Fiction, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Tale Weavers Fiction/Poetry, Writing, Writing Challenges

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. 

Fairy Tale Themed, Fiction, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Tale Weavers Fiction/Poetry, Writing, Writing Challenges

Tale Weavers: #Fiction – Teegan’s Potion Part 1: Tallia, Her Magic Shop, and The Stranger


Thanks to  MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s Tale Weaver prompt:

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MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

 

Tallia heard the chime as the door to her small magic shop opened. She was usually alerted to a customer’s presence ahead of time. She could feel them before they chose to come inside her store and browse. She could especially feel them when they came to her shop with a purpose.

She brushed back her hair, dyed a light purple-hue of grey as was fashionable. Although, she wasn’t much older than her mid-twenties, her business did well. There was always a a demand for certain products she sold. Her Aunt Willow had run this shop for years before her untimely death.

Tallia had kept the name of the shop: Fairy Dust. She had, however, remodeled the shop Aunt Willow had left her to run. She made the shop modern and inviting, but retained its sense of the mystical. She loved her Aunt, but she also loved that the shop was no longer a hole in the wall.


 

Tallia’s store at first glance, catered to those who were browsing for small treasures or jewelry. Knickknack items which were more magic themed souvenirs or memorabilia, than actual magic.

But hidden among the knickknacks were items which could be powerful if used correctly. The items in the restricted section in the back of the store were more powerful than the ones placed out in the open.

The magical items placed here and there upfront were for decor purposes and to let certain customers know what kind of shop Fairy Dust truly was. Only her regulars were allowed in the back with permission.They knew exactly what they were searching for and how dangerous certain magical ingredients and objects could be.


 

A man called out to Tallia in the shop after she let him browse around for ten-minutes; she waited to see what the man wanted. The fact she had not felt him coming alarmed her.

“Hello is anyone there?” the man asked.

Tallie smiled at the man. He had bright green eyes and dark hair. He was quite attractive, she thought. Then a shadow was caste over her mind. The man appeared harmless enough, but she knew there was some kind of darkness in him.

She held onto the cross hanging from her throat for a moment. It was a protective piece of jewelry and it also confirmed her feelings there was something odd about this man being here. The darkness followed him around and it unnerved Tallia who was starting to experience a headache.

“I’m sorry sir, I’ve had such a busy morning and I need to take a lunch break and go pick up some food. Is there anyway you could come back after lunch?” Tallia attempted to look as if she was faint from hunger.

The man sighed.”I really need your help. It’s not something that can wait.”

“I’m so sorry,” Tallia replied, coming out from behind her cash register.” I need to leave. I can’t wait for food. My blood sugar is too low,” she lied.

The man appeared exasperated. “Alright, I’ll be back in an hour and a half. He handed Tallia his business card. “You will be back right?”

“Of course, Teegan,” she said peering at his business card, “One needs to make a living, don’t they?”

Teegan Foster smiled at this and left out the front door. Tallia could feel the shadow lessening quickly as he walked away from her shop. She decided she would indeed close the store for today.

She hoped this might encourage him to visit another magic shop in the city, where they were more experienced dealing with darker magic. She didn’t want to deal with whatever Teegan Foster’s problem was, unless she had no other choice.

Tallia wrote a quick sign saying she had become ill and would be closed for the rest of the day. She wrote the number of another magic shop on the sign which was close by, for an customers needing emergency supplies. She tapped the sign on the shop’s front door.


 

The following day Tallia returned to work refreshed. Some of her regulars had come to the store this morning. She chatted with them as she helped them find correct items for spells and potions.

She swapped stories with them and they laughed at the happenings in each other’s lives. Many of them had known Tallia since she was as a small girl at the shop; her Aunt had raised her.

Sometime later, Tallia’s head started to throb. She clutched the cross around her neck, feeling the dark shadow around a certain someone drawing closer.

Her regulars had left long ago. She was all alone as she sat down on a stool behind the counter. A green-eyed and sharply dressed Teegan Foster came in the door and stopped abruptly in front of Tallia had the cash register. She instantly felt his darkness clouding her mind and making her dizzy.

“Are you feeling better?” Teegan asked her.

