Flash Fiction for The Purposeful Practitioner: Fiction – Her One #fiction #amwriting 


Thanks to Roger Shipp for hosting FFftPP. 

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Credit: http://www.pixebay.com

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(I truly meant for this to be Flash Fiction, but the story just developed. Sorry about the way – over word count.) 

Grandma June huffed at Natalie, her granddaughter visiting her at home.”You’re not getting any younger, you’re thirty-eight. You can’t barely have babies anymore!” 

Natalie rolled her eyes at Grandma June,”Gran, I’m an elementary school teacher. I like going home and not having to worry about kids.” 

June sighed,”It was that man, you were supposed to marry. He’s a thief and stole your heart; I’m right aren’t I?” 

Natalie ignored June’s question. She hated when her Grandma or anyone, talked about Christopher. She’d never admit he was her one. 

He had been since she was in grade ten and Christopher an attractive senior in high school. It was when he had first asked Natalie out. They’d broken-up, having had incompatible lives with Christopher away at university soon after. 

Then, seven-years-ago, they’d ran into each other and started talking and dating again. Natalie had convinced herself this was finally it. Sadly, a few weeks before the wedding, Christopher had disappeared; the memories were agony for her. 

—–

Two-week’s later, Grandma June called Natalie up to invite her to a wine and cheese night she was hosting for her neighbours. She had tried to decline but June was adamant Natalie attend. 

She arrived at her Grandma June’s surprisingly lively wine party, in jeans and a white t-shirt. She had barely bothered to apply makeup as Natalie had come from the gym and was worn out. 

“Oh you came,” Grandma June said excitedly, approaching Natalie as she let herself inside. She hugged June and kissed her cheek, as June poured Natalie a large glass of red wine and filled her plate with bread and cheese. She winked at Natalie and left her alone in a small sitting room to rest before joining the other guests. 

“Natalie?” A deep voice said. She turned on the sofa towards the sitting room door. Christopher’s voice shocked her, she had almost doused herself in red wine. His familiar timber filled Natalie with great pain. She peered up at him feeling raw, as if he’d only left her yesterday without explanation. 

Tears began dripping down Natalie’s cheeks; she was crying and couldn’t stop herself. Christopher immediately sat down on the sofa beside Natalie and pulled her close; he wiped her tears away with his thumb. She tried to jerk out of his arms, but he wouldn’t let her move. 

“I’m not letting you go, ever again,” Christopher swore.”I can’t explain much about why I had to leave you, only that I didn’t have a choice.” 

Natalie shoved him hard, “You have nothing more to say, nothing at all?” 

Christopher was noticeably upset, “I told you I worked as an IT consultant. But I could never tell you or anyone who I worked for until recently. I worked for Special Forces in the army and I was called out to a job. It’s the only thing I can’t about. The job lasted years, and I wasn’t allowed to contact anyone. We saved countless lives, but it was awful what I did to you and being without you. I’m sorry.” 

Natalie rubbed her swollen eyes, “You’re a liar Christopher. You could’ve mentioned something, anything. What do you want now? To stay for a while and then leave?To rip me apart again?” 

Christopher buried his face in his hand, before gazing up at her: “I’m out now Natalie. I swear to you I work for regular businesses now, nothing to do with Special Forces or the army. I’ve no more secrets other than experiences of war and blood. I came back here for you, I even moved into a house on your Grandma June’s street. I hoped somehow, you and I could be together again. I love you.” 

Natalie made a sound of frustration. Emotions of both anger and feeling relieved assaulted her. Despite her anger at Christopher, Natalie knew inside, there would never be another man for her but him. 

To Christopher’ surprise, Natalie moved to sit in Christopher’s lap and be closer to him, to breathe in how delicious he smelt. 

“Marry me now and we can do whatever celebration our families want later. I’m still mad at you Christopher but you’re it for me. I’ve always loved you and always will. If you can be with me and never leave me like that again, I can forgive you.” 

Christopher nodded at Natalie, saying: “I promise.” He held Natalie tightly and kissed her lips hungrily

Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the sitting room door and Grandma June walked in, a smile on her face. June’s boyfriend Nigel was with her and so was the local United Church minister. 

Natalie looked at Christopher, “Did you do all this?” 

Christopher shook his head, squeezing Natalie tight and kissing her cheek. He pulled out a beautiful sapphire and diamond ring set from his pocket. He slid the engagement ring on Natalie’s finger, and Grandma June handed Natalie a ring which had been her Grandfather’s wedding ring. 

