#NovemberNotes Day 24/ Sunday Photo Fiction: Poetry – Free Verse – “Faith and Writing” #amwriting #poetry #flashfiction


For November Notes Day 24 the prompt song is “Like the Wind” by Triosence and Sara Gazarek. I’m combining the prompt with Sunday a Photo Fiction held by Alistair Forbes.

I know it’s more than a month since November Notes ended but I only have six prompts left (this one included) and then I can move on to other things and a more regular blogging schedule in regards to prompts.


Credit: Jules Paige


Like the Wind” by Triosence Ft. Sara Gazarek


Writing is like the wind,

Spiralling chimes into motion,

It uplifts the tired soul;

As the wind, inspiration can be touched,

It’s ethereal, invisible;

Yet, you sense it as it flies through you — around you;

You can’t say it doesn’t exist as like many things —

It’s a matter of faith;

Supported by first, seemingly tenuous strings that many attempt to ignore —

To dissuade you from;

But although they maybe tenuous, these slender strings are mighty,

Their stout pillars support belief in your God given abilities.

Somehow, talent and imagination swirl and form into the plausible, the possible —

When you close your eyes and write.

Imagination is full of wonder, beauty, joy, and love of creativity flowing —

Winding, spinning as wind chimes sing a chorus.

Faith is the core of everything —

It’s love of God and belief that He guides us,

The symphony director composing, omniscient;

That such as each instrument and voice,

We all have a purpose.

And when our pens and tablets call us,

It doesn’t matter what it’s called;

Just that we know and trust what is greater than us —

The unseen — both in the art of writing and in the vast celestial.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

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100 Word Wednesday: The Cost #amwriting #flashfiction #crime #100WordWednesday


Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting #100WordWednesday.

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Credit: Toa Heftiba

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I’m seventeen and I wish I wasn’t old enough to understand what was happening through the trees.

There were five men laughing around a garbage can bonfire. The worst part was the two women crying and begging the men to stop as each man took turns with the women, raping them.

I knew I couldn’t intervene. I felt helpless but then I remembered my smartphone in my pocket. It had a camera with many megapixels and zoom.

Above the pandemonium no one heard me snap as many pictures as I could. I walked back to my house from the ravine and I called the police; they said I was a hero after.

The problem is some things in life you can’t unsee.

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Tale Weavers: Crossing the Veil #amwriting #taleweavers #fiction


Thanks to Michael from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s prompt: A tale which takes place beyond the veiled mist. 

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Credit: Adventures In The Wild

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Kyria had been warned since she was a small child, beyond the veil was dangerous. Her older siblings had told her monsters lived there, that there were witches waiting to eat a young child. 

What the adults said wasn’t much better. Her Grandma Iris said she’d lose her soul if she was caught in the veil beyond. She talked about shape shifters and immortal creatures of the dark such as vampires and werewolves.

One day hanging the laundry on the line at her grandmothers, Kyria gazed at the veil nearby. She hadn’t thought of it for a long time and she wasn’t sure why it called to her now. She’d never admit she could hear the whispers of the creatures which lived their. They were tempting her and she knew it.

 Did everyone in the village see the veil as she did? Kyria believed they had no idea where it physically was, that to them it was was only folklore for children and not a real thing; it was extremely real to Kyria and she knew for her grandmother as well. 

Kyria was twenty-four and long past the age of adulthood. Her parents lived together and her siblings with their families. She hadn’t found a suitable man to marry so her father decided she should move in with her ailing Grandmother and care for her. He thought she needed to be of use somewhere since she hadn’t married quickly as her sisters did. 

The more Kyria thought about the veil and the mist shrouding it, the more she thought about how she’d never put herself out there in life. She’d always done what she was told and when others failed she was the one who took their place, who filled in so everything went smoothly. 

It was how she made up for her so-called “selfishness,” still being single and not having children for her family and village. She wondered why she had never pushed her boundaries and was tired of being ruled by her father’s and her grandmother’s whims.

Kyria loved her Grandma Iris the most because she understood Kyria better than anyone. But her grandma still cautioned her to never cross the veil daily. But grandma was inside sleeping and Kyria heard the whispers from veil more and more these days. They were a sirens call to her. 

