Fiction, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Sunday Photo Fiction:  The Ducking Chair #amwriting #Flashfiction


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

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A Mixed Bag

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“More old buildings,” Emily complained.”Kill me know, who cares? You’re throwing shade on my life.” 

“Emily,” her mother warned, “I’ve had it up to here with your behaviour on our vacation. You’re sixteen-years-old and this is probably one of the last vacations you’ll take with your family, so suck it up. At least for Trudy.”

Trudy grinned at Emily adoringly. She loved her big sister. 

“Greetings visitors,” A man dressed from the sixteen-hundreds approached the family.” How dost thou like our village?” 

“I hate it,” cried Emily. “If I had superpowers, I’d burn it down.” 

“Art thou a witch?” The man asked Emily.

“More like a b#%*h,” her mom said. “Sorry that just popped out.” 

“Worry not,” said the man winking at Emily’s Mom, “We have ways of dealing with either. We call it a ducking chair. If you survive being drowned girl, than we will know you’re not a witch.” 

“What?” Emily shrieked as two me grabbed her from behind. Taking down the chair they fastened her in to it. The man whispered to Emily’s mother who only grinned. 

“Have thou anything to say?” the man asked. “Before we drown thee?” 

“I hate you, I hate you all.” Then the chair was dunked in the water. 

Emily was scared. It had been a couple of minutes and her lungs were bursting, when the chair was pulled up out if the water.

“Has thou anything to say now?” Asked the man. 

“No nothing,” she screamed, choking up water.

“Very well,” said the man shaking his head. The chair started to move into the water, but she shrieked.

“Okay. I give up. I’m sorry I don’t mean to make this vacation so miserable. I just want to be with my friends this summer. And I hate all the historical stuff we’re seeing, it’s all the same after a while. I don’t mean to be a b$&@h but I have a boyfriend I haven’t seen in four-weeks, and I’m missing all the summer fun my friends are having. I’m afraid my friend Ruth, will seduce my boyfriend.” 

“Ah so the truth comes out. Very well. Thou can go free, but respect thou mother as God himself said.” The man said.

Emily was unbuckled from the chair and soaking wet ran to hug her Mom and Trudy. “I’m so sorry,” she said again.

Overtop of Emily’s head, Emily’s mother smiled her thanks to the actor working in the village. He nodded and grinned.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Beauty, Free Verse, May Day Prompts, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Maydays: Poem – Free Verse – ” Your Wrinkles Make You Beautiful” #Maydays



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Thank you to K.L. Caley from new2writing for hosting #Maydays prompts. Today’s prompt is beauty, something or someone beautiful. I’m reposting a poem I wrote for my Great-Godmother. She is a special person to me and doing well past her mid-nineties in age.

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http://www.pinterest.com

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There is beauty in your wrinkles, 

A deep timely beauty, that took experience to make.

You are more than classic; you are infinitely lovely and gorgeouse.

No twenty-two year old in all her youthful vigor is so pretty, 

That she can have more knowledge than your reflective eyes.

Or more inspiration then your smiles give, 

More thoughts racing through her mind, of a life both hard and incredible.

Your beauty is eternal, a flame that won’t die out.

You shall carry it to heaven with you because you loved a child in a manger and your faith made your life well.

You are more exotic and enchanting then any woman in the land; 

You are the light of home to many. 

When your presence fades there shall be a void felt by all those who loved your luminescence;

 A beauty which was internal and spread to your warm skin.

A beauty that inhabits everyone of your loved ones and friends. 

You are simply marvellous, a dame that no one can compare with.

You had husbands, boyfriends, and partners with which you shared your life and your beauty with delight. 

You out-lived them all with your smile and a bounce in your step.

Your wrinkles are truly beautiful because they tell your story.

A story growing up on a farm, a story of loss, a house in the city, a story of love, and fond memories. 

And through it all shone your pretty face. 

Those bright eyes and your laughing mouth; your wonderful hugs, good wishes —

And your many roles throughout your life. 

Beauty lies in everything those roles made you; you were unstoppable.

 In your stylish shoes and upbeat attitude.

You are lovely, and will always be to me a Grandma, a Great-Godmother, and a friend.