June smiled at Natalie and Christopher, a gleam in her clever blue-eyes. All was at it should be, she thought as her and Nigel witnessed her granddaughter’s wedding ceremony. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

#OctPoWriMo – Day 27 – Ghazal – “Scent Divine” #amwriting #poetry 


Day 27 Prompt: Favorite Scent

“Fragrance is a powerful thing. It can bring you back to your favorite meal your mother used to make, to your first kiss, to any number of events in your life. Free write for 10 minutes and see where your nose leads you, if your words need some encouragement, walk outside, down the street, through a mall, through a forest until your nose reminds you and the words begin to flow.” 
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http://www.kesuada.com

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Scent of cinnamon, apple pie freshly made, divine,

Fresh bread, spice cookies, shortbread, chocolate craved divine

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Easter ham glazed with pineapple rings, smoked, homemade.

Perogies, bacon, onion, soft sating divine

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Walking outside after it rains, pine scent invades

Deep breath, acrid wonderful smell nature divine

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Puppies and kitties, newborn babes, a scent persudes

Love, care for, feed and adore, keep safe those divine. 

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Incense in churches, candles burning, chants disuade

Wine strong, broken bread, prayers with coffee wake the divine

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Ghazal: 

“A Ghazal is a poem that is made up like an odd numbered chain of couplets, where each couplet is an independent poem. It should be natural to put a comma at the end of the first line. The Ghazal has a refrain of one to three words that repeat, and an inline rhyme that preceedes the refrain. Lines 1 and 2, then every second line, has this refrain and inline rhyme, and the last couplet should refer to the authors pen-name… The rhyming scheme is AA bA cA dA eA etc.”

Please see Shadow Poetry for further information 

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©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Writing 101: Poem – Free Verse – “A Day is A Life Time.” #everydayinspiration


The prompt for Writing 101 today is to write about an event that takes place in a single day. Also, I will be including The Daily Post word prompts Phase, Dream, and Grain. I’m trying something with poetry and I hope the result isn’t tedious.

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It started in the morning ending at —

Evening; children who were born with —

A scream on their lips, removed from —

The womb; swaddled in blankets.

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Life is a day and each day we spend —

One single day, representing —

A lifetime; not knowing each day —

Could end in a moments glance. 

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Babe once born, phase into toddler, 

Sucking on bottles, weened off.

Already, personality —

Forming; individual who tantrums.

—–

Couldn’t get her way playing in her —

Pre-school; no hitting allowed there. 

Prepares her for kindergarten, 

Where she better know her typing.

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To write her name proudly with her,

Markers scribbling future —

Artist; parent’s dream but she’s holding —

Building blocks; then she’s finished–

—-

Being a kid, now screaming to —

Her brother, ‘stay out of my bed —

Room;’ texting her friends, their all —

Nearly sixteen, appearing twenty-one.

—–

She’s been drinking since thirteen-years, 

Not weird to her; she’s been there before.

Degree in engineering of —

Structures; dreams building stream-lined.

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Caught the eye of a man where she works, 

He’s ten-years her senior at his —

Prime; another engineer, they’ve —

Two kids, girl and a boy, on their —

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Own journeys; and she’s divorced.

Only thirty-five, raising teenagers, 

Tiring of her career; her daughter–

Pregnant; along comes grandchildren.

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She’s only forty and remarries, 

Her true soul mate she says, kids hate —

Him; replacing father they never see, 

Grandma raising baby of her daughter.

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Mom is forty-five; son marries girl,

A beautiful blond, into fine art.

Mom doesn’t like her; girl’s a phase.

Son has three kids and stays married.

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Daughter won’t talk; sends home one more —

Squalling infant for Grandma to —

Care for and work too; step-Opa glad, 

Never had kids, he loves his grandbabies.

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The grandbabies grow and she’s pushing —

Sixty-five-years; grandkids moving —

Out; hoping they do better than her —

Sweet daughter; dead, needle marks proof.

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She wants to travel, she’s been all —

Over the world but only for work.

So Oma and Opa see the —

World divine; slowing down in life.

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She teaches, a class or two for —

Dumb first-year engineer students, 

Doesn’t know how they’ll fill her shoes, 

But they’ve all this technology.

—–

Eighty-six and she’s alone; her soul —

Mate, he passed away; time speeds through, 

She has a dog that keeps her happy, 

But she out-lives the dog as well.

