Fiction: “Nomadic Heart” #amwritingfiction


Credit: Adrian Dascal via Unsplash


Linnea ambles with grace down the cobbled streets, backpack slung. The afternoon sunlight reflects in wedges off sculptured buildings, and pedestrians on motorized ‘wheelies’ whiz past her.

She’s chosen ‘berry pink’ hair for today, hidden beneath her helmet. The remote bracelet on her hand flickers amber, and images of the city (places Linnea frequents) appear in front her; she’s the only one who can see them.

She is anxious to find her next home. The ‘all-seeing eye,’ (the same one on her leather jacket) flashes as she shoves her Stans (converse runners) into her ‘wheelie,’ speeding towards her new apartment in seconds. Inside she hoists the ultra-light vehicle over her shoulder before scanning her hand to enter the eclectic living space.

Linnea runs up the hallway stairs and tosses her leather jacket on the couch; her wheelie rests nearby. Lounging on the couch Linnea flicks through vivid images of flowers on a large screen while eating Thai left overs from the fridge.

She chooses images to tattoo on her skin in one painless scan. Most will fade in a week, but there are three which never disappear. They’re the only piece of home she always has with her.

Her eyes spot her jacket and the ‘all seeing-eye’ warning her; it flickers white and Linnea knows that she can’t remain. The beeps of the real tenant’s handprint scanning quickens her pulse; she needs to find a new hideaway. A silver-haired man steps in through the front door and she throws on her gear; Linnea slips out before he notices. Her Stans are in place on her ‘wheelie’ again as she takes off down the street.

Linnea’s life was a series of hopping from place to place. She swore as the wheelie zoomed faster. They called this the future, but the future resembled the past in too many ways. For some people it didn’t matter, they never had a home, a place ‘just’ theirs. For some people their nomadic heart forever wandered and always would; home was an illusion.


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

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Three Line Tales: “Small Steps” #amwritingfiction #flashfiction


Thanks to Sonya for hosting #3LineTales.


Credit: https://unsplash.com/photos/e5eDHbmHprg


His foot padded on terra firma and his heart squeezed; lunar dust floated in the vacuum of space. Inside the space suit he sweated bouncing, taking careful but ‘small’ steps for ‘mankind;’ he was a history-maker, a hero. Still, part of him wondered if the effort had been worth it as the specs of lunar dust in his gloves floated; he contemplated whether he was nearer to his maker here or on the cerulean orb below.


–A.M. Eifert


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

100 Word Wednesday: “Star of the Floor” #amwritingfiction


Credit: Spencer Davis via Unsplash.


Leona tossed her hat. In the end, it was her on the dance floor in nude heels. A flash of light caught her eye on the turquoise ribbon from her hat; she laughed as the audience clapped. Her partner grinned, and she strutted towards the bar. Sweat dripped.

“A shot tonight Leona?” Carlos lifted the tequila bottle; Leona held up her hand.

“Not tonight, just water. Two.” She gulped the first glass, and after the second.

“Take it easy out there, Leona,”Carlos chided. You don’t have to be the star of the show every night. Take it easy sometimes.”

Leona threw back her long hair. “I can’t help it.”

Carlos rolled his eyes. “You’re the owner. Some nights it’s okay to relax.”

Leona pushed away from the bar. “I’m a dancer, that’s what I do. My mother did the same, her mother to. You know how it is.”

Carlos’ face broke into laugh lines as he chuckled. “I knew your mother well.”

Leona fixed her lipstick. “She was what she was; so am I.”

The music for the next dance song played and Leona twirled into place. As long as she could, her grandmother and mother’s legacy would continue at the dance club they began.


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

Three Line Tales: “Lake Loss” #amwritingpoetry


Thanks to Sonya for Only 100 Words.


Credit: Kong Jun via Unsplash.