Such wisdom you hold, your wisdom you cooked into pies, soups, trifles, lasagna;

Your hospitality made you beautiful.

You are the rarest rose in the garden;

 Loved by so many and so many you have met. 

This is why I say your wrinkles make you beautiful, 

For you are incredible, a gem in a pile of fakes.

A fantastic woman and every year as you age your beauty is much deeper.

Your wrinkles make you beautiful.

Let no one say otherwise —

 For one day I want wrinkles too, 

For I wish to be beautiful as you.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Fiction, Flash Fiction, May Day Prompts, My Thoughts, Religion/Morality, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Maydays: Fiction- Remorseless #Maydays



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Thanks to K.L. Caley for hosting #Maydays. Today’s prompt is something evil.

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Brittany Evans was a seasoned District Attorney. She had slaved many hours convicting Jay Brighten of a slew of connected murders. Today, the last victim Vicky Bernhardt would receive justice.

Brighten had viciously killed and dismembered the corpses of young women all over the US. Having finally been caught three-years ago, he was still not remorseful.

As Brittany faced him on the witness stand, his chilling gaze made her want to run.The hollowness of Brighten’s black gaze made Brittany feel as she had every time he was on the witness stand; as if she were staring into the pits of Hell.

“Mr. Brighten,” Brittany said quivering inside, “Did you or did you not kill Vicky  Bernhardt, stabbing her an excessive amount of times?”

“Yes, I killed her. I stabbed her seventy-six times to be exact.” Brighten said matter-of-factly.

Brittany was taken aback as usual. Brighten was always frighteningly honest with his answers to her questions. “You were counting how many times you stabbed Vicky?”

“Yes, I counted every single time I stabbed Vicky. I counted for every woman I killed.”

“Why did you stab Vicky and stab all those women, many times?”

Brighten appeared bored as he regarded Brittany.”They were sluts. I don’t care about whores. If they wanted to remain alive they should have made better life choices. Vicky was another whore who needed killing.”

“You believe Vicky needed killing, Mr. Brighten?” Britanny asked scared of what she would hear. Whatever his answer, his words always chilled her to the bone.

“Of course she needed killing. Vicky deserved it. Every one of those sluts I stabbed deserved it. They’re adulterous whores breaking the Ten Commandments. I was doing what had to be done. It’s what God would’ve wanted.”

Brighten sighed as if Britanny was wasting his time. He felt no remorse for his actions it was clear.

“Why did you dismember the dead women? Vicky most significantly?” Brittany asked firmly.

“Same reason. Whores don’t deserve proper burial. Their bodies are already desecrated, so I cut them up like the animals they were.”

The entire courtroom seemed to gasp appalled. Brittany, a trained attorney, felt sick. But then, facing Brighten on the witness stand as she had done numerous times, always made her stomach knot.

“Vicky and those other women you killed weren’t ladies of the night, they weren’t working the streets looking to have sex with men for money Mr. Brighten. Vicky was a university student with a high GPA. She played Tennis. Her boyfriends name was Tom. By all accounts, she was a faithful girlfriend. In fact, all the women you’ve killed have been young professionals or university students with full and happy lives. They were faithful to their partners. What do to say now, Mr. Brighten?”

Brighten had the audacity to roll his eyes. The Judge frowned at him darkly.

“They weren’t married to their boyfriends. They were sluts.That’s why Vicky was a whore and all the rest of those women.”

Brittany couldn’t believe what she was hearing again. Brighten always gave the same horrifying answers.

“Those were real relationships. Many of the girls you killed were engaged. They weren’t sleeping around with multiple partners. They were faithful to their one boyfriend or fiance. They weren’t trading sex for accommodations, food, or clothing. Vicky and every single woman you killed had a job and many were working towards a better one attending school. I don’t understand? Why were Vicky and all these women whores as you say?”

Brighten laughed. “You don’t get it because you’re one.”

“Excuse me?” Brittany said angrily. The Judge called for order in the court.

“They weren’t married,” Brighten emphasized each word. “They’re whores because they were not married to their boyfriends. They didn’t stay virgins until marriage.”

