Day 11 – NaPoWriMo/A to Z Challenge/Writing Prompt: Poem – Bop – “Peripheral Madness” #NaPoWriMo #AtoZchallenge #poetry 


Today’s NaPoWrIMo prompt is to write a poetry form called the ” Bop, a kind of combination sonnet + song. . In the basic Bop poem, a six-line stanza introduces the problem, and is followed by a one-line refrain. The next, eight-line stanza discusses and develops the problem, and is again followed by the one-line refrain. Then, another six-line stanza resolves or concludes the problem, and is again followed by the refrain.” For the A to Z Challenge the authors name will begin with letter J from GoodRead’s quotes. Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for last week’s writing prompt and picture. 

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Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

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“I don’t think it had ever occurred to me that man’s supremacy is not primarily due to his brain, as most of the books would have one think. It is due to the brain’s capacity to make use of the information conveyed to it by a narrow band of visible light rays. His civilization, all that he had achieved or might achieve, hung upon his ability to perceive that range of vibrations from red to violet. Without that, he was lost.”  ― John Wyndham, The Day of the Triffids

————

Sight I think is amazing for what could, 

We see without vision, eyes to perceive? 

The world around us is intricate, complex, 

So our eyes make sense of the colours, shade —

Tints, tones, complementary colours, those —

In the same family, yet inside were sightless

Gazing beyond sight, gazing within, without. 

——-

It’s fascinating to think how each of —

Us sees the same thing differently; by —

Sight and experience — the image changes. 

All see such varied pictures notice where, 

The colours blur, wind; how they can deceive us. 

How red, green, purple, blue, orange and yellow, 

Mix together, painterly dragons fly. 

Optical illusions nearly missed disguised. 

Gazing beyond sight, gazing within, without. 

——-

Blended carefully the animals come —

To life; birds, unicorns, oxen, and some, 

Mythical creatures, pale faces turned down. 

See not only within the painting see —

Inside your heart, for the truth sits there, 

Ignore the blindness, learn to fathom more. 

Gazing beyond sight, gazing within, without. 

——–


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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

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Poem: Lauranelle – ” The Vivid Seductress” #amwriting #poetry


Credit: http://www.myartmagazine.com by Patricia Murciano
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———

Her smile is in her entrancing blue eyes, 

Sky of ink blue enhanced, purple, red, and pink. 

Wild child bites her ruby red lips, desires —
You, captivates you, takes you to the brink. 

Rainbow nails, smooth hair of brilliant hues too. 

Locks deep teal, sky blue, purple fuchsia inked

She’s a work of art, life sparkling through, 

Claret brows rise, she’ll admonish you; 

Leave her to pout; childlike tears will ensue. 

Life of party; her disdain ends soon,  — 

She’ll glide back, scarlet heels, winged shoes, 

Her petal skin glows in silver moon, 

No shred of innocence, pride taken, she woos. 

Lush sweet lips overcome your instinct to fight, 

She’ll take all you have and more, but to prove

She can have all she wants; life in black and white — 

Misses the intensity of multicoloured hues. 

Her life shines with saturation so bright, 

Chromacity, most vivid colours known, 

They overwhelm her form, rainbow explodes. 

Her smile is in her entrancing blue eyes, 

Wild child bites her ruby red lips, desire. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Photo Challenge: Poem – Blitz – “Returning” #amwriting #poetry 


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s photo challenge. 

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Credit: Mario Gervals

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Aurora-borealis paints the sky

Hues of light to charm

Charm the cold from old man winter’s grasp

Charm the sky hovering, colours delightful still

Still as the snow when it stops

Still as the young man in the living room

Room in a home where he’s troubled 

Room of the television — loud sports

Sports of the freezing weather

Sports loved best

Best loved is hockey

Best loved he watches, engrained 

Engrained in the screen

Engrained in the game 

Game on and he misses his wife as she drives away

Game of his wife searching for time

Time ended when she him left 

Time is new for her; he doesn’t care now

Now she moves on 

Now she is but thrilled

Thrilled, yet in a storm she drives

Thrilled to have escaped without another fight 

Fights always happen

Fights which got worse, never stopped

Stopped when she rethought her life

Stopped when she said, “I’m gone” 

Gone while the new sliver of a TV loudly plays

Gone, he knows it it, feels depressed

Depressed at the mess of his life

Depressed, slight lines etched into his face

Face with red eyes

Face with mouth stifling sobs

Sobs because she’s gone for good

Sobs because she gazed at him appalled

Appalled because he always yelled

Appalled because he’s why ‘they’re finished

Finished forever, she’s free

Finished, but she’s not safe in such a blizzarding storm

Storm outside flinging snow in his face

Storm outside, her car didn’t make it far

Far off and tired the look in her eyes

Far off but tears streaming ’cause she’s stuck 

Stuck in the bank of snow 

Stuck in her life, no escape

Escape life here, without him?