She ignored all she had been told by her grandma, her family, and her friends as a child. She decided today she would cross the shrouded veil into the other world. Dropping the laundry Kyria walked towards the veil and into the mist surrounding it. The veil shimmered as she came closer and sonorous voice could be heard singing on the other side. 

When she reached the line where the spiritual and natural worlds met Kyria stopped for a moment and stood. She smiled and with both hands raised in front of her she was able to feel the mystical energy she was about to pass through. 

She stepped into the shimmering fog and breathed deeply. Her long blond hair flew out behind her and it was the last thing her grandmother saw as she watched her granddaughter cross into the other world. 

Grandma Iris sighed in frustration but she knew as it had been with her, the veil had been too much of a temptation for Kyria. She knew that adventure and discovery awaited her sheltered granddaughter. As it had been with Iris, the veil and it’s magic was in Kyria’s blood. Grandma Iris was the only one besides Kyria who actually could see the veil, she had made herself guardian of the gateway and hoped Kyria would take over for her one day. 

But as the last of Kyria’s blond hair slipped through veil and disappeared, Iris couldn’t help being thrilled for her granddaughter. What awaited Kyria would shape and change her. It would motivate and hurt her, it would be an experience far beyond the scope anyone in the village would ever experience. 

Iris blew a kiss towards the veil and whispered a blessing for Kyria. The feelings of excitement in Iris were so intense it was as if it were fifty-years-ago and she herself was crossing the veil. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Finish Off Fridays: The Summons #amwriting #flashfiction 


Thanks to Lorraine from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting FOF. 

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Credit: Lorraine

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“I had never been summoned to Number 208 [by the park] before; I nervously adjusted my coat . . .” A person could book a pick-up online or by phoning into FedEx but you couldn’t summon a particular delivery person, could you? 

“April, it means what I said,” Becky from the warehouse told me on the phone, “I’m not being rude, the lady who lives there wanted you, specifically, at her home.” 

The door was open when I arrived. “I’m here,” a frail female voice rasped. 

Walking into the house I heard the respirations of a woman on a ventilator. She was all hollows and sallow skin. Her hair was whispy white and thinning. Eyes the color of blue-bells greeted me but they were bloodshot. 

The woman grasped a yellow envelope with a trembling hand. She shook the envelope and a key dropped out. 

Her shaking fingers held it out, “For me?” I asked. 

I took the key staring at it in confusion; it appeared ancient. As I examined it I heard the woman gasp something. I moved closer to her and held her hand attempting to hear her strained voice. She shook her head with a ragged sigh and breathed her last.

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Sunday Photo Fiction: An Evil Chalice #amwriting #fiction #flashfiction 


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

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A Mixed Bag

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Timo and Erica had been stranded in the desert when their small plane crashed near Cairo. Sunburnt, exhausted, and thirsty, they were shocked to see an Oasis. 

“An Oasis Timo, we’re saved. There’s water and even a chalice to drink from,” Erica yelled. 

“You’re seeing things Erica, there’s no water and no chalice.” 

Really look, it’s only a few steps away — we’re here,” Erica said rushing forward to drink from a beautiful pale blue spring; however, whenever she tried to cup the spring water with her hands, it slide away. 

“It won’t let me drink and I’m half-dead,” she cried. 

Timo rubbed his eyes, finally believing the blue spring underneath a palm tree existed. A chalice made with a human skull sat in the middle of a stone alter as well. It gave him a feeling of dread. 

“Erica, to drink the water you need the chalice but don’t do it. There’s something terrifying and evil about this cup.” 

She turned to Timo, giving him a dark stare, “I’ll drink from the chalice if I want.” Erica strode to the alter, bowed mockingly and lifted the chalice to kiss the skull on the mouth.

Timo grimaced as she scooped it into the water and drank. It was an Indiana Jones’ movie come to life as Erica’s life force was sucked from her body which disintegrated until she was dust. 

He decide to try drinking from the spring without the chalice. Timo drank all the water he could then sat down beneath the large palm tree in the shade. He wondered why cupping his hands worked for him and not for poor Erica as he drifted asleep.

