Fiction: Morning Runs and Bad Memories #amwriting #fiction


Another piece from my class with edits.


Credit: Zac Ong via Unsplash


He’s hot. Go join him.” Jacklyn filled Yasmin’s coffee.

“Sam’s weird. He keeps perfect running pace behind me at the park. Even worse, he comes in here for coffee.”

Yasmin pulled her sleeves over her hands. “He makes me skittish.”

“Talk to him.”

“I’m scared to, I think.” Yasmin adjusted her ponytail as Sam ambled to the front counter. He paid for one of Jacklyn’s gourmet Cinnamon buns. He caught Yasmin’s eye and winked.

Jacklyn’s eyebrows raised. “He was ogling you. That’s why he’s been running behind you. Oh, and he’s always had his morning coffee here.”

Yasmin peered at Sam. He smirked, inclining his head. “What’s so good about him?”

Jacklyn winked. “He tells me he loves my buns.”

Yasmin smirked. “Oh, yeah? He rubs ‘me’ the wrong way.”

“You’re thinking about him rubbing you?”

Yasmin rolled her eyes.

Jacklyn sighed. “Sam doesn’t have a creepy bone in his body, and he’s intriguing and well built; you have to admit that. It must be those long runs chasing you.”

“He asked Robbie about you. Sam sees you every day and thought you’d be more comfortable with him by now.” Jacklyn prodded.

Yasmin squeezed her fists tight, her breath rapid.

Jacklyn kneeled. “What’s wrong? Sam’s not trying to hurt you. Why does he make you so anxious?” She clasped Yasmine’s hand. “Robbie said that sometimes women have a good reason for reacting how you do. He’s a retired cop.”

Yasmin froze. Fractions of memories flashed through her mind. “There was someone. I didn’t expect it; he came from behind.”

“Do you mean?” Yasmin nodded, and Jacklyn wiped at a tear. “I’m sorry. Have you talked to anyone?”

“I have, and I’m okay. Robbie’s right. Sam’s brings back bad memories.” Yasmin chewed her bottom lip. The tang of blood made her halt. “I was walking home when the other guy attacked. Sam looks nothing like him. But, he makes me nervous, both in a good and bad way.”

“Maybe, you should chat with Sam? If only to see he’s harmless? Robbie says he wants to get to know you. He knows Sam because they play Rugby league together, and ge’d kill him twice if he hurt you.” Jacklyn squeezed Yasmine’s hands. She moseyed behind the front counter to help a harried barista.

Yasmin stood and stretched, she tossed her ponytail. Sam’s glinting eyes remained glued to hers. She sat across from him.

“Hi, I’m Yasmin.” She quivered and her pulse soared.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

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Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Exclusive Dirt #flashfiction #amwriting 


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW. 

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Credit: @Shivamt25

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Allison arrived at the local coffee shop for her morning tea. Her duchshund, Peppy, trotted beside her. His ears stood alert as he waited for his morning treat. The coffee shop was also an independant tea shop. There were black teas, fruit teas, herbal teas, white teas, green teas, and all kinds of delicious tea blends. 

When Allison asked the barista for a mango green tea, Trisha sighed. “Sorry, Allison. We’ve had to cut back on teas we serve. We only serve three unique kinds each day. Too much competition with David’s Tea.” 

“Okay, what should I try?” 

“How about the pineapple, squash, and blueberry fruit tea.” 

“Not a fan of that mix, Trisha.” 

“How about chocolate and marshmallow with asparagus?”

Allison closed her eyes for a moment. “Any Irish Breakfast tea with a twist of lemon? Or green tea with papaya?” 

Trisha shook her head. “No, our tea selections are three exclusive flavors each day.” 

Allison rubbed her eyes. “I’ll have a medium latte.” 

“You don’t drink lattes,” 

“Today I do.” 

Trisha bent to give Peppy his treat. While Allison sat down, reading the paper and sipping her latte. 

Then she felt as if she was going to throw up, spitting a mouthful of latte into her napkin. 

Even the lattes had become exclusive. This one tasted like dirt. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Tale Weaver: Poem – Bop – “I’ve Enough” #poetry #taleweaver #dVerse #amwriting 


Thanks to Michael of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Tale Weavers #176. The Prompt is what it is we want in life. Also, thanks to Bodhirose of #dVerse Poet’s Pub for hosting open link night. 

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Google Free Image

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All the things I want, do I really need? 

Do I need more shirts, more heels, is that greed? 

If I made my sum of money wanted, 

Would it ever be enough? Life’s haunting  —

Me to spend more cash, not to save some more;

Could having more money make you poorer? 

All I want, need, matters not — I’ve enough. 

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If I was perfectly healthy, I would lose, 

Freedom over some of, my time; I’d choose —

A job with variety, nice colleagues, laughing, 

Not working casually from home alone, aghast —

At how much harder it is with details, 

How precision is difficult, I rail —

Not often, but when I’m tired, frustrated, 

When my short term memory is flustered. 

All I want, need, matters not — I’ve enough. 

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Yet I’m able to focus on writing —

My dream; building my talent’s exciting

I’m able to write, home or a coffee shop, 

Or to binge watch Netflix when I’m feeling, 

Energyless and downcast, mind reeling. 

Wishing I had my blessings and wasn’t ill, 

I desire my full health, yet I’m fulfilled. 

All I want, need, matters not –I’ve enough. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Sunday Prompt: NonFiction – Bad Days Mean Good Days Ahead #amwriting #nonfiction 


Thanks to Oloriel of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s Sunday Prompt. This week we are to share the happiest moment in our life, or the saddest moment and how we overcame it. 

