hand and sipped from the glass again and again. As if wanting to savour it but devour it at the same time, until every drop was gone. I couldn’t wait to see what was next.

‘This is slainte,’ he declared. ‘This is very, very special. It was developed by one of our owners in response to the strong demand for a unique Australian whisky liqueur. Slainte is the marriage of our single malt whisky and a distilled spirit of herbs and spices. The two are carefully combined to give a complexity of character, spiciness and sweetness, while maintaining the overtones of the whisky.’

I could listen to this guy talk all day! I thought. Such passion for the product.

My head was swirling, and I though I still didn’t fully understand what this whisky was all about, I had decided I liked it. Very much. I slid my glass towards him.

‘Now, Tasi,’ he began, as he pulled out a new bottle from behind the counter, ‘Tasi is something different altogether.’

‘What is it?’ I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

‘Tasi is a unique herbal liqueur derived from a single native Tasmanian berry.’

‘I know about the Tasi berry!’ I interjected, surprisingly myself. ‘It’s actually called a Myrtus berry isn’t it?’

‘Yes, that’s right. It’s unique to Tasmania. So this really is something you can’t find anywhere else,’ he was speaking almost reverently. ‘Pass me your glass.’

Unlike any of the other tastings, he first scooped up some ice cubes and placed then delicately in the bottom of my glass.  Intrigued, I leant forward as he carefully poured. Tasi was a glorious deep yellow in colour and looked like liquid gold, flowing over iridescent rocks.

I will never forget that first mouthful. It was as if the liqueur curled around every inch of my teeth and gums. It stuck to my tongue and was like treacle down my throat. That liquid gold coated every surface it touched within my body and I felt like royalty. I smacked my lips approvingly and even moaned out loud. I appreciated every last golden drop and licked the ice cubes once my glass was drained.

He smiled.

He knew.

It was THAT good.

I bought three bottles and thanked him for his time, his advice and his expertise. The bottles clinked as I pulled the door open and reentered the world outside.

I did not notice if it was still raining.

And I did not care.

****

Sarah 2017©


12. Here Are Some More of Sarah’s Link’s to Explore!

Some of her favorite Short pieces:

Some of Sarah’s Poetry:


Thank you so much to Sarah for filling out the interview questions and providing such honest and thoughtful answers. I’m so sorry it took so long to put the interview together. This last past year has been crazy. Make sure to check out Sarah’s Blog: By Sarah.


I should have another interview out in the next couple of weeks, with no promises. If you would like to be interviewed and are a writer or blogger or if you blog for a cause, please reach out to me through my Contact Page. If you’re a regular, you’ll notice I’m playing around with my blog to update my theme. The Contact Page info also needs to be updated eventually.

Have a fantastic week!


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#NovemberNotes Day 23/ Tale Weavers: Part Two — The End of The Affair #taleweavers #amwriting #fiction


For November Notes Day 23 the song prompt is “Heal Over”by K.T. Tunstall and I’m combining with Michael of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Taleweavers prompt on dust.

Credit: Rhianon Lassila via Unsplash


“Heal Over” by K.T. Tunstall


Read Part One HERE.

Giselle didn’t leave her house until the afternoon. Later, she threw on her down-coat and ran outside into the frigid winter to her midnight Honda. She didn’t want to be alone anymore. Also, she decided she needed to be among people, having a few drinks. She couldn’t let herself regret turning Jimmy away.

Her body began shaking as she sat in the Honda’s drivers seat and wept. She was over Jimmy, she’d been over him for a year. He had the nerve to call me Gigi! He had the nerve to ask for me back because Jasmine didn’t want him! Giselle’s crying ended as the warmth from her heated car soothed her body and made her forget the morning’s events.

As she wiped her cheeks the distinct ringtone “Heal Over,” played on Giselle’s iPhone. Her friend Beth was checking in on her. She didn’t think she could talk to her without crying so she waited until Beth’s ringtone stopped. Then, Giselle texted her:

Jimmy was by, Jasmine divorced him. He said he had no one and that he wanted me back. I told him to get lost. Can we go for a drink?

A couple of minutes later Beth replied:

I’m so glad you told him off. He was never good for you. Meet me at the Tavern Grill in 15 minutes, K?

Giselle had been sitting in the Tavern’s bar for a half of an hour when Beth arrived. She was also finished margarita number two. “Have one of these Beth, they’re are awesome. They make you want to dance, sing, and forget everything.”

Beth snorted. “You never could hold your liquor.”

She shrugged. ” I was fine, then, early this morning Jimmy appeared at my door. I saw it was him knocking and I thought he’d go away. After a half-an-hour he began ringing my doorbell and wouldn’t stop. I had to talk to him, but I didn’t let him in the house.”

Giselle brushed her side-bangs out of her eyes.” I don’t blame Jasmine for divorcing him. I would’ve left the cheating b*stard too — if I had known he was married when we were dating. I don’t know how I could’ve missed it, thinking back; I was so naive.”

Beth laughed, ” It was too hard to tell you that Jimmy was a cheating b*stard a year ago. It seemed that you couldn’t escape the trail of dust and destruction Jimmy left you in; it was a perpetual cycle for you guys. It was a relief when he broke it off with you. And yes, you were naive, but not anymore.”

“It was painful when Jimmy chose Jasmine. I felt so stupid and I didn’t know my heart could hurt like that. It was six-months before I felt normal again.”

