Notable Quotes: July 2018 Part 2 #pinterest #quotes #notablequotes


Hey! Happy Mid-July! I hope you’re having some fun vacations and holiday time, admist the usual summer activities. I’m almost 33 years-old! It’s kind of scary, but also good to know how far I’ve come I’ve come in a decade.

A decade ago I was still recovering from illness and was still quite sick! Today I’m a lot more well than I’ve been since that period. I think that’s something vital to celebrate. I hope you have reasons to celebrate during this week too.


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©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Three Line Tales/Music Challenge: Fiction – The Guilt of a Freshmen Love #amwriting #3LineTales #fiction #Musicchallenge #MLMM


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3Line Tales. Also, thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie‘s Music Challenge prompt #29 on the song “The Freshmen” by the Verve Pipe.


Credit: Michal Prucha via Unsplash


“The Freshmen” by the Verve Pipehttps://youtu.be/Jf3pXkBDhiE


When I was young I assumed I knew it all, and not one of us listened to each other; we hammered insults injuring with no thoughts for consequences. Then, we were guilt-stricken, sobbing as we crashed through thin-ice and drowned, as we insisted we weren’t obligated for denying our feelings; as swans plucked clean of feathers — our loves swallowed Valium. We denied them, they weren’t our responsibility because they fell in love first, but I’ll never know why we thought ourselves wise and wouldn’t compromise, washing our hands of our failed relationships — we never talk of dying for our sins; in the end we convinced ourselves, we were only freshmen.


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction/ Saturday Mix: Poem – Prose Poetry – “We the People” #amwriting #poetry #SaturdayMix #SPF


Thanks to Susan for hosting SPF. Also thanks to Sarah from MindLoveMisery Menagerie’s Saturday Mix Prompt of Opposing Forces. Today the two sets of words are: permit and forbid, and visitor and host. Sorry, this is longer than the regular 200 Words.


Credit: C.E. Ayer


He permits and forbids without reason, with much fallacious thought. He twists words as vines and slithers. A side-show becomes the center of the circus ring, as he pretends he can make you great.


But you don’t need him to flourish. Your strength is in your people, you’ve the right, the ability, to burn such policies to ash. You were great before his birth, before his residence. And — into time, and into the past — his words will fade as hell’s bells knell. With each message of condemnation, each compliment a serpent’s tongue lisping. You never know if you can trust him, and such delusion is surely a crime.


Yet, in a Republic or a Democracy, citizens may choose and remove those who speak only to their self-glories, not of Him above or those soldiers sacrificed; not of the everyday person’s self-sacrifice. He plots and in isolation, he’d have you flounder believing every typed character, every Slytherin parcel-tongued lie rasped. Not the truth that he’s cast on his belly and is nourished in slime. You’re not great because of him, but you are great despite him.


We, your ever watchful neighbor, curse the writing on the wall. Sometimes you’re all too near to see the deception that slips through every crack. Thistle-thorned, tree trunk-sized weeds, poisoning all right. But, if you blocked his words and turned away, gave him no more votes or attention. If you ignored him as a child who tantrums, and slammed the door to his room — his words and lies would fade, no more cats yowling. You could be as one who enters into a serene and secret garden, where suddenly, the silence of blubbering ceases, and your mind crystallizes.


You are the people, and no matter your past vote, you have more power than one man’s ploys. You can forbid his doctrine and not remain astray. While you’re a host of greatness forever reclaiming your liberation, you’ve also the freedom to make his presence, his disturbed and loquacious visit, a memory. Everyone falters, everyone knows the anger of manipulation — we’re all human. So, revise your independence for you all as, “We the People,” are the way to greatness.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Notable Quotes: July Part One 2018 #pinterest #quotes #notablequotes


Hello! Happy Canada Day on July 1st, and Independence Day on July 4th! I think Canada Day is one of my favorite holidays! Haven’t decided how I will celebrate yet, but at least the weather’s been beautiful! Working on perfecting the first few chapters of my novel to pitch, if that’s possible! Hope everyone is well 🙂


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©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Notable Quotes: June Part Three 2018 #pinterest #quotes #notablequotes


Hey, back from Vegas and I’m excited for summer festivals such as Shakespeare in the Park, The Street Performers, A Taste if Edmonton, K-days, and a few others. Summer is such a fun time.

When you’re buried in snow from November to the beginning of May, patio weather, summer festivities, and vacations help many of us through those rough cold times. Especially, if one can’t take a winter vacation. Anyways, whatever you season, enjoy it!


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©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Notable Quotes: JUNE Part Two #pinterest #quotes #notablequotes


Happy mid- JUNE. I’m off to Vegas on the nineteenth. So, excited for that as it’s been few years since I was there. Hope you all have some awesome summer vacations planned. I’ll be more absent than usual for a week or so from the nineteenth to twenty-sixth of June. Now, for some quotes:


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©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Three Line Tales: Expanded – Fiction – All Doors Lead to Wonderland #amwriting #fiction #3LineTales


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


Credit: Luis Alfonso Orellana via Unsplash


“Alice, is that you? Well, what door will you enter, the red door or the blue? The up or the down; it doesn’t matter you know, both are the same.” She fluffed her pony tale and straightened the lapels of her sky-blue blazer.