—–

Grains of sand sifting, her time comes, 

In hospital they can’t believe she’s, 

One-hundred-and-one; she dies with —

Great-grandkids crying for their Oma.

—-

This, is a lifetime you say not —

One single day, but you don’t see,

How with such quickness, a lifetime —

Is reduced to one significant —

One magnimounous little, 

Day before God; finally, wandering home.

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction: We All Look


Dressed in cut-off denim shorts and a black halter top, a slim figure with rounded breasts and hips, distracted men who passed by her at the race track.

Many females with their men, gave the woman dirty looks. Elma elbowed Nathaniel.

“I can’t help it,” Nathaniel complained. “It’s a biological instinct.”

“Yeah right,” said Elma is wife of thirty-years. 

“It’s true Elma. Men naturally stare at other woman, it’s an evolutionary thing.” Nathaniel said.

“Oh hell. Did you have to bring this up?” 

“Let me explain. Once men look they’re done. Even if in that moment we’re comparing a pretty lady to our wives, we don’t remember what woman we were looking at.” 

Elma muttered something under her breath.

“I’ve never been able to not look. Most guys would say the same, even our sons. But your average guy doesn’t want to be with a stranger he’s giving the once over,” Nathaniel said.

“We’re with our wives because we love them. Because we like being with them, even if their figures aren’t perfect, or they have stretch marks from babies, it doesn’t matter.”

Elma stopped walking. “I guess that makes sense. But why are you still checking out that woman? You’ve already seen how she looks?” Nathaniel mumbled something.

At the same time, local male strippers were signing posters for women at the race track. Elma shrieked, “I’ll be right back.” 

Returning, she peered at her signed poster and back at the shirtless muscular strippers with a smile on her lips.

 “Ahem,” Nathaniel said. 

Elma smiled at Nathaniel and clasped his hand in hers.

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Sorry for the lateness on this prompt. I’m not into race car driving and had to think of a way to approach this picture. Thanks to Alistair Forbes who hosts SPF.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

NaPoWriMo: Poem – Long Lines – “Eleven- Years Strong “


Finally, our prompt (optional, as always!) Today’s prompt comes to us from Megan Pattie, who points us to the work of the Irish poet Ciaran Carson, who increasingly writes using very long lines. Carson has stated that his lines are (partly) based on the seventeen syllables of the haiku, and that he strives to achieve the clarity of the haiku in each line. So today, Megan and I collectively challenge you to write a poem with very long lines. You can aim for seventeen syllables, but that’s just a rough guide. If you’re having trouble buying into the concept of long lines, maybe this essay on Whitman’s infamously leggy verse will convince you of their merits. Happy writing!

Please see NaPoWriMo for more information.

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Missing the ladies, who I grew into adulthood with and we saw,

The Grand Canyon in its burnt orange and red glory set,

Peering far down into the canyon, too close to the edge smiling,

Pulling each other back, to flash pictures on cameras all of us worn.

And planning each Thursday night to go dancing and drinking down on Whyte,

Collecting free drinks, shots from young men, paying ninty-nine-cents at the end.

Frequently, snapping pictures at winter formals, wearing our finest,

Staying at the fanciest and most historical hotel for sixty bucks,

Four girls to a room, preparing their hair and makeup, perfection, beauty.

If only I could be as fat, as I thought I was at twenty-one-years-old,

Thinking my stomach stuck-out, it wasn’t concave, it was fine and flat.

Walking through Vegas in stiletto heels, not feeling the pain, lost shoe —

My friend had a lovely Silky black-heel, she dropped walking back, barefoot.

Crying at 3:00 am (forget), remember times smiling and laughing.

Working in the same store, I dream I work their at night with my ladies,

Now raising kids, puppy training, fiancés, husbands, moving in — life changes.

From twenty-years-old to thirty-one-years old nearly; eleven years still strong.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Sky Haven 


http://www.pixebay.com

When each night a passage of poetry can be written, you stand in the darkness and for a second or two listen.

There are many ways to say what you want. You are waiting for the correct words to form, to blossom as buds do and give birth to splendour.

A whimsical ethereal story, of the magic that cannot be understood by all. The painfully slow process of making words live.

Try as I might, I can’t sleep right now. I came home so worn; but I think I’ve repaired to listen to the dishwasher hum.

And to hear the flame that burns eternal at the plants in the distance; the sound the outside makes, when wind wallops window pane.