Escape yet, she’s glad, for her, he came 

Came, so she takes him back; he understands now

Came, so they return to times where they showed

Showed love, affection where no distance divides 

Now acts of love, little things, change the future

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Finish Off Friday’s Flash Fiction: Speechless


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Finish Off Friday Flash Fictions prompts:


finish-off-plant
Credit: Lorraine

women-in-red-dress-and-umbrella
Credit: http://www.paper4pc.com – Woman Dress Artwork Image #1

When Mark and Pat renovated their [home,] they discovered an old bicycle hidden under the [back deck]. 

“I wonder how long it’s been down here?” Mark said removing the bike from the remains of the deck. He washed off the grime, finding a cheery red bicycle beneath.

He was sure the bicycle would ride well once he oiled the chain and made a few repairs. He had spare bicycle parts somewhere in his garage.

When he tipped the bike over he found a small pouch hidden under the bike seat. Opening the bag, Mark removed a picture of a brilliant red head.

“Come see Pat,” Mark called to his wife. Pat came running, although, her husband was annoying her.

” It’s a photograph of modern art, Mark.The colours are vivid and the style of the woman’s dress is recent. Where did you find it?”

“In this pouch, underneath the bicycle seat. How can that be?”

Instantly, the clean red bicycle began to glimmer. A portal opened up and the bicycle disappeared into the vortex, the photograph soon to follow.

Mark and Pat were speechless.


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Tale Weaver Prompt: Poem – Wrapped Refrain – ” Fireworks Like Stars” #amwriting #poetry #newyears #taleweavers


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s Tale Weavers prompt: celebration and the New Year.

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Credit: © Mara Eastern – Used with Permission.

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Oh brilliant star once gifted, you 

Blow away all dark, you shine true.

Your colours effervescent, clear, 

Holding eternity in lights sear. 

The calm of night hidden, in sparkle with awe we live. 

Stars erupting vivid, as seen in a child’s eyes bright. 

—–

Dear child do you know, our country? 

Is not young as she was once; won —

Her liberty from England with ease. 

Didn’t as our Southern neighbours cease —

Their freedom; we grew from peaceful roots, we amplify, 

Reason in the world for one-hundred-fifty-years nigh.  

—–

So in this New Years night proudly, 

Watch the sparklers light, the crowd —

Cheering as the stars burst red, white —

And crackle in the air to delight. 

All people gathered to ring in twenty-seventeen, 

The year of Our Lord, brilliant stars gleam.

—–

We’ve more than celestial stars, 

Burning in the night milenias;

Milenias times millions more, 

Kanada, “village,” country born. 

A multiplicity of ethnicities know home,  

Glowing fireworks alight the skies, ample colour shown. 

—–

The stars are our fireworks, they 

Light all our ways home, to know, 

Such a gift we’ve been given, such —

Treasure fine: inspired and just, 

Fire in the sky ignites majestic liquid lights,  

Oh brilliant stars could we touch divinity this night? 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Photo Collage Prompt: Poem – Octaine Refrain – “The Fantastic” #poetry #amwriting #fantasy


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting last week’s collage prompt. 

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MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

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The fantastic hides and we’re unaware,

Turning to look, we might find we’re too scared. 

Adventures, colour, world with beasts daring, 

They’ll ask a question —answer with great care. 

Creatures with magic, books jammed with thoughts, stairs —

Causing absurd scenes, stairs move everywhere. 

The fantastic hides and we’re unaware. 

Turning to look, we might find we’re too scared.  

Magicians do tricks; hands, winding music blares, 

Beauty in circus apparel she stares. 

Without a body; her arms and hands fair, 

Melodic music raises our arm hairs. 