Waves lapped at the shores, on the sand, toe-burying beaches; a lone cross stood where Jeffrey Adams built sand castles. He giggled as the tide came in, his mother laughed as he splashed into the lake further; then, the bottom of the lake dropped along with her heart. Seven-years later the blaring sun stung Mrs. Adam’s eyes; each June, their family went to Pebble beach and hung floating beach toys on the cross — Jeffrey has loved his flamboyant pink flamingo best.

(Sorry, a sad one.)


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

Photo Challenge: Fiction – I Need You Anyways #amwritingfiction #photochallenge #mindlovemiserysmenagerie


Thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Photo Challenge.


Credit: MLMM — Gabriel Isak


Grey, bleak, fogginess floods through summer light. An icy breeze whipping hair in my mouth, as the gulls chirp overhead and my last bottle shatters; no more messages in a bottle, carried in the waves. Paper airplanes glide in the breeze, one after the other. Will the breeze carry these words far enough? To the next island, the next ship? Or will these bottle–less messages be pounded in the wild storm, in the coast? Will they be understand? Will they be heard? Or, will it be too late to say the words that are never easy to say, never were: “I need you anyways.”


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

NaPoWriMo Day 29: Free Verse — “Healing Splinters”’#amwritingpoetry


For NaNoWriMo Day 29, Used my own prompt again.


Credit: Marinka Vinkman via Unsplash.


A perfect pane of glass, and all seen is crystal clear,

A rock chip fractured the perfection, and something broken won’t ever be the same.

The fracture lines still show, and slivered splinters ache.

Tiny diamonds to pull out; you can’t remove the pain yourself.

So, you sit and someone you don’t know, pokes and prods; it looks easy to remove,

The shard, the sliver, the hurt.

But, they dig around and hum a tune, as if these moments are nothing;

Small agony, plastic smiles in the end — as if a person’S brushed past.

Then, all of the paint, and the thickening mediums flood the canvas sky.

The masterpiece peeling paint, blotched lines, trailing wet drips, paths down a wall;

A damp foggy space and you keep cutting yourself, unable to see ten-steps ahead;

Day-by-day, you learn to let your wounds be, to reform pottery takes time — to heal with precious metal.

What’s the price, what’s the damage?What’s the favor or end game; what are the lies?

But then everyone’s suffering slivers, there’s glass on every road;

Popped tires, cars skid, windshields stunned; windows battered.

Eyes close, too many slivers slice, each somedays,

What’s the method to remove them without prodding half-healed scars?

Change a thoughtless habit, change the world; change only need be small.

No one asks for slivers, embedded glass in their hand, scar tissue that makes tiny wounds bleed;

When any human, no matter their background cries, mercy should be given without fail;

Care and concern without a price as sometimes there’s help — but then there’s help —

Precarious day’s where both you and I’ve done untold damage — but I’m learning we must repair wounds despite.

Tiny or gaping, the hurt matters not when it can be healed — be it with ease or struggle.


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

NaPoWriMo Day 17/ Photo Challenge: Poem – Free Verse – “The Raven’s Meeting” #amwritingpoetry


Thanks to NEKNEERAJ, from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie, Photo Challenge. For NaPoWriMo Day 17, the prompt is:


“Today, I’d like you to challenge you to write a poem that similarly presents a scene from an unusual point of view. Perhaps you could write a poem that presents Sir Isaac Newton’s discovery from the perspective of the apple. Or the shootout at the OK Corral from the viewpoint of a passing vulture. Or maybe it could be something as everyday as a rainstorm, as experienced by a raindrop.


Credit: Gabriel Isaak


Because you brought hope too,

I thought we were meant to meet.

Your foot prints deep diagonals in the sand,

Trails of hair caught in the winds thrall.

Eyes caramel touched by ebony,

Mirrored my eyes of coals marbled, my ravens plumage too.

Your locks dance, as my wings reach towards you.

You were my olive branch, but you stood there starring as if —

You were caught in the storm too,

Feet weighted to the ground, cement.