Tallia nodded.”I’m fine, I’ll be fine,” she murmured.

Teegan frowned, “I’m sorry, you don’t look well. That’s my fault, here.” She saw him whisper something and the shadow faded and her pain lessened.

“What, what can I help you with Mr. Foster?” Tallia asked, her voice unsteady.

“It’s just Teegan, Tallia. I need a particular potion. Your Aunt Willow was the only one who could make it for me, and her mother before her. I’m positive you know how to make the potion too. She must have mentioned me at sometime; I’m a long time customer.”

“You don’t look so old?”

“I’m older than I appear, much older. But you might not understand such magic yet.”

He came closer to her and stroked her cheek gently.”It’s okay Tallia. The potion I get here, it takes the darkness away for a long time. The pain you feel, the potion will ensure it doesn’t come from me again ever.”

Tallia nodded mutely. When Teegan, touched her, she felt a jolt which was beyond magic. She was attracted to him, more than she would like to admit. But she didn’t trust him.

Instead of looking at Teegan, she stepped away and brought out her Aunt’s old tome from a small room behind the front counter. It was a volume full of customers, spells, and potions from the past two centuries.

Tallia eventually found a page for Teegan, explaining everything she had to do to make his potion. It wasn’t a difficult potion to make and the ingredients seemed normal, she noticed with surprise.

She wondered why Teegan needed it so badly. She also saw the writing of the spell was neither her Aunt’s or her Great-Aunt’s writing. It was a script she had never noticed in this tome before. A woman with skilled and flowing handwriting had first written down this potions recipe.


 

“It will be an hour or so,” Tallia told Teegan. ” I’m sorry, you’ll be waiting so long. You could’ve called the store and I would’ve made it early this morning.”

“Um, I think you would’ve refused me. You would’ve went home again. Am I right Tallia?”

She flushed. “I wasn’t well, Teegan. Honestly.”

“Sure you weren’t,” he said. His smile was dazzling and he had dimples.

“I’ll wait here for the potion. You’ve a comfortable waiting area in the front there. I can sit and read the news on my phone.”

Tallia peered at her modern but cozy waiting are in front of the store’s large window,” Suite yourself, do you want something to drink?”

“A coffee please, with some milk,” Teegan said.

“One moment,” Tallia replied, feeling uneasy about him.

Although he seemed nice, she wondered what happened if Teegan didn’t receive his potion. What could be worse than the shadow surrounding him? She also wondered how old he really was?  Was this potion what kept him from aging? She shook her head at the thought. It wasn’t possible, was it?

Magic often surprised Tallia but not trusting Teegan, she put a bit of sleeping drought and blended it with his milk and coffee. She might require more time than an hour to make this potion.

She wanted to call another magic shop she knew had been around for far longer than she wanted to know. Her Aunt’s store had been relatively a new magic shop, despite it being in the family for generations.

Tallia felt the owner of the ancient store The Black Coven, a man a much older than herself named Jude, might have records what this potion her Aunt made for Teegan actually did. Surely, someone else of his kind had used it as well.

She served Teegan his coffee and he caught her blue-eyes and held them. She felt herself flush. He drank about half the coffee and set in down. He smiled at Tallia, thanking her and meeting her eyes again.

She went to the back of the store to start gathering ingredients. When Tallia came back out front fifteen-minutes later, Teegan was fast asleep. She sighed, trying to calm the hammering of her chest. She felt a bit guilty. Ignoring her guilt, she went to call Jude, hoping he would enlighten her on Teegan’s mysterious potion.


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Haiku - 7,7,5, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, OctPoWriMo, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

#OctPoWriMo – Day 30/31 – Senryu – “Eternity for Real” #amwriting #poetry #religion #christianity #faith


Day 31 Prompt: Eternal

“When I think of eternal, I think there isn’t much that is eternal, at least not on this earth. When I wrote this prompt, I believe I was thinking how even though OctPoWriMo is coming to an end, our words are forever – what we wrote during this month and beyond. What does eternal mean to you?” 
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“Truly, truly, I say to you, he who hears My word, and believes Him who sent Me, has eternal life, and does not come into judgment, but has passed out of death into life.” –John 5:24

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http://www.pinterest.com
 

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Time on earth is done, 
When my body is only, 
An Empty vessel. 