The fantastic hides and we’re unaware. 

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

The Complexities of Red #thoughts #amwriting #nonfiction


Credit: Giovanni Licea – YouTube

I considered the colour red. How I’m equally attracted and repelled by it. How I pass by a red v-neck sweater in the right shade, but mix my acrylic colours, blend them until my instincts say stop; stop sign red. No wait . . . a bright cool startling red appears on my canvas. I think this is passion and passion is the boldest red. I think of how I not only crave to paint in vivid red, but in many vivid colours and textures. How I trace the feeling of layered paints with my fingers, and hunger for other colours with my eyes – blue, green, and purple. Though I adore all these colours, my favourite paintings are all in red.
 As with my love for sexy heels, which I adore in red too. If red is passion, what more can I say about women and sensuality then red shoes. They’re expression and fierceness. Like Kelly Picklers song “Red High Heels” — “I’m about to show you just how missing me feels, in my red high heels . . .” Red for revenge, red for moving on, red for love. But I hate red for love, it’s memory is sickening. He looked good in that colour – almost the best. 

Credit: Sam Roloff – “The Big Red One”
Yet red is so many things more. It’s anger, hate, rage, hurt, demons dreaming — the beast inside who does not die. Red is sinful, delicious, and deadly. It’s sex and power; a primilness. It’s royalty and blood, red blood spilled for in the body it’s blue (hence bluebloods). I love how classic red is — nothing more classic then a cat eye and red Bridget Bardot lips. Nothing as classic as red Mustang. 

I don’t wear red, the colour outshines me and doesn’t fit with such pale skin and blond hair. Please no red dress – I’d rather blend in and be a classic black or navy dress cut perfectly. But I seek out bits of red and cling to them, not wanting red to blind me. Only some sparkle and razzle dazzle to hold in my hand. Red nail polish is beautiful, with a bit of bling  Red as some of the lights in Las Vegas and red fireworks; red stoplights. 

Red is perplexing because it’s complex, not simple at all. Red is nationalism and red is internationalism. It’s a proud Canadian colour and I don’t mind wearing it on our Nation’s Birthday. Or cheering on our Canadian hockey teams in the Olympics and junior hockey. 

As well, roses are so divine, so deadly pricking your finger. Red, passion and pain. Together swirled these colours of red, of love, and hate collide. There are many shades of grey, but even more shades of red. It’s more than a primary colour it calls as a siren, “Look see me.” No one hides in red. Red cars are often caught barely speeding and Red is a theme of many songs albums as in “Red” as T. swifts song and album and the Beatles album “Redone.” Red as “My love is like a red red rose.” Some choral song I cannot recall. 

Credit: Jeannette Mattson – “Red Rose” – Fine Art America

But I’m sitting here, music blaring trying to decide what to paint. I’ve that special shade of red and it’s mixing and melding with other colours. Shades and tones. I see, red on my canvas and it bleeds. Red blood, blood . . .life, the most prolific association. Red is blood. Blood is life. Red such as poppies, that we must always remember. Red for anger, red for hate, for war. Red to hurt, poor the droplets down a crystal glass. Red red wine. To drink away the blood and crippling thoughts. Red to forget. I like a Malbec with bite. A Zinfandel to make me chatty. A Merlot or Cav-Sav with some friends. Red sangria is delicious. Red strawberry margaritas because there’s real fire in tequila. Red is too many things, too symbolic, too self-contradictory. Red is life. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Poem: Octaine Refrain – “Many Muses or One?” #wordhighjuly #poetry #amwriting #paraluman



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http://www.theguardian.com

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Artistic muses, too many to count.

Sky, sun, earth, nature, oceans blue, galore.

World around us inspires us, she implores.

Merely, observing people in life’s fount.

Such shades of colours, glorious to use.

——–

With paint and paint brush, one cannot abuse.

There’s variety, no limited amount.

No one to say what’s art; keeping your own score.

Artistic muses, too many to count.

——-

Artistic muses, too many to count.

I’ve artistic gifts to share and give more.

People’s eyes shine, staring at colours galore.

Such muses exist? Or does one amount? 

Paraluman you’ve opened my eyes bright.

——–

Charcoal, blackening my hands, grey and white.

Sketching, shading, eraser makes light count.