My claws didn’t indent your fine sweater — the wool could’ve snarled my talons.

Your lids flutter, strange, wide as if I’d surprised you.

And when I chirped, (squawked to some), you understood my peril,

The angst of having nothing left inside to fly.

Not to bleed and call forth the ocean’s tyrants.

For a while I stood, peered —

And on your arm, my ruffled feathers rested,

Your strange white-talons graze my head,

And my feathers are swept a moment by skin.

Maybe, you could understand a moment,

Survival without security.

Your eyes translated a kind of pain, our loss both,

Mine without a mate to soar, or the immortality of eggs;

Yours what? A loss I did not know except a need to rest,

For hours I stood shaking, your face nuzzled mine,

Any your limbs folded under, we slept soft on your coat.

Then, the slender sun lit,

You stretched one arm, head tilted,

Our eyes met, as you turned your other limb, and laughed ( ravens laugh too, you know),

I teetered awhile and the conversation clear, despite my peeps, your chatter in response.

Then, you turned, squelching footprints marked your trail from the sea.

So, I arose, and in dawns flight I left behind the blight before your presence;

I didn’t feel alone, I didn’t feel so lost,

I cawed once more.

Then, I drifted with gentle currents and thought,

We were both the better for our nights rest, our meeting.


Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 14: Poem – Free Verse – “Whatever it Will Be” #amwritingpoetry


For NaPoWriMo Day 14, the prompt is:


“Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem that incorporates homophones, homographs, and homonyms, or otherwise makes productive use of English’s ridiculously complex spelling rules and opportunities for mis-hearings and mis-readings.”


Credit: Hasan Almasi via Unsplash.


Confusion, push through a weighted-wall,

Punch through brick each day.

Scattered concentrate, bleeding buckled, blood slick.

Sometimes it’s okay, a veil so thin it’s passing through sheer silk-organza;

Some days this uplifting breeze, and energy pulses, as if anything were possible.

As if nights could be replaced, vodka-slime and rye-and-gin, no waiting.

Not night’s you’d ever feel ill; all endless Luna-lit trails.

Smiles and dancing, no worries, the possibility of everything;

Today was good, and it wasn’t lonely, not exhausting.

Not a day-past, but a new one made, no-weightedness, no tiredness, no foggy dreams.

No friends downed by c#%^*r, MS, anxiety, addiction, and the wait for good news.

No, loved ones nearer to that other door, where we’re all lost.

Stories created, old ones read with smiles.

No fun times done, no ones personality alters with time or pain.

A world. alight in history, the here-and-know, in all its possibilities,

Light lingers in each window pane.

I like those days — hope the future can have such moments as dear,

As the thrill of lost nights, and the wisps of memories.

Clear and vibrant, not tinged with the weight of whatever we all face,

But, twilight’s marmalade sky shifts

Mango, vermilion, that tanginess of night.

Wilting sunflowers, dried,

For some reason, some tomorrow’s are Mind-numbing,

No shoes to walk-in and understand, if others don’t want.

But I love those bright days, those times I‘m strong,

Even if I’ve endorphins a moment, a few seconds,

Where I’m tac-sharp before the haze settles.

Sleep for a moment, only to wake hiking a trail, along a wild pathway — meteorite-dust trails.

Someday, whatever it will be.


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 10: Poem – Free Verse “Despite” #amwritingpoetry


For NaPoWriMo Day 10 I’m writing a poem not based on that days prompt.


Credit: Pinterest.com

Wake me in vermilion and peach,

The sunset explodes, but I’ll sleep through, gaze as it blends with cerulean sky.

The beauty of a light –I’m awake and have the energy of a thousand years in hours.

Wake me up, when my bones aren’t stiff and my mind not muddled.

For healing, offer carmine apples, lush lemons sour;

Hot pink tulips leaning towards sunshine, the omniscient glimmer.