——–

Then shall eternity —

Begin; time will not matter. 

For all those gone on. 

——

Time on earth, linear, 

Comprehend forever, 

It’s hard imagining.

——-

What forever is, 

What it looks like and feels like, 

Who the maker is? 

—–

Death is frightening, 

Even in sleep, will it hurt? 

Where does our soul go? 

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This is why I think, 

Believing in God is wise, 

We can worry less.

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Perhaps worry not —

At all; because we know what —

The otherside will bring.

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Many say we’re wrong, 

There’s no heaven, there’s no hell.

I learned fear of God.

—–

Not that we should be —

Afraid of benevolent —

King; but his word speaks. 

—–

Gives us hope for life, 

Eternal in Jesus dying for —

Everything done wrong.

——

We’re not perfect and —

We never will be, we can’t 

Keep the Ten Commandments. 

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Fulfilling God’s law, 

Impossible to achieve, 

So he sent Jesus.

——

He hung on a cross, 

Cruxifician painful, bled. 

He died went to Hell.

——

Defeated devil, 

Defeated death and the grave, 

So with him remain.

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When our death comes there —

Is no sting, because those who —

Have faith, believe — live.

—–

That is eternity, 

Heaven with God, better than —

Our wildest dreams. 

——

Forgiveness of sin, 

Becoming perfect beings, 

Paradise for real. 

——-

Thank you for following me for #OctPoWriMo. Sorry, I’m behind on my usual prompts! I will catch up and am following a new themed daily prompt for November. Stay tuned 🙂 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016)All Rights Reserved.

Fiction, Flash Fiction, Movie Reviews, My Thoughts, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner: The Headless Horseman Returns #amwriting #flashfiction


Thanks to Roger Shipp for hosting FFftPP.

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The sky was black and the woods silent. Even the stars seemed not to glimmer. 

Rev. Jones was sweating hidden in the bushes. He could feel the shudders of fear coursing through his body. He held onto the cross at his throat. 

Swish. Right near Rev. Jones head, an axe swung. Rev. Jones didn’t bother to look and see who was trying to behead him, he knew and he ran for the covered bridge, stark terror overcoming him as he tried to surpass the headless horseman.

It was to no avail, the horseman in his armour popped down from the top of the covered bridge as it ended. He twisted his axe, showing off, letting Rev. Jones know, there was no way to escape him.

Rev. Jones screamed as the axe hit his throat and his head was lopped off his body, eyes blinking a few moments afterward.

The headless horseman picked up Rev. Jones’ head and placed it in his bag. His mistress had three more heads for him to collect that night, and so he would.

—–

Ichabod Crane stared at the headless body at the front of the covered bridge.It was really dark last night, (the stone mason who had found the body said). But he was sure this bridge was the place of the murder. Ichabod had done all the appropriate medical tests, and figured out Rev. Jones the Vicor, had been beheaded around 1:00 am last night.

It was no surprise, prominent members of the community were dropping like flies. But Ichabod wondered as he had before when this nightmare last occurred, who was controlling the headless horseman now? 

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Based off of one my all time favourite movies Sleepy Hollow with Johnny Depp and Christina Ricci.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Event, May Day Prompts, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

MayDays: Nonfiction – A Visit From Cooper #Maydays


img_1203


Thanks to K.L. Caley from new2writing for hosting #Maydays prompts. Today’s prompt is man’s bestfriend. We’re to write about dogs.


Nikki
Nikki

I found it quite funny, dogs were today’s #Maydays topic. I love dogs and if you have followed me for a while you know I had a dog named Nikki who passed away about two-years-ago. She was a Miniature American-Eskimo – Terrier Cross with a  great deal of personality. Nikki was a pack dog and loved her family but was not so friendly around strangers.

It’s funny with pets, you never realize what an impact and presence they are in your life until they pass away. Nikki became ill and in about three-months she was gone. She is my favourite dog ever and lived about twelve-years. She loved to run, I think running so far was hard on her body as well as some other problems, we never were able to find out.