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Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie
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I’m not going to share my saddest or my happiest moment. I think these moments  constantly shift. But I will tell you about yesterday, for me it was a day where I felt hopeless. I’m a goal-oriented person and when I’m not feeling well enough to complete even the tiniest goal on my to do list, I feel lost and useless.

The background to this is as some of you know, is that I deal with depression that has caused what my psychiatrist has diagnosed as Chronic of Severe Fatigue. I’ve had it for years, I’ve always known.

Most doctors don’t even recognize CFS or ME as a disorder although there is information about people suffering from it hundreds of years ago and presently everywhere. As well a good friend of mine also has CFS/ME but hers while sharing some similarities, is a bit different from mine — she is able to work.

I’ve been homebound lately feeling extra fatigued and also because my insurance company ended my disability in November –I’ve lost a great deal of my income for the moment. When I’m so fatigued there are days it’s too much to take a bus.

Sometimes I have no choice but to take a cabl. Some days I wake up greatly worn out even after sleeping all night. The kind of tiredness CFS or ME produces is beyond sleepy –it’s mental and physical exhaustion. So when you can’t afford a cab and only the bus, it makes a person feel trapped when the ride their is tiring. 

At times when I’m home too long, I feel lonely and bored. I enjoy being out with friends and family or being able to visit a coffee shop, the mall, the art gallery (etc.), to be around people. The CFS doesn’t allow me to work (go to an office etc). as I never know how I will feel each day. On the flip side, I also need to be home a great deal to recharge. When I go out it’s not for more than a few hours, it’s what my body can handle.

Some days I can’t concentrate well on reading. Some days I can’t concentrate on writing. Other days I can’t do anything but watch the TV or programs on Netflix and after a while, even the stimulation from that bothers me. One or two days a week I feel well and get quite a bit done, only to exhaust myself for the following day.

Yesterday I felt awful even though I had it in me to do a short yoga video and a few simple chores that needed done, then I was physically and mentally worn out and frustrated. I was bothered that I have to stretch a small income so far and that I couldn’t take the cab a short way to this local coffee and book shop or to the mall to look around and have some Edo for lunch. 

I’ve also been dealing with weight issues due to a medication. I can’t switch medications, these ones work the best, but as a person who was a chubby child it bothers me I can’t keep my promise to myself to always stay fit. Each diet I try doesn’t work. I need intense cardiovascular exercise but beyond a bit of walking when I’m well I don’t have the energy for it. So yesterday, that too felt overwhelming. 

As well I’ve been freelancing and realized starting out, even to only make a a few extra hundred dollars a month is difficult. It’s like any career, something you have to learn from and build upon overtime.

But today I woke up and my outlook on the world had changed. I prayed last night and I realized this morning, I’m doing fine. I have a warm place to live with nutritious food and for the most part, I can buy what I need each month and do a few things with friends. My friends are also extremely understanding of what I experience and that along with my family’s understanding is a blessing as well. 

I’m hoping on ‘good days’ I can learn to endure the bus, to get out of the house more often because being around people makes me happy, even if I’m only an observer on certain occasions. 

I don’t feel lost today. I stopped focusing on ‘me’ and ‘my problems’ and recognized even though I think I have it bad certain days, others are experiencing much worse problems around the world.

I also realized starting something such as a part-time freelance career (even a limited number of hours a week) after not being able to work after nine-years at all, will take time, more than a few months effort and additional learning.

Most vitally I realized God has me and my problems in the palm of His hand and He is taking care of me even when I feel stuck in life. He says even when I’m still and not doing much at all, it’s enough. Yesterday was a bad day but sometimes you need bad days so you know how to be thankful for good days. Do you agree? 

The LORD will fight for you; you need only to be still.” – Exodus 14:14

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction: The Secret Ingredient #amwriting #flashfiction


Thank you to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF. Feel free to join us! 

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A Mixed Bag

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There were two labourers Jim and Mario, who were assigned to dig ditches for new highways, in the sweltering heat of the August sun. 

Near by, was a coffee shop which served a different kind of pie each day. The coffee shop was known for having the most delicious pie in the city because it contained a secret ingredient no one could identify.

One day, the two labourers went into the coffee shop at lunch. There was only one slice of pie left and it was the favourite kind of pie of both men: melt in your mouth peach pie.

When Jim tried to order the pie, Mario interrupted him with lies:” Can I please have the last piece of peach pie? It would brighten up my wretched day. My back is out and my wife lost her job.”

The coffee shop owner, Laura, was about to let Mario have the piece of pie when Jim interrupted with his own fake story: “Mario’s wife is a nurse and can easily find a new job. I have student loans to pay and a wife who recently lost our baby. I would feel more cheerful about my situation if you’d let me buy the pie.”

Laura didn’t know what to do until Jim and Mario started pushing each other. She had had enough of their lying, their pushing, and their shoving.

 ” Here’s what we are going to do,” Laura said to the men,” I will make peach pie on Monday and I will set aside a large piece of pie for each of you on the house.”

Neither Jim or Mario were entirely happy with the situation.”So what happens with today’s piece of pie?” Jim asked.

Laura smiled at both men and removed her apron. She grabbed a Perrier and the piece of pie and asked a girl to replace her on the cash register.

“Today, I get to eat the last piece. I bake it, I’m the manager, and peach is my favourite kind of pie.” Laura said with finality. 

Despite Jim and Mario both receiving a giant free piece of peach pie on Monday, they both swore there was something missing from the pie they ate.

Deciding to further teach both men a lesson, Laura left out the secret ingredient she used in all her pies — and no one but Laura knows what that secret ingredient is.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

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
 

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 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.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.