Renderings of images mind adores.

Artistic muses, too many to count. 

———

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.


Poem: Italian Sonnet – “Desert and Oasis Art” #introtopoetry #amwriting #sonnet


For the last poetry 101 post the theme is the future, and to he the form of a sonnet. I’m also using The Daily Post prompt words Glass and Desert.

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http://www.calixebe.com

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Desert air burns bleeding cracked lips; so slow, 

Annoying pain, causing heat stroke quicker.

What’s in the future, dry dust, sand sifting?

Tiny grains grating in my mouth, wind blows.

Does this desert end? Sun baking skin whole?

Am I done penance, my soul much richer?

Water, oasis found; soul weeps bitter.

Are my thoughts real? Or am I dying slow?

——

Future ahead, sandstorms, I see swarming;

Into crystals of glass where artists make, 

Such beautiful creations colours forming.

Glass in flowers; blown shapes delicate made.

Where presently, I’m in need of some shade.

Torment cease; dancing, at last, rain storms! 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

  

27.How Was Last Night For You: A Stranger on an Unknown Beach


Please read Chapter 26 here.

Chapter 27. A Stranger on an Unknown Beach.

He was happy and content, floating amidst graduations of colour. He had never felt such tranquility in life.

He was awake suddenly and strolling on a picturesque beach. White sand almost burned his feet but he buried his toes down into the sand, and his feet cooled.

Gazing down at himself he saw he was only wearing swim trunks and a white T-Shirt. Sunglasses adorned his eyes and he knew it was his favourite pair of sunglasses. The sunglasses he broke some time ago he remembered. How odd they were in one piece now.

He languidly walked through the surf on the beach. Was he on vacation? He couldn’t recall. He didn’t even know what he was named. It was slipping his mind. How could he not know his own identity?

Sleep had held him in her vivid colours and luminescence for ages. His mind was foggy and he had forgotten details of his life he thought he should know.

In his mind, he kept seeing her . . . Nina. His beautiful blond haired girl smiling with pretty pink lips. He knew Nina had helped him break his curse because he loved her. He hadn’t loved anyone as much he loved her, ever.

Wait, he had been cursed? He couldn’t recall why.

But he pictured beautiful Nina in a pink bikini and grinned. He wished she was here so they could be alone and he could sip Corona and talk with her.

He’d convince her to go into one of the two cabanas where he could touch her smooth creamy skin. He’d remove the pink bikini that was the same shade of pink of the heels she worn when they first met… How had they met?

He sighed, lonely at the thought of not being able to be with Nina. He was by himself here on a fabulous beach which stretched for miles either way.

There was a cottage up some stone steps where he had been living,  but other than this cottage, and the cabanas, there were no other dwellings as far as he could see.

Fully awake and lucid (he believed), he thought of Nina. He knew had a family besides her too. Their faces were blurred images in his mind.

He recalled two rambunctious little boys laughing with him as he played with them and their construction trucks in the sand. His nephews . . .and that led him to who they looked like — Jasper his older brother. He had a younger brother too — Jordan.

She had given Jordan her soul.MHe didn’t know why she had done it or how he knew since he had been lost in colour and light then. But he could feel a darkness, a shadow when he thought of her.

Yes, she had cursed him. She had separated him from Nina. He hated her.

He knew in the end, the lake had swallowed her corpse and dying she hadn’t been darkness or light. She had been both.

So much did not make sense to him he thought struggling to think. Sitting down on a stained Adirondack chair, he leaned back, squinting into the sunlight in his sunglasses. The sun was incredibly bright. He was sweating in the heat. Could this be Mexico? The Carribean?

Not too far away from him he noticed an older man walking barefoot through the sand towards him. The man had a grey straggly beard and the man’s gate was self-assured.

How how had he not seen the man coming in the distance? He stood, a tad frightened at the thought of someone else being here where it felt he had been alone a long time.

He faced the man as he stopped at the steps and the man said: “John? Is that you? You’ve haven’t been this healthy in years. You’re well rested and I believe you’re bored of paradise.”

“I’m John?”

“Yes, you should’ve remembered your own name by now Mr. Eric. You’ve remembered Nina.” John flushed unaware the man had been privy to his inner thoughts.

“I don’t know you,” John said, his name and identity rushing back to him in torrents of thought.