But today was an excellent day to have this prompt because my brother J visited with his room mate’s dog Cooper. Cooper is one of those fluffy dogs with hair that needs trimming  often. Unlike Nikki, Cooper doesn’t lose his hair. And there’s something to be said for that.

Apparently, Cooper doesn’t give kisses but he gave me a few; he must have been feeling generous. It is hilarious when you hear how people sound when they talk to a dog. Their voice pitch goes high and they talk cutesy. Dogs such as Cooper, love it when your voice does this, they get excited because they hear high-pitched sounds as something good; I read that somewhere.

Down in the basement, Cooper visited my Mom and I came down and we played “go-go” or “zoomies” as Jodi from Life Inbetween calls them with her dog Charlie. We were trying to wear Cooper out and we did. Eventually, he went home with my brother. J sent me a photo of Cooper lying on the couch, not moving a muscle. He texted me: ” [Cooper] hasn’t moved since getting home.”

I don’t know who was more excited by Cooper’s visit, my family and I, or Cooper. But I think my Mom is coming around about not having another dog and would be in favour of getting a small dog such as Cooper. I’m crossing my fingers.


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

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

Story Continuation Prompt: Flash Fiction – Judged


Thanks to Wandering Soul for hosting this prompt challenge. This week’s challenge is up to a 500 word piece of writing with the beginning sentence: “The delicious aroma of the freshly baked croissants wafted through the near-empty café.”

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The delicious aroma of the freshly baked croissants wafted through the near-empty Cafe. It was Sunday morning around 9:00 am and the majority of people weren’t up this early. Many church services did not begin until 10:00 or 10:30 am. Giselle thought about her home church while eating a buttery croissant and drinking a cappuccino.

She hadn’t been to church in a while. It wasn’t because she stopped believing in God or his son Jesus. It didn’t mean she didn’t have a few Christian friends or that she didn’t miss some of the people she grew up with in church.

Other issues were at work in Giselle’s life and a place which had always felt peaceful and inviting to her, became a place full of judgement. There was no forgiveness to be found in her old church and Giselle felt heavy hearted. People she had fondly thought of as Aunties and Uncles growing up, now gazed upon her with severe disapproval. 

Giselle believed it was God’s right alone to judge a person’s sins. Other Christians in her life could guide her and warn her of where her actions might lead, but she didn’t deserve hatred from them, to be the subject of gossip. Her best friend Ivy especially, had turned on Giselle.

Giselle had read a meme on the internet that read: “Thou Shall Not Judge Because Thou Has F$&#%d Up Too.” It was pertinent. When Giselle admitted to Ivy she had been attacked and raped by a stranger in an alley one night, Ivy had given her a stunned stare. 

“Are you sure?” Ivy had asked, then later told her parents and other church members Ivy ran into. Giselle had told Ivy she was pregnant with the rapist’s child. Rumours and gossip spread. Ivy, her family, and many other church members thought Giselle was having an abortion when she was admitted into hospital. 

The reality was Giselle’s pregnancy had failed; the tiny baby growing within Giselle had died. A doctor informed Giselle there had been complications. She could never have a child again. 

An elderly man at church had told Giselle, “You sew what you reap,” when he had heard the gossip Ivy had spread about Giselle having an abortion.

Giselle was suffering inside and some of her best friends were ‘outing her.’ The only people who knew and believed the truth were Giselle’s family and they were judged harshly for supporting Giselle.

She attended her home church for the last time that Sunday, enduring cat-like behaviour from the women and men who told her she should be ashamed. Shouldn’t they be helping her and ‘lifting her up?’ Did they no longer care about her? 

Giselle thought it ironic her church wondered why Christains were not attending church. Couldn’t they see, the world had become a kinder place than their church? That Jesus’ light was brighter out among strangers? People Giselle had known and trusted all her life had become like ‘a den of vipers.’

Looking up one last time at the cross and steeple of the church Giselle had called home, she left her church for good; Giselle had hope she would find a kinder church someday.

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Note: There are great Christian churches with kind and understanding people attending them. They are good neighbours who through God, help people like Giselle heal. This story is fictional and hopefully, a worst case scenario.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Beauty, Daily Prompt, Free Verse, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Poem: Free Verse – ” Silver and Gold “


http://www.studio.e-picasa.com

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You can say it in as many ways, 

As it comes to your mind, 

You can try to convince me otherwise,

But I have drawn a line.