A liberty in nature’s art, space to breath and become;

God, don’t let me drown,

Or tumble; don’t let my mind muddle, my body betray.

Never return to those darkest hours, the hurt of anger, such rage;

The storm that swallowed me; yet, created me as ‘me’ today — whoever I’m becoming,

As I tread, swim through cement waves and air seethes into my lungs when I surface.

Aid me as I discover, my rhythm in life, melodic movement to overcome the dim.

Let me meander verdant forests, trails of enlightenment, peace to wander and laugh,

Picnics, wine, and beaches in the sun, with my friends and loved ones.

Leave me in tranquility to amble amongst wild fuchsia flowers,

Let life not be rigid, placed in rows upon rows of suffering.

As the wild flowers bloom in every direction, soothe my soul every way it leans.

For I fear that it will never grow upright, gain the suppleness of a giant oak;

Perhaps, I’m flimsy, but you renew my strength.

And whichever way I’m swept, let the daylight warm my petals; my flexible stem let it bend.

Though white skins burns, let your healing burn brighter, as sleep soothes all wounds;

Let not little strokes, those choking quakes, break me from my journey.

So, I’ll keep pushing, the blue bird unafraid to try to dive;

My stomach aches and falls to the ground, the shadows swim closer, yank me under the waves.

Yet, in your hands I’m safe, there’s no harm, my wingspan lengthens,

I may limp, but that’s never meant I cannot fly, achieve possibilities despite misery’s woes.

Despite — I’ll always take flight despite.


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 6: Poem – Blitz – “Something” #amwritingpoetry


For NaPoWriMo Day 6 the prompt is:


Today’s video is this TED talk on “Why People Need Poetry.” Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem of the possible. What does that mean? Today, write a poem that emphasizes the power of “if,” of the woulds and coulds and shoulds of the world.


Credit: Thought Catalog via Unsplash.


What if the ever became all,

And you kept going still?

Still, you kept rising with the tide

Still, you kept writing and always had time

Time to live, strive, and heal,

Time to believe the words were real.

Real as any you’d ever heard,

Real as the sun blazing, moon a stage-light dreamed,

Dreamed, imagined, written, and spoken

Dreamed, perceived, with conditions to succeed

Succeed beyond wild illusion and the path of misery

Succeed beyond hypocrisy, a losing of yourself

Yourself climbs and soars

Yourself leaps, stomach drops, but you’re gliding

Gliding as the parasailer, survivor despite crashing

Gliding because rising is impossible without falling

Falling isn’t reason to let go

Falling isn’t reason to curl into a ball, weep

Weep for poetry’s drudgery, being mislead

Weep for the things you cannot change

Change despite the hurt, muscles yearning to stretch

Change take your life-bricks — build

Build dreams, light as air-particle hopes

Build your foundations stable as might

Might that lives inside because you’ll rebuild despite

Might that thrives, you’re free to write and be alive

Alive to heal, flourish, learn

Alive to be whatever you perceive

Perceive that age is not the truth of it

Perceive the truth is to age with grace; laugh at heart

Hearts beat strong, thump with reflection

Hearts collide and ache, the wise know well

Well that here as we are, we can only stumble

Well that the man upstairs knows it all

All with clarity, in someways, we have it all —

All the time to jot and dabble

Dabble to compose words that unravel

Dabble to sculpt, build up acrylic colors

Colors that blur, chroma creates illusory delight

Colors create the scenery, the backdrop

Backdrop to meander the verdant Amazon

Backdrop to shiver in the bright of Alaska’s midnight

Midnight is a place in life and in writing

Midnight is peace as words flow off your tongue

Tongue be silent, hands click faster, feather light

Tongue murmur the words as they pass onto screen, paper

Paper trails of dust to starlight trails, black holes of ice

Paper trails that mock, have us stumble

Ice melts, we’ve everything in our grasp

Stumble because other days, we’ve nothing — that’s something too.


©️Mandibelle16. (2019) All Rights Reserved.