Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Beyond Words or Woofs #amwriting #flashfiction #dogs #homelessness


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

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Credit: Fandango


The trails meander through the river valley park where the city erected unique benches made from verdant trees felled to create park pathways. At night Paul and his four dogs inhabit a particular bench. They rest their tired legs and pant joyfully, cooling off from the hot humid summer days, during the night.

However, in the winter the dogs huddle against Paul, absorbing each other’s heat. Paul doesn’t have much in his tattered backpack. Only a oversized bottle of water, a bag of dog food, a couple of protein bars, and thin blankets for the dogs. But one night the ice creeps up frosting Paul’s beard. It’s -45 degrees Celsius outside and the homeless shelters are full.

Despite layers of clothing Paul trembles and his teeth chatter; he can’t sleep in this miserable blizzard. He’s terrified the dogs will freeze to death — they’re his family and all he values in the world. He covers them, wrapping them in blankets before spreading the sleeping bag across them all. Their fur is frosted over and he keeps rubbing them with his gloved hands to keep their bodies from stiffening.

Suddenly, a light shines, blinding Paul in the treacherous cold, then his body heats as if he were sitting out on a beach in Mexico on the perfect hot day. The dogs peer up at him from the white sand, wagging their tails. Paul and his dogs have moved on and exist in a place beyond words or woofs. They’ve left cruelty behind.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Friday Fictioneer: No Place Like Home #amwriting #flashfiction #fiction 


Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff Fields for hosting FF.

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Credit: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

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It was difficult living on the farm, being cutt-off from other people when there was a blinding snow storm for days. Marion felt the numbing loneliness deeply and her husband James only amplified her sense of isolation. 

They were still a relatively young couple but James made her feel as if she were old, dull, and boring. He barely acknowledged Marion except when he wanted food. He hadn’t actually conversed with Marion for what felt like years. 

She observed as James lived alone in his head, always ignoring her attempts to talk. As the harsh winds and snow isolated them in the farmhouse, James isolated Marion in their marriage. 

When the blizzard ended, Marion had had enough. She peered at James one last time and left. She drove to the nearest city and caught a flight home

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

NaPoWriMo: Poem – The Cruelest Month – Ottava Rima – ” November Blows.”


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And now, for our (optional) prompt. In his poem “The Waste Land,” T.S. Eliot famously declared that “April is the cruelest month.” But is it? I’d have thought February. Today I challenge you to write a poem in which you explore what you think is the cruelest month, and why. Perhaps it’s September, because kids have to go back to school. Or January, because the holidays are over and now you’re up to your neck in snow. Or maybe it’s a month most people wouldn’t think of (like April), but which you think of because of something that’s happened in your life. Happy (or, if not happy, not-too-cruel) writing!

Please see NaPoWriMo for more information.

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Typical Darkness and Weather in Alberta in November around 5:00 pm. (www.nj.com)
 

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November, the month cruelest,

All my energy siphoned out.

Sun down 5:00 pm lest,

We let daylight openly flout,

On top of depression for jest,

I’m sure, to have winter blues pout,

I’m wishing for light to shine bright when,

Winter with snow and blizzard send.

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In November tiredness dogs me,

Worse, then other times of the year,

I plee for light so I’ll serene be,

But I’m sent into fog dreary,

Difficult doing what you need.

Each year, a darkened mood I fear.

Beauty shadowed, with winter’s snow,

Winter arriving; sad mood blows.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction: The Boss Who Froze


After a half-hour dozing in bed, Cara realized she had slept-in. She jumped into her shower then decided to style her hair into a messy bun. She slathered on face products, blended her foundation, and applied mascara. Cara was relieved a pinstripe dress and black cardigan greeted her when she opened her closet. She threw on a wool coat, warm scarf, and applied her lipstick. Cara zipped up her tall black boots and put on leather gloves.

The wind stung Cara’s face as she walked against it to her SUV, which had been warming up as she prepared for work. The storm was awful and Cara arrived at the office thankful she made it to work without incident. Only two cars were in the parking lot. She ran to the office main door and noticed a sign saying the office would be closed today. Cara wished someone had emailed her before she left home.

As Cara ran back to her car, she tripped over something solid. She glimpsed behind her only to see the frozen body of one of the founding Lawyers of the firm, Mr. Duncan. Cara screamed, arising lightening fast and getting into her SUV. She fumbled with her phone, dialing the police as tears blurred her vision.

 

Snowy Car
A Mixed Bag 2010 A Snowy Winter Day

Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF. You can join too!

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.