“I’ve read about you and your long-term boyfriend.” Brighten added. “Been together ten-years. You’re a whore. I should’ve killed you too. I should have been less discriminating and killed every woman I could. At least the virgins would go to heaven.”

Brittany was shocked. Her courtroom facade had gone pale. Quickly, she collected herself staring in Brighten’s demonic eyes. She felt as if they were eating her soul, each time she heard him answer a question.

“You’ve been found guilty of sixteen young women’s death for first degree murder along with several other crimes. You pleaded guilty for all of them. You pled guilty to murdering Vicky, the last woman you killed before the police arrested you.” Britanny said with hidden rage in her voice.

“Don’t you care you broke the Ten Commandment: ‘Thou Shall Not Kill?’ Don’t you think when they kill you on death row, God isn’t going to be there on the other side welcoming you to heaven for killing innocent women such as Vicky because you too broke a commandment? By your logic it’s what follows.”

Brighten laughed and laughed. “None of those women are innocent. God will be pleased with me, even though I broke a commandment.”

“So you’re allowed a pass but Vicky and the other women weren’t?”

Brighten smirked not answering the question.

“Answer the question Mr. Brighten,”the Judge ordered.

Brighten laughed maniacally and Brittany felt as if she was going to throw up.

—–

It was years later, but Brighten’s laugh still haunted Brittany’s nightmares. Her dreams terrified her even as she watched Jay Brighten’s execution.

He never showed any remorse or any guilt. Such as many death row prisoners had, Brighten had no religious epiphanies. Brighten still believed he had every right to kill all those women ten-years later when he was finally executed.

Was he going to be shocked after he died.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Fiction, Flash Fiction, May Day Prompts, My Thoughts, Relationship, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Maydays: Blank Space #Maydays



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Thanks to K.L. Caley of new2writing for the writing prompt spaces

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———

” Cause I’ve got a blank space baby, and I’ll write your name . . .”  Taylor Swift played on the radio as Dianne sat at the bar scoping out the possibilities for a good date.

Baldy was cute but not her type. The handsome guy in the tailored suit was probably devoted to his work; he made her shudder. But the guy in jeans and a t-shirt with green eyes was attractive. He seemed more the type of man Dianne was seeking. 

‘Green eyes’ caught her eye across the room and she smiled invitingly. Fifteen minutes later, he made his move to approach her at the table, giving her a freshly poured glass of red wine to drink. It was a nice gesture. Dianne was pleased.

“Hey, how are you?You look beautiful, too beautiful to be sitting here alone. I’m Trent, nice to meet you.” 

Dianne shook Trent’s rough hand with her delicate manicured one. She left her hand lingering in his for a few moments, peeking at him while fluttering her eyelashes. 

“Nice to meet you Trent,” she said, “I’m Dianne, how’s the football game?” Trent grinned. 

“Oh it’s good. Montreal is winning. They’re my team, so I’m happy.”

“Oh, I’m a Saskatchewan fan myself. Grew up that way.” Dianne commented.

“Saskatchewan, huh? Seems like they have fans across Canada. But they stole Edmonton’s coach. I didn’t like that move. It wasn’t a classy thing to do.” 

“Oh, yeah. It was a bad situation…” Dianne didn’t know much about football but she talked with Trent for awhile, nonetheless. 

He appeared to be a nice guy and conversation flowed easily between them after they left the topic of football behind.

Yes, Trent was the kind of guy Dianne craved right now. Solid, stable, a skilled tradesmen. Not a corporate CFO forever working.

“So, can I have your number?” Trent asked Dianne an hour later.

 She smiled stunningly at him.”Actually, I was wondering if you would like to come over for dinner Thursday?” 

“Um, I’m actually busy that night. How about another day this week?”

 Dianne sighed giving Trent ‘Bambi eyes,’ “I’ve got space Thursday, otherwise . . .” 

“Maybe, I can make Thursday work. Let me see . . .” Trent said anxiously scrolling through his calendar on his cell. 

“Oh sorry, Thursday is Evette’s night,” he said shaking his head at Dianne regretfully.

Dianne was sure she was more beautiful than Trent’s Evette. She pouted, “It has to be Thursday.”

“Why?” 

“Well,” Dianne said. “My husbands out of town.” If Trent could be honest about his girlfriend Evette. She could be honest about being married.

