Sunday Photo Fiction: A Gory Death Becomes #amwriting #fiction #SPF


Thanks to Susan for hosting SPF.


Credit: C.E.Ayer


Dust rose thick in the air, and the August sun scorched. The foreman and his workmen dripped sweat, and Natasha Roberts supervised her redesign.

The home’s white-washed stucco matched an aqua-tiled and white kitchen with ice-blue tones carrying into the great room. Glints of multi-colored metal, and a 1920’s inspired bar created a unique entertaining space.

The master-bedroom’s giant windows combined with simplified Art-Decl luxury. In contrast, original barn-doors with glass panes to the balcony, matched the ones downstairs that opened to an outdoor living space.

Natasha admired her creation; she was excited to make the house stylish, and to skim extra profit unbeknown to her clients.

The foreman yelled to her and she scoffed. “I’m coming.” What a hick.

She turned in red stilettos, her ruby dress swirling with its bell-sleeves. She teetered, and her heel caught on the sand-stone patio. Natasha screeched and her body lunged; her ankle and heel snapped. She crushed into white-washed walls, raven hair fanning as she fell.

The foreman witnessed Natasha’s death. He swore as her blood gushed, and crossed himself when he perceived she had no pulse.

Years later, he dreamed of Natasha’s mouth in a daily spitting-rage towards his skilled-workers. He remembered her scream as her ankle twisted at the same awkward angle as her neck. Nightmares haunted him; he believed Natasha deserved her gory end.


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

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Three Line Tales: Fiction – The Runner #amwriting #fiction


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales.


Credit: Fabio Mangione via Unsplash


I blink awake to the lapping water as its tune resonates splashed against my skin, and when I gulp my protein shake; I breathe in liquid air and run. On the street-way cannel, the slide and slip of the tide is music, a rhythm I hum; I inhale the salt air as my sweat drips in the morning. I’m rounding the corner, acknowledging neighbors revving the engines of their boats for the cafes or market; I dive off the farthest dock and swim home — my morning training complete.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#NaPoWriMo Day 1/ Saturday Mix: Poem – Quadrille – “Chaste-less Addiction” #poetry #amwriting


Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt: Today, we challenge you to write a poem that is based on a secret shame, or a secret pleasure. Also, thanks to Sarah of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting ‘Opposing Forces for Saturday Mix, March 3, 2018. The words are melt and freeze, and East and West.


Credit: Jordan Mathieu via Unsplash


Puffs of breathe,

Frosted air.

Words un-melting;

Lies freeze tongues.

Intrepid fibber;

Eyes dart East,

Then, West.

Towards lunar orb,

Free to wax and wane.

Your escape — impossible.

Wrappers, boxes —

Unconcealed.

Sweet eyes crinkle,

Mirth, laughter.

Gooey caramel,

Caresses tongues.

Chocolate dissolves,

Ice-cream compels,

Chaste-less addiction.


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Poem – Quadrille – “Winged Hope” #amwriting #poetry #dVerse #flashfiction


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW August 29, 2017. Also, thanks to Paul Scribbles of #dVerse Poet’s Pub for hosting a poetry prompt on magic

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Credit: Jade M. Wong – FFftAW

——–

Art bleeds, 

Nobody’s seen before —

Winged ring,

Mortally wounded.  

Some kids arrows —

Embedded. 

Forever trickling,  

Whenever someone’s — 

Dying. 

Knives, gunshots wounds. 

Whether they’re sick —

On pain medication. 

Or dead in sleep.

Winged circle bleeds, 

For generations. 

Weeping blood,

For death is —

Constant. 

Yet in darkness, 

Gleams old magic, 

Hope’s recourse, 

Heals. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

100 Word Wednesdays: Poem – Quadrille – “False Eden” #amwriting #poetry #100WordWednesdays #flashfiction 


Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting #100WordWednesdays

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Credit: Bikurgurl

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Eden fed us, 

Juicy tomatoes, 

Dripping down cheeks. 

Sweet aubergine onions, 

Avocados verdant, 

Soft melting glories. 

Plethora of fruits, 

Crisp vegetables, 

Burgeoning. 

Flourish of nature,

Ancestoral heritage. 

Our Eden desired, 

Banquet addicting, 

As Greek Lotus flowers. 

Utopia negated, 

Parody, Pandamonium. 

Ripest and best, 

We couldn’t have, 

Bellies growling, 

Hunger forever, 

Cursed, 

Never sated, 

Never full. 

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Photo Challenge: Fiction – Alice and the Tea Cup #amwriting #fiction #photochallenge 


Thanks to NEKNEERAJ from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s photo Challenge. 

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Credit: Source Unknown

——-

Wonderland had been a delight for Alice. It always was, but she expected that when she returned to the real world, she would come back as herself — her correct size.  

Instead, Alice stepped through the looking glass as her regular 5’7″ height and found herself the size of one her mothers miniature ornamental figurines. Moreover, when she had taken a few steps she found herself falling from a tremedous height before making a great splash in what she discovered was a tepid cup of green tea. 

She didn’t recognize the face of the sullen man who was drinking from her mother’s rose china teacups. His hands surrounded the cup Alice was in and he hadn’t even realized when she landed in his tea, sloshing it all over his hands. 

Alice was soaked and feeling warm, the tea wasn’t as tepid as she thought. The man sighed and she heard her mother’s booming voice talking to the man about some cause she was recruiting donations for.

She screamed shrilly as the man lifted the cup to his mouth, struggling in the water and flailing her tiny arms. The man didn’t see Alice and as she continued screaming, the cup moved closer to the man’s mouth. As tea surrounded Alice covering her head, she had no choice but to bite the man’s lip. She sunk her teeth into his flesh, biting as viciously as she could with her minature teeth. 

The man gasped, suddenly in pain. Blood dripped from his lip where Alice had bit him. The tea and teacup flew out of his hand in surprise and Alice was flung out into the living room landing beside her mother on the couch. 

Her mother gazed at Alice with wide blue eyes before gently stroking Alice’s soaking body with her pinky finger. 

“Alice?” she asked, before fainting on the couch. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Day 5 – NaPoWriMo/A to Z Challenge: Poem – A L’Arora – “Steps To Eternity” #amwriting #poetry #NaPoWriMo #AtoZchallenge


For Day 5, the NaPoWriMo poetry prompt is ” to write a poem that is based in the natural world: it could be about a particular plant, animal, or a particular landscape. But it should be a slice of the natural world that you have personally experienced and optimally, one that you have experienced often.” The accompanying A to Z Challenge today starts with a GoodRead’s author’s quote, with a name beginning with the letter E.


Forest Pathway NaNo
Credit: http://www.combiboilersleeds.com

“I’d rather have roses on my table than diamonds on my neck.” ― Emma Goldman


*****

Down the path of foliage, between all the trees,

It’s where I find my space, my home sweet home.

There’s something about crisp green leaves,

Wet after the rain, while the dew clings, not letting go.

With road passing through, steps to eternity,

Enthrall me in summer’s breath, the scent of the morning,

Let me stay in mother nature, her security.

*****

Tree branches entwining, limbs gripped with passion,

Used to the presence of parallel lovers.

They’re completely attached, unwilling