Cross the line, I’ll tell you how it goes,

My answer, you’ll probably hate.

But scars run deep, criss-crossing,

Battle wounds which don’t completely heal.

You only see a slight raised line,

White and long —

 But I feel the pain of the wound.

I remember how the scar came to be,

I know how I screamed inside,

Trying to be brave, 

As the cut ran red with blood,

Gore and trauma, degradation.

A scar such as this doesn’t merely heal,

It can reappear and open-up,

A wound that flares with blood-red drops.

Underneath the skin is pink marble,

And  you can see how deep it went,

Layers pealed back as I cried with pain.

It’s my scar on my body;

Apart of me for life.

A mark that lives on my skin and —

I have curves, I will not lie.

But my curves aren’t perfect creamy white,

 Scars and nicks lie here and everywhere.

Disfigurement remaining there, 

I’m imperfect and I’m flawed.

Don’t you know strength was born from such scars?

Curves are real and they reflect,

A body blessed with shape and allure.

But what I want you to notice,

When my skin is bare,

The scars angry red, left there.

For those scars are what will always be,

They are me, and I am them.

If you can accept them,

You can love me too, 

For on my body they are silver and gold,

Worth what I’ve been through.

—–

Thanks to The Daily Post for the word prompts Scar and Curve.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.


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

Story Continuation Prompt: Fiction – Adventures with Dogs


Thanks to Wandering Soul for hosting the story continuation prompt. This week’s first sentence is: “The new morning brought with it new hope.”


Dog American Eskimo
http://www.pexels.com

The new morning brought with it new hope. Yesterday had been a horrible day and I didn’t want today to be a repeat. I had taken the day off as work had been particularly stressful.

Also, I had been dog sitting for my brothers and my parents who had all decided to go to various vacation destinations at the same time. I was ready to relax and unwind with the dogs, when my friend popped over with her three giant lab dogs.

Janice hadn’t had time to take her labs to doggy daycare in the morning as she usually did on Thursdays, before work. She felt Luna, Izzy, and Geo needed to be around other dogs at least a couple of days in the week, in addition to their walks. Luna, Izzy, and Geo joined Crumpet, Lola, and Cleo for some socialization on my day off.

I was happy all six dogs were girls.There was a pecking order, Cleo and Lola, leading the pack, but all the dogs got along famously and enjoyed playing and following each other around in the house.

Cleo and Lola were miniature American-Eskimo cross breeds and pack dogs by nature. Crumpet was a chihuahua and yappy as chihuahua’s tended to be. Luna, Izzy, and Geo were all various mixes of labs, friendly and boisterous.

I dreaded taking all six dogs to the park for a walk as I wasn’t sure how to manage six dogs of various sizes and temperaments, all on leashes. I was hoping to let them run around on the off leash trails as much as possible. But even maintaining control of the girls on the off leash trails would be a challenge as I would have to ensure they did not scare or surround other dogs and their owners.

Lunch time came, and I set off on a walk with all six dogs. Leashes tangled and the girls sniffed around and jumped at each other on the way to the off leash trails. We narrowly avoided several people on bicycles. The American Eskimo crosses, in particular, didn’t like the cyclists and the noise they made. They were even more upset by the rollerbladers who whipped by us.

While Cleo and Lola tugged madly on their leashes I attempted to pull them in. The labs on the other hand, loved running along with Janice on her husband as they biked, so they in turn, pulled their leashes towards the cyclists happy to greet them.

Finally we reached the off leash trails and the dogs were set free to play. The chased each other through trees, wood chipped trail, and bushes. We passed other people walking their dogs and I was surprised how good all the dogs were, even Cleo and Lola who could be nippy and have attitudes at times. All the dogs greeted the new human and dog friends they met on the trails, and more dogs were added to the mixture of breeds running wild.

Crumpet, my parent’s chihuahua mix, decided she had had enough walking and jumped up into my arms. I had no idea how I was going to carry her with the five others dogs pulling on their leashes when we were ready to go home. The dogs and I walked down the trail a good hour and then turned around.