“I need to see if Nina is okay. I need to check on Jordan. She did something to him. Talise or Tia, whatever or whoever she is, she put a ring on Jordan, one he can’t take off.”

“It’s an emerald with a silver band, and the emerald colour matches Talise’s eyes. Beneath the emerald her soul floats. It’s dangerous, why did she put a ring, her soul on Jordan?” John asked afraid for his brother.

“Good questions John,” the man said walking up the steps. He came up to John and shook John’s hand which John shook back without thinking.

“You have a good hand shake,” John told the man. “It doesn’t fit with the rest of you . . . You look as if you’re . . .weathered. You’ve been through tough times I think. It appears as if you live on the streets because your clothes are dirty and worn.”

“No offence, they haven’t been washed in a long time, and you need… you need a shower man.” John peered guilty at the homeless man, ashamed of what he had said.

The homeless watched him closely, his face expressionless in creases and wrinkles of acquired wisdom. Suddenly, the man smiled and let out a boisterous laugh, his deep creases becoming more pronounced.

“Yes, John. My appearance of late has been a homeless man. And if you’re offering me a shower and clean clothes, I gladly accept.” John smiled grateful the man wasn’t offended by his words.

“Come into the cottage and make yourself comfortable,” John remarked easily becoming a host. He peered in the fridge, “There’s trays of fruit and another of vegetables. Some steaks I can grill if you’re interested? There is even craft beer, AlleyKat,” John said grinning.”I don’t know how this all got here? Was it was here before I woke up?”

The homeless man only smiled at John and headed for John’s bedroom, “Where’s your closet John? Ah there.”

John followed the man to the master bedroom into a walk-in closet full of beach clothes and clothes one didn’t wear to work. “This is wonderful,” the man said, “Can I stock up for the road?”

“Of course,” John said. “I’m not sure any of this –the clothes, the cottage, and the food –even belong to me.”

The man smiled again at John, a curious light in his brown eyes.”After my shower we can sit and eat. We can talk all you want. Chill a few beer for me in the freezer will you?”

John regarded the man thoughtfully, trying to remember him.”Who are you?” John asked.

“I’m here to help” the man remarked, peaking back at John before he shut the bathroom door with a bang. John heard the sound of water streaming.

He wasn’t sure what to do. Usually, John was head strong and sure of himself. He had had to be with the curse from Talise, the sea witch who’d been his girlfriend in the past.

John felt enraged with Talise. She had  separated him from his loved ones with her cruel curse. He was afraid for both Nina and Jordan.

Perhaps, the homeless man could return John to his family, especially Nina. He would also like to know where exactly he was?

His mind made up, John decided if this homeless man was here to help him, then John should be a good host, as his mother had taught him.

After all, John was filled with so many questions he needed answering. There was much he didn’t know about current events since he died.

The old man was keeping many secrets, John was sure. Not to mention, John wondered if the man might be benevolent magic of some kind? He could use some magic now.

John set out the fruit and vegetables on a large coffee table on the patio. He got out the steaks to Barbecue (they were already in marinade) and placed six beers in the freezer.

John went back on the patio to warm the Barbeque up, and he waited for homeless man to emerge.


 

A couple of hours later, John was sitting on the patio having finished his dinner and two icy   beers. The homeless man could really put his food away and he’d had four beers as well.

“Are you hungry still? There’s extra steaks in the fridge I could bring out to Barbecue if you like? And there’s some lemon cake?”

The homeless man patted his belly, “I think I’m full now John, but thank you. By the way, you can call me Norman.” John nodded teeming with questions.

“Alright, Norman. You told me you were here to help? I thought you might be able to answer my questions such as why I’m here when I’m supposed to be dead? And who are you?” John asked.

Norman peered at John curiously. “You don’t know then? You haven’t figured it out? You’re not dead John. You’re in-between life and death, between the spaces between spaces so to speak.” John was even more confused.

“So, is the beach and cottage like purgatory? Where’s my body at if it’s not dead?”

“Your body is here and you’re not in purgatory. You’re not Catholic John, you’re Anglican,” laughed Norman.

“As for me, I’m here to help you and Nina. It’s my job, helping certain people in difficult situations. I know you want to go home, but there are some things we need to discuss first.”