“What are you kidding me?” he said alarmed. “I don’t cheat.” 

“Who’s Evette then?” Dianne asked perplexed.

Trent shook his head, disappointed in Dianne.”Evette’s my niece and she’s four-years-old. It’s too bad you’re a cheater. I feel sorry for your husband. ” 

Dianne was shocked. Men never turned her down despite the fact she was married; she was gorgeous. 

But that didn’t make her husband Richard pay attention to her. Dianne knew he had an affair occurring with his personal assistant Joy.

She sighed in agitation. Thursday was a blank space, or perhaps; Dianne could find another guy to keep her from being lonely that night. 

Her eyes roamed the crowded bar and found her next target.

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Relationship, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Three Line Tales, Writing

3Line Tales: Quiet, Imagination, and the Spaces Inbetween Silence.


  Thanks to Sonya from 100 Words or Less for hosting Three Line Tales.

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Moritz Schmidt
 

——

 1. Some people abhor quiet and others they adore it, I would say I’m often in the latter group but not all the time; we all have this need to be sociable creatures to some extent, whether it’s to meet new clients and network; gab with our girlfriends or see the boys for a game; or simply sit in a coffee shop and absorb the hum of conversation occurring around us.

2. I have this love for quiet (or silence you might call it) because they’re special ideas and transfigurations of your imagination hiding within it; some people can feed their creativity in the loud and garish noises of a crowd of people yelling and hollering to a person near to them; but the best place for some of us to elaborate on ideas and call fourth the muses of our imagination is in the silence where we write brilliant stories, paint paintings, and daydream of our future creations.

3. Sometimes it’s not the quiet or silence which is meaningful, but the spaces inbetween the quiet, because in those hidden molecules lives a powerful and significant understanding between two people; it is love in it’s magnificence which exists within the silences of husbands and wives, partners, girlfriends and boyfriends, children and their parents, grandparents and grandchildren, friends, and people and their pets; this space within silence is a secret place two people who love each other exceptionally, coexist together without uttering a single word, while both comprehending each other deeply even within each other’s souls.

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

My Thoughts, Poetry, Prose Poetry, Writing

Poem: ” Your Wrinkles Make you Beautiful.”


There is beauty in the wrinkles on your face.

A deep timely beauty, that took experience to make.

You are more than classic, you are infinitely lovely and gorgeouse.

No twenty-two year old in all her youthful vigor is so pretty, that she can have more knowledge then your reflective eyes.

Or more inspiration then your smiles give; and more thoughts going through her mind, of a life both hard and incredible.

Your beauty is eternal, a flame that won’t die out.

You shall carry it to heaven with you because you loved a child in a manger and your faith made your life well.

You are more exotic and enchanting then any women in the land, you are the light of home to many. 

When your presence fades there shall be a void felt by all those who loved your gorgeousness, a beauty which was internal and spread to your warm skin.

A beauty that inhabits everyone of your loved ones and friends. 

You are simply marvellous, a dame that no one can compare too.

You had husbands and boyfriends, partners with which you shared your life and your beauty with delight. 

You out-lived them all with your smile and a bounce in your step.

Your wrinkles are truly beautiful because they tell your story.

A story growing up on a farm, a story of loss, a house in the city, a story of love and fond memories. 

And through it all shone your pretty face. Those bright eyes and your laughing mouth. Your wonderful hugs and good wishes. 

You had many roles throughout your life. 

Beauty lies in everything those roles made you, you were unstoppable. In your stylish shoes and upbeat attitude.

You are lovely, and will always be to me a Grandma, Great Godmother, and friend; such wisdom you hold.

Your wisdom you cooked into pies, soups, trifles, lasagna; your hospitality made you beautiful.

You are the rarest rose in the garden. Loved by so many and so many you met. 

This is why I say your wrinkles make you beautiful for you are incredible, a gem in a pile of fakes.

A fantastic women and every year as you age your beauty is so much deeper.

Your wrinkles make you beautiful, let no one say otherwise — for one day I want wrinkles too, for I wish to be beautiful. 

——-

To my Great Grandma/Godmother Evelyn. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved. 

My Thoughts, Writing

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.