I was tired near the end of our walk. It was a great deal of effort to keep tabs on six dogs and the dogs’ energy levels were still going strong. I was hoping a long walk would tire them out. The girls were constantly running back and forth to me, checking to see that I was coming along and jumping at me at random moments wanting me to play or to give me a kiss. Cleo and Lola who knew me better, kept checking back incase I decided to throw a milkbone treat their way.

As we walked, we came to the shores of the river near my house. A small delta of land went out here, and couple of other dogs were swimming in the shallow waters. I shouted, “No. Stay here,” to all the dogs but they ignored me. I expected Luna, Izzy, and Geo to not hear me as they had never had to listen to me before. But Cleo and Lola knew better. So did Crumpet.

They tiny Chihuahua mix leaped into the muddy water and began to paddle around. I groaned. All these dogs were going to need baths later and this wasn’t how I wanted to spend my Thursday off, bathing filthy dogs. I knew for a fact Cleo, Lola, and Crumpet would never accept being bathed by a hose and they would fight me every inch as I washed them.

After a time, I called all the dogs out of the river water. They came crashing towards me. Luckily, I had been wearing workout clothes, for I was as wet and dirty as the dogs once they were done greeting me.

Something was wrong though, Crumpet hadn’t come in from the river. I saw her standing on a tiny piece of land surrounded by water and yipping at me. She was afraid to come out. I sighed and made a face knowing I would have to go in the river and bring Crumpet out.

Wading into the shallow water, I carefully walked out from the delta and grabbed Crumpet off of her lonely island. She was overjoyed to see me and dripped water over my face and neck. Even my hair was dirty now.

Crumpted nuzzled into my neck and sighed. When I was back on land, I managed to leash up the five other dogs who had been patiently waiting for me oddly enough.

I don’t know how, but dripping wet and dirty, we all made it back to my house and I unleashed all the dogs in my fenced backyard. I won’t mention how difficult it was to clean up after each dog after they had done their business during the walk.

In the garage, I had a kiddy pool purchased for my small niece when she had visited in the summer. I filled up the pool with water from the garden house. Going inside the house, I shed my clothes at the door along with my mucky shoes, and went downstairs to the bathroom to grab a big bottle of shampoo. I changed into an old t-shirt and pair of shorts and grabbed old towels from from the closet upstairs.

A couple of the labs, Izzy and Luna, were already in the swimming pool when I came outside, so I began washing them first. Apparently, they were used to being bathed liked this and after the first two labs were done, I grabbed Crumpet from where she slept, under a tree and forced her to have a bath as well. Taking ice cream buckets full of garden hose water, I rinsed off the dogs and dried them in turn. I dumped out the kiddy pool and filled it again with clean water.

Geo the third lab, was happy to have a bath as her lab siblings had enjoyed. She was easy to shampoo, rinse off, and dry. Cleo and Lola watched me suspiciously as I came to get them.  I yelled, “Come here!” Their ears went back as they knew they were in trouble and they tried to stealthily avoid me. But Cleo was nearest and only thirty-pounds, it was easy enough to carry her into the pool a short distance away.

Keeping Cleo in the pool, was a problem. She struggled in earnest to escape, even when she was slathered in shampoo. She was tough to clean as she had long fur and when she was done, we both were covered in water. I let Cleo go after drying her off. It was Lola’s turn next and she yelped when I picked her up from the corner of the yard she’d been hiding in. The process of cleaning Lola was similar to how it went with her cousin Cleo.

I was worn out from walking and bathing six filthy dogs. But I gazed out into the grassy backyard and saw how tired the dogs were too. They lay stretched out in the grass sleeping or circling, trying to find a good position to settle down in in a sunbeam. I collapsed into a lawn chair and slept.

The next thing I knew Janice was standing before me. “Trish? Are you awake?” I was startled. I smiled at Janice sleepily.

“Yeah. I was tired. Sorry I must have dozed off.” I told Janice what the girls and I did today. She laughed.

“You didn’t have to take all the dogs for a long walk. I was going to take the labs myself when I got home. How did you manage with six dogs?”I told Janice the story and she laughed at my struggles with the dogs.