If that doesn’t lull you to sleep, the cars racing by will; and the tiny ones stuck in their cribs will not sleep and they can relate.

What it is to be wide awake and not know how to say: I need to be entertained now; you in your own house know how to make time shift.

You know what moments are like as you fall to the dreams; the sandman comes whisking you into a nightmare, behold.

And the moon in the sky, an orb of glass above, paints the starry sky in pinks, greens, yellow, orange, and blue. Light fills the abyss of the night.

Standing below a painting gifted by nature, you stare and you wonder. What words will satisfy to describe a blend of paint on the largest canvas. Can my words do justice to a haven in the sky?

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Grow


Growth is a strange thing to watch from a distance; to see your bestfriends when you were young, become ‘adult’adults.

To see the drinking binges slow to every now and then; to not order drinks with dinner because we’re trying to be healthy.

To see your friends not stuck anymore in someplace that was holding them back; to see them educate themselves for work and travel for training.

To see them couple up; to see couples years together break it off; to see some couples get married to people who actually complement them.

To see your friends have babies, one or two or three; to sit at a table where Mommy topics are debated; and staying healthy, eating fresh, organic, vegetables and meat is the score.

To have friends in high school and in university who have passed away; to wonder where they went. To hope that they went to heaven because you know no one is invincible to death. 

To have friends who suffer diseases : cancer, MS, and mental illness; depression is a common thing and so is anxiety, yet our awareness that we could have any disease at our age is covered by our blinders. 

To have had a job or two in actual grown-up jobs that pay salaries that pay the bills; that you can shop for your own food; take care of a pet; to save and move into a house. 

I watch you all growing and I’m proud that you’re grown. I just hope you keep growing and never ‘act’ old. Even though your responsible to your partner now.

 I watch from the distance and you don’t see it because I’m slower then you; but I am growing too.

I have to grow in a different way to find balance in my world. I need to grow in spirit and imagine what is possible. I pray to grow just as you do someday. 

Writing 101: Day 15 – The Power of Friends


Prompt: What or Why is it important to go out with friends, interact with people, and have fun. ( Idea provided by clcouch123 . Please check out his blog and  his wonderful Psalms.)

When I was a little girl I didn’t have the easiest time making friends with other girls. I would be friends with a girl for awhile then a fight would happen and the friendship would cease. Both parties would go play with someone else. In consequence, I spent a lot of time hanging out with the boys and playing sports or rough-housing. Maybe, this could have been because I had two younger brothers and was use to playing with them. I was also a tubby little girl so the guys didn’t see me as a ‘girl’ per say, because I didn’t quite have the skinny physique that the popular girls had.

But time changes social status. I was skinny and pretty in Jr. High but Sr. High had its moments of misery. But when university began, since I had had such a small graduating class at my high school, the kids who went to the university across the football field from the high school, were close to each other for the first two years of university. I hung out with my friends and new friends from high school. Some of my university pals became busy around third year as some of them opted for a three year BA, especially if they were going into a teaching degree afterwards. As a result, I made new friends, many from the University Bookstore I worked at throughout my BA. A girl named T worked with me and I made friends with a bunch of her friends from high school on a Pubcrawl, one extremely fun Halloween. I made friends with her cousins too and it was the year the Oilers were in the Stanley Cup final so we had fun watching hockey then heading to Whyte Ave for crazy fandamonium. We meant another girl named L in my fourth year of my degree and became friends with a girl K I knew who worked at the university in development; also my friend from highschool S, and her friend from Russia A were part of my circle. There were other girls we hung out with when we went out and an even larger group of people we socialized with. Now my social circle is made up of a small group of girls, who I have been friends with since university and even before that.

Most of my good friends are married or have a serious boyfriend. I can only think of one or two who are single like me. I was single for along time. I had no boyfriend in university. Then I was too sick for two or three years to handle a relationship and finally at twenty-six-years old I started dating A and we dated for four years.

But all these times I have spent with friends from whatever age I was, why was that so important? Well, friends help us validate who we are. We know in our families that we are accepted for being us and because often our own short fallings are the same short fallings are parents deal with too. But when we make friends when we’re children we learn to get along with people who are different from us. The lessons we learn from our parents can be different from lessons other kids are learning from their parents. We may gravitate to other kids who are different from us because that is appealing to us, to not follow what our parents say. Or, we may end up being friends with people who are a lot like us, who have to follow similar rules, and are in similar activities.