“Can’t Wonderland find another Alice? It’s a common name, you know. Just because my grandmother was, and my mother was, and somehow great-Grandpa Wren’s magical blood flows in my veins along with the first, Alice — doesn’t mean I have to follow in their footsteps. I left that world. I chose to leave. Why won’t you let me be?”

A grin appeared between the doors. “Dear girl, it’s you who can’t forget us; you found the doors home. That’s why you’re our guardian, but you as any Alice, must choose your path. Thus, you have before you two doors. Which door, dear Alice? You do have to decide. Time won’t wait.”

Alice trembled, and without thinking her hand turned the knob on the red door. Then, she was falling as the Cheshire cat laughed and Destiny caught up with Alice.

She’d tried to disappear, to become another young woman. But as her predecessors, including her dear mother, she was a guardian of Wonderland. The land of magic wouldn’t have it another way. She fell, and when she woke up, she sighed as brilliant flowers hovered over her whispering.

They beamed at her, brimming with questions. “Oh, Alice is it true? Have you come home. You’re the new guardian now, and your mother been waiting; her time is at an end. Five-hundred years is a long time not too see one’s daughter. Your time to serve has come. The white queen has decreed, as do your grandfather Wren’s people.”

Alice blew her hair from her face. “What’s the point of free will if your choices all lead you back to one path?”

The flowers shrugged. “Tulips and Marigolds don’t think of such things; we simply are.”


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Notable Quotes: June 2018 Part One #notablequotes #quotes #pinterest


Happy JUNE. Hope you are enjoying almost Summer or staying warm in nearly Winter, depending on where you’re from. Here’s some inspirational quotes for you. Some, only words to think about 🙂


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©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Writing Prompt: Poem – Free Verse – “Fallen Angel” #poetry #MLMM #amwritingo


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Sunday Writing.


Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie


Sea Angel, transparent wings transport,

With lights of butterscotch dawn.

Your pistils and stamen,

Tangy bright, a heated encounter of self;

A falsehood perverted.

Yet, your wispy grace flutters,

Luminescence lures with —

A cobra’s venom.

Such a strange angel,

No whispered warnings.

Your effervescent petals enchant–

In the dark.

Floral and fluorescent,

A perilous Lilly,

Not one of hope on a casket,

A Lily of spite and survival engrained.

For you are ancient —

As creations dawn and Eden’s loss.

In the depths you’ve continued,

The world changes but you know little of it.

Only of your pincer teeth,

Stings of sunflower razors.

Taking your prey into pitch.

Where you’re the only light,

The only flower.

As coldness numbs, their blood turns blue,

You steal a soul, angel of despair.

You’re the harbinger of evil;

Unrecognized or understood.

Beauty is your survival, your instinct;

And you’ve not the wit or care to know —

You’re a curse, you’re a witch,

You’re without light’s truthfulness.

You’re a ghost transculent;

Your poison, the end.

With vivacious glory,

Enthralling and cursed.

You lead astray,

Such lambs of the water,

To the depths of misery.

To the finality of nothingness.

Woe to you,

Fallen Angel,

Pandemonium’s first stone.


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction: A Gory Death Becomes #amwriting #fiction #SPF


Thanks to Susan for hosting SPF.


Credit: C.E.Ayer


Dust rose thick in the air, and the August sun scorched. The foreman and his workmen dripped sweat, and Natasha Roberts supervised her redesign.

The home’s white-washed stucco matched an aqua-tiled and white kitchen with ice-blue tones carrying into the great room. Glints of multi-colored metal, and a 1920’s inspired bar created a unique entertaining space.

The master-bedroom’s giant windows combined with simplified Art-Decl luxury. In contrast, original barn-doors with glass panes to the balcony, matched the ones downstairs that opened to an outdoor living space.

Natasha admired her creation; she was excited to make the house stylish, and to skim extra profit unbeknown to her clients.

The foreman yelled to her and she scoffed. “I’m coming.” What a hick.

She turned in red stilettos, her ruby dress swirling with its bell-sleeves. She teetered, and her heel caught on the sand-stone patio. Natasha screeched and her body lunged; her ankle and heel snapped. She crushed into white-washed walls, raven hair fanning as she fell.

The foreman witnessed Natasha’s death. He swore as her blood gushed, and crossed himself when he perceived she had no pulse.

Years later, he dreamed of Natasha’s mouth in a daily spitting-rage towards his skilled-workers. He remembered her scream as her ankle twisted at the same awkward angle as her neck. Nightmares haunted him; he believed Natasha deserved her gory end.


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.