Beth sighed, tapping her nude-pink manicured nails. “Breaking up with you was the best thing Jimmy ever did. When you texted me I was afraid you were going to say you two had made up.”

“Never.”

“Awesome, Jimmy’s not a good guy and never will be.”

Giselle nodded but Beth grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “Do not go back to him, Gigi. Don’t take his calls. Avoid him at all costs. Be strong like you were this morning; you owe him nothing.”

“I’m done with Jimmy, Beth. Truly, I mean it.”

She patted Giselle’s hand. “Look lady, sometimes life is hard and it’s gonna take time to forget about the good times with Jimmy. But you’ve been without him a year and you’re gonna be fine. So, in the meantime, let’s order another few margaritas and some appetizers. Let’s celebrate severing your last connection to Jimmy.”

Giselle raised her third margarita. “Cheers, to that. But you don’t have to wipe my tears away, Beth, I’m a big girl.”

“I know you are but I’m your friend. I’m here to remind you, you’re gonna keep healing and soon, Jimmy will be a distant memory.”


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

#NovemberNotes Day 22/ Music Challenge: Poem – Italian Sonnet “Getting Away” #amwriting #poetry #musicchallenge


Today the song for November Notes Day 22 is “Letter Never Sent” by Young Summer. I’m combining the prompt with a second song prompt by Tegan and Sarah called “100X” from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie .


Credit: Brooke Cagle via Unsplash


“Letter Never Sent” by Young Summer


“100x” by Tegan and Sarah


I swear I tried to leave you one-hundred —

Times, but you don’t listen, ignored the dread.

I need out on my own, can’t live in red —

With fear and loss, with a one-day hope led;

Love was gone, we didn’t talk, hearts bled.

I pray someday you’ll see, I’m not the one —

You lost; the one who got away — we’re all done.

Silent you pack your bags, deep words unsaid.

A thousand times a day, I tried to say —

In a different way — but you kept writing,

Wrote a letter never sent promising then,

That I’d be back, but I didn’t return

I rehearsed my words to let you go, then —

You shrieked; the end I knew, would be a fight,


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

PhotoChallenge/ Sunday Writing Prompt: A Fairy Tale with a Bad Ending: Maleficent #amwriting #fiction #photochallenge


Thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s photochallenge. I’m combining prompts with The Sunday Writing Prompt of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie and using the title prompt tale: A Fairytale with a Very Bad End.


Credit: Jeff Simpson


Maleficent stared from her dim dungeon-like castle eyeing King Stefan’s daughter, Aurora, playing in a wide open field.

She whispered to Crow, “They’re supposed to be watching her those three dim-witted fairies. When I was a good fairy, I watched my charges closely. How foolish they are, I could end her life now.”

Crow cawed, “She’s but ten years old and it isn’t her fault Stefan is her father. She doesn’t know what he did to you to become king.”

“Quiet, Crow. I’m thinking.”

“You think a great deal but never do much. Aurora knows what her fate is, those ignorant fairies told her. Now, whenever she can, she escapes to this field to play. She has no care for danger or death. Sometimes she sits and stares into the sky crying.”

“Why should I be merciful to her because she knows she will prick her finger and die in six-years? I owe her nothing. She is a means to an end.”

Crow cocked his head. “She is not responsible for her father’s crimes anymore than your parents were responsible for leaving you alone to rule the Marsh; your parents did not intend to die. Aurora, does not want to die either. Why not raise her yourself and find a way to undo the curse? Simply losing her will hurt Stefan deeply as the queen can’t have more children.”

Maleficent pinched the bridge of her nose. “I cannot undo such a powerful curse and I will not do Stefan any favours despite Aurora’s innocence. He raped me Crow, I was helpless. He cut off my wings. I will not save the girl.”

“You may change your mind yet. You have watched her for years and have become fond of her. You hate that she’s putting herself in peril now.”

“Fond?”

“Yes, you have this soft smile on your face when you watch Aurora. You never smile that way except with her.”

Maleficent’s voice went cold. “In that case . . . ” she pointed her wand at the blond beauty. Heart beating loudly in her ears, she struck the small girl down. Aurora death was instant and a single tear slipped down the dark fairy’s cheek.

“Now, you see, Crow? I have ended her life. I’m not attached to her and we will bury Aurora’s body in the Marshes. Aurora’s early death will bring Stefan greater pain. He will live his life not knowing what happened to his daughter. His queen will die in grief.”

Tears dropped as diamonds from Crows’ coal-black eyes and wouldn’t stop. “I do not think Stefan is the most evil being in the kingdom. You are the person most full of evil. Just as he lost his heart to become king and hurt you, you have ended the life of an innocent child and are no better.”

“I meant for you to truly act as Aurora’s Godmother — not to kill her. You should’ve been the one to guard and protect her; I thought you loved her.”

“Love is as treacherous as running off alone to a field . . .”

Crow’s caw was forlorn. “Aurora could’ve had a new beginning with us, but I cannot serve a fairy whose heart has become black with revenge, with blood on her hands from an innocent’s death. How far you have fallen, Maleficent.”

“Stefan is not responsible for your evil deeds; you are responsible for your own crimes.”

Crow bowed once and flew away forever. Maleficent was left alone and inside her chest her heart’s ache was perpetual.


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.