Children are often talented at making friends. But some kids have something about them that makes them different from other kids. Maybe they are poor, look geeky, are chubby, or another kid decides they are jealous of them or don’t like them. Bullying is a terrible action that occurs to some kids, an action  that scars kids and their parents alike. If you asked certain bully’s why they hurt other kids when they did, they probably wouldn’t know. They would say they didn’t like a particular kid. Maybe, they were having trouble at home or they were bullied too. It seems whatever our generation there are mean kids around to make other kids miserable. 

How we act with other kids, determines a lot of  our happiness when we are in our pre-teenage and teenage years. We crave acceptance, to be part of the crowd. We want to fit in. The validation we receive from our peers makes us feel good; it makes us cool. It makes us feel as if we belong somewhere. Once we come to University or College we find there are  many types of groups and friends for everyone to hang out with in classes, sports, campus events, campus clubs, going out at night, and many other events. 

Having a large group of friends was a lot of fun for me. I could be my quiet self but I could also get my fix of crazy. This was especially important in University as an outlet for the stress caused by taking five courses at a time, working part-time, and being involved in campus life. It was a miracle to party on the weekends, to drink and forget stress. It was a relief to have fun with friends and meet new people. It made me feel that I could handle stuff in the week because on the weekend I was a wild girl who didn’t have to be responsible. There were bad points about my style of life such as friends who became angry or cried a lot when they were drunk. Also,  there were boys we hurt or hurt us when feelings weren’t returned after the weekend party was over. The binge drinking wasn’t the smartest either. 

Since, I went on disability from work seven or eight years ago, being with my friends has taken on new meaning beyond school.  I enjoy conversations one on one more; I concentrate better. But I love anytime my friends and I can give each other over a coffee or tea. I like that we can go to events that have drinking but I also like that we go to events that are not drinking events. I enjoy going over to a friend’s place and having a glass of wine, or having friends over to my house for wine; but I like Wine Tastings too. My friends and I have gone on vacations together and learned a lot about dealing with each others differences. We have house parties and we play card games and board games. There is still conversation about comparison of classes but they we are for self-improvement and for job education. We have seen ourselves going from young twenty somethings to adults who are around thirty and becoming married, having kids, and moving into houses and condos. We share advice with each other and support each other. Sometimes we help babysit. Sometimes we just listen to a friend who is dealing with a ‘real life issue.’ We are vital to each other because people need a support network in life, and family and friends are a part of that network. We need our friends to help us get through ill health, and love us even when we are ill or being a bad friend. We need advice when it comes to choosing someone we want to spend our lives with, or a portion of our lives. We need to listen to each other and give that gift of understanding, despite our own opinions. We share about our lives and look forward to times we will see each other again. For these reasons, fun time with friends is vital. 

 

 

 

 

Late Night Wanderings


I think I’m asleep now, maybe in a moment. Okay now I’m asleep. Okay not yet. Perhaps now. No not yet. I think I’ll try some more melatonin. That ought to do it. If I dissolve them underneath my tongue there is a much greater chance I’ll drift off to sleep . . .

Okay still not asleep. I guess I didn’t dissolve the melatonin properly in my mouth. Should I try a few more tablets?

Hey, I wonder how I should get my hair done tomorrow? Definitely going for the dark brown lowlights and I think the haircut from that picture of the blond on Pinterest. But longer then hers. I have to keep it long enough so I can put it up in a bun or chignon or braid it how I like. Speaking of which Kate hasn’t had very many new hair tutorials lately on her blog? I’d like to learn some new ways to do my hair but ever since her babies she just mostly talks about her baby David and the one in her tummy. I guess babies keep you extremely busy, never mind the lack of sleep . . .

Still not asleep! I wonder if I just shut my eyes and make myself sleep maybe it will happen. Too much napping this afternoon. But I was very sleepy around 5 pm. Okay, not asleep, did I take my sleeping pills, all of them? No maybe, I missed a couple. But tell the doctor that and they bubble pack your Meds like your elderly and living in the home.

I wonder what kind of picture I’ll need to take tomorrow? Maybe I should check now since I’ll be out. Hair then flu shot and drugstore. Last time I got a needle the pharmacist made me bleed. That was weird, I didn’t think needles did that except for blood tests.

NOT SLEEPING! Okay definitely didn’t take a couple sleeping pills. 200 mg Gabepentin stat!

Three minutes later . . .