When he awoke, Timo heard the blessed noise of rescuers in the distance and hollered for help. To his amazement the Oasis had disappeared along with the chalice. 

He contemplated what he should say happened to Erica as no one would believe the truth. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

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. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner:  “Cheater, cheater . . .Oh Baby.” #amwriting #fiction


Thanks to Roger Shipp for hosting FFftPP.

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http://www.pixebay.com

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” You never do anything halfway,” Lorna complained. “I used to think how wonderful it was that you were so committed to your research. Then, I realized you were so focused on it, everything and everyone else in your life became second place.” 

“That’s not true,” Kostos said. “I always took you out to various events I had to attend. I spent Sunday’s with you and our boys whenever I could. I’m positive we went on family vacations.”

Lorna sighed. “You don’t get it Kostos. You gave your family scraps, not the main focus of your attention.”

“I was discovering new ways to cure cancer. It’s a vital job and it takes a huge effort directing those technicians and researchers working under me, and securing more funding and grants. There were speeches to be made and proposals to be filled out. What’s more significant than curing cancer?” 

Lorna didn’t know how to maker her husband of thirty-years understand her anymore. She gazed past Kostos to her stunning blue pet parrot. Her friend of many years, Oliver. She wished it was only her and Oliver now.

“Don’t make me out to be the bad guy Kostos. I never kept you from your work. I supported you, accompanying you to all your events. I watched you spend time with strangers, more than you did your own kids.”

“What I don’t understand is where you were inbetween, when you weren’t at work, at meetings, home, or even at the gym. So many times I called to talk to you, to meet up with you as we used to do. But in the last ten-years, most every time I called, Jane would tell me you were out.” Lorna remarked.

“What are you accusing me of?” 

There was silence but for Oliver who drew himself up and squawked,  “Cheater, cheater. Oh baby, oh Simone. Cheater, cheater. If only I’d married you Simone. Cheater, cheater.” 

Lorna stared at Kostos, eyes wide, ” You brought Simone, your colleague here? To our home?”

“No, I wouldn’t cheat . . .”

“Cheater, cheater. Leaving Lorna for Simone. Cheater, cheater.” Oliver parroted.

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Exhaustion my Enemy – Poetry


The heavy breath from my chest, the half cast eyes with droopy lids.
The dark circles beneath eyes that only ache for rest;
This is called exhaustion.
The sallow cheeks and dizziness, the world takes on my glazed expression.
And though I fight to stay awake, my aching orbs cannot manage the pain.
Lift them once, until at last they fall;
This is called exhaustion
Laboured air, and bones laid thickly to the bed.
A stillness in the room, the might that could be slumbers.
And though I’ll try to arise;
This is called exhaustion.
Waking up in mid morning, tossing, turning, without warning.
A heavy crash of lid to lid, the fluidity of blinking gone.
When waves of sleepiness flutter through you;
This is called exhaustion.
A limb I cannot lift. No leg, no arm, no neck.
An effort just to to breath deeply and relax, to calm the nerves the day has wrought.
A simple pleading just to fall asleep;
This is called exhaustion.

A mother wakes, she cannot sink, into the depth of dreamland.
A baby cries, he wants something now, the mother weeps.
This is called exhaustion.
A days labour never done, shovel by shovel, he digs that ditch.
His muscles smell of rubbing gel, the kind that relieves body aches.
Hurting just to sit down;
This is called exhaustion.
The mind thinks wonders until it stops, a headache starts and bangs until eyes close,
A momentary lapse, there’s still a day to go;
This is called exhaustion.
Lying awake, all night long, slumber cries for me to not deprive
And though I beg, in agony, swift and long lasting.
I’ll stay awake the whole night through;
This is called exhaustion.
An old man stands at deaths great door, he knows it’s coming.
He hears it’s call in every painful breath, in every cramping of his heart
As he strives to live, he wishes greener pastures would call;
This is called exhaustion.

A population begging for replete, a rest, a sleep, to wake up fully functioning.
There all so quiet as they moan and beg for dreams to tumble on them all
A slumber so deep, you’ll only awake when the aching tiredness is gone,
This is called Exhaustion.