Janice thanked me profoundly and took Izzy, Luna, and Geo home. Cleo, Lola, and Crumpet .wandered up to me and we all went in the house. Dinner was served for the dogs and at the end, treats were given for enduring their baths.

In the end, I was able to have the long hot shower, I’d been dreaming about since the dogs jumped on me after being in the river. I took my time and was finally, able to relax.


©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

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

Echoes of My Neighbourhood: Dogs of Our Lives 


In the home I lived in growing up, we always had a dog. The first dog was Spunky, a Chihuahua-Terrier Cross, who lived until she was seventeen-years-old. She was mostly blind by that time but she managed and we picked her up to take her down the stairs. When Spunky was younger, she would sneak out our front gate. She was tiny enough she would try to slither through the gap between the gate doors. Then my Mom would say, “where’s Spunky?” And we would search the neighbourhood for her. She liked to wander and could easily have been picked up and taken by anyone because she was so friendly and unassuming. 

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Spunky
 
 
Spunky
 
 
Spunky

When Spunky died we didn’t have a dog for two or three years. But we did get visits from some of the neighbour’s dogs. My one brother was followed home by a dog we called ‘Hugo,’ when he was biking. Later, it turned out the dog belonged to a lady who my Mom ended up working with in Student Accounts.
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Hugo and My Brothers
 
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Sorry that photo is facing the wrong way, I don’t know how to fix that on WordPress. After a few years, we started looking for a new dog. We wanted a dog bigger then Spunky, one who was medium sized. But it is hard finding the perfect dog for your family. I think my family has a thing for runts. Spunky was a runt and so was her successor, Nikki. My Dad drove us all to the neighbourhood pet shop Grrrranimals, when I was seventeen. He showed us Nikki, a faun coloured northern dog who was getting picked on by her fluffier white brothers. Nikki was an American Eskimo – Terrier cross but she had the personality of an Eskimo dog. Unlike Spunky who wandered off, Nikki stayed in the yard, or in the area of the yard most of the time. She always knew how to find her way home, even when my family moved houses. She loved to run with my Dad and she snuggled with me. We took an embarrassing amount of pictures of Nikki. I guess she had such a personality we couldn’t help but adore her.

 

Nikki
 
 
Nikki
 
 
Nikki
 
 
Nikki
 
 
Nikki
 
Aw, I’m sorry the pictures are all sideways. If anyone knows how I can fix this on WordPress please let me know. This last picture of Nikki is my favourite. She loved that giant stick and whittled it down to a thin stick with her aggressive chewing. Thanks for stopping by!

Thanks to Jacqueline of A Cooking Pot and Twisted Tales for hosting Echoes of My Neighbourhood.

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

Event, My Thoughts, Poetry, Writing

Poem: Hallowed Faith 


How do you let your children out, while spirits whirl the earth; the forlorne dead they swirl out and surround your younglings softly.

Do their cute costumes scare the vapour away, while they beg for candy? Or, do the undead reach out for them because they know vulnerability.

I pray that if the door creaks extra loud in your dark basement you won’t think ill of all dejected presences. For where there is bad, there is always good and good is always stronger.

Don’t fear for the little ones on the streets, or in the shopping malls; pray and provide for the little ones who have had nothing to eat and can’t afford clothing (never mind, a costume.)

In the dark cementaries, the dead abide, but I think the soft murmers you hear are stirrings of your heart, for loved ones lost, holes inside you that will live while you do.

Though evil and horror exists, it’s found surface in people — the terrible demons in history. Look at the cross, don’t let evil win, and forget about the spirits dreaming. 

Your happy loved ones who had faith, they went to heaven and their timeless paradise; they feel no pain, they are not moaning for you. They know you’ll come home soon — to them your life is seconds. 

So, while spirits may tremble at the evil that walks, it’s because he is real but he hasn’t a shot, at your dear ones who have learned their prayers, and know what is right. 

Children laugh at the figments of imagination that inspire a hallowed time of year; where candies mean more then the wandering spirits; and scary movies are fun, if you know there not real. 

And while the zombies assemble, you watch the Simpson’s Halloween 2015. And your son or daughter will have M&M’s and Kitkats and you’ll take all their Reese’s Pieces –because they could have peanut allergies, you say.