“Rianne would know who I am,” Norman said.” She went to buy Chinese food and Talise’s bewitched boyfriend Malcolm, knocked her head against the wall and Rianne passed out. Which, is the reason Nina was alone when Talise kidnapped and bewitched her.” Norman explained.

“I woke Rianne up and made sure she was okay, so she could go back to Nina’s condo and call Jasper who called Jordan, to come help you and Nina.”

“They decided to bring your sailboat out at night, even though it’s impossible to see in the dark. It was windy at least. I helped them find you and they would have never seen you if I hadn’t been there.” Norman said.

“How could you help them on the Sirene at night?” John wondered and Norman smiled secretively.

“I whispered in Jordan’s ear as he sailed the boat. My form isn’t always a homeless man or a human. Sometimes I’m an extra push in someone’s mind to get them moving. Or a whisper their ear such as I was with Jordan.”

“You’re magic?” John asked, trying to understand Norman.

“Magic is as sufficient a word as any.”

“So what are you? A wizard?” John questioned and Norman laughed again.

“I’m here to help and I’m on your side,” Norman said.

John realized Norman was providing him with the only explanation he would receive. John changed his line of questioning. “I’m worried about Nina and my family. How long have I been gone?”

Norman appeared to be thinking. “You’ve been gone four-months now, nearly more. Nina she doesn’t give up hope. She convinced your family to hold the funeral off for months. She believes in her heart you’re out there somewhere. She’s right you’re here.”

“I need to get back to her. Has my family had my funeral?”

“You’re funeral is tomorrow, Saturday. Nina doesn’t think your dead, she’s only attending out of respect for your family.”

“Your nephews, Sam and Eric, don’t know you’re gone yet. You should probably get back there soon if you don’t want to break too many hearts more then you already have.” Norman said thoughtfully.

“Ok how?”

“In time,” Norman said giving John another secretive smile. His brown eyes glimmered with knowledge. “You wanted to know about Jordan and the ring Talise put on him with her soul inside?”

“Yes, absolutely. How do I help Jordan get rid of the ring?” John asked desperate.

“You can’t help Jordan, John.” Norman replied. “The ring and Talise’s soul is Jordan’s path to travel down. Just as you’ve have your pathway and responsibility regarding Nina, now Talise is Jordan’s responsibility.”

“But why?” John argued, “Isn’t Talise dead and gone. She’s evil! Just because she did the right thing by me and Nina in the end, doesn’t mean she isn’t still malovelent, does it?”

“Her soul was still in Jordan’s ring last time I checked. Talise chose Jordan. In the end, she saw something in him, she never saw in you. It was something like what she found in Ethan. But closer to what you and Nina had in each other when you first met.” Norman explained.

“She’s not gone?” John said afraid.

“No John. But Talise isn’t a sea witch anymore. A mermaid yes, but with no magical abilities. She gave them up. Talise is redeemable.”

“Are you kidding me?” John yelled.

“Don’t worry about it. You can advise your brother with her but Talise is his problem in the end. Let it go.” John was incensed but a feeling of calm washed over him as he regarded Norman. How did Norman do that?

“Why do you want to go home John. Beyond your family and being with Nina, why do you think you should be alive?”

John gasped. “I didn’t expect that question. I . . . It’s not fair. Curses are supposed to work out if you break them. They shouldn’t end in death. Talise cursed me, she told me I would have to sacrifice myself for the woman I loved, and I did.”

Norman nodded, urging John to continue. “Nina helped me, she loves me.Together we broke my curse so terrible events would stop occurring around me each day.”

” I should get to be with Nina, raise a family with her, be with my parents and brothers, and grow my business. If I die, it’s not fair. The curse was a lie because spells which are broken end happily,” John argued vehemently.

Norman peered at John from his seat around the patio table, the sun was beginning to set.”That’s not real life John, you know that. What you believe is some Disney fairytale and real life isn’t Disney believe me, I know. Do you think there would be homeless men in a world where everything was fair?” John starred at Norman confused.

“It’s not about life being fair. Or curses having a happy result.”

John stared at his hands at loss for words. “What’s life about then?” He asked feeling angry and betrayed.

“I’m glad you asked,” Norman said, brown eyes gleaming.

Please Read Chapter 28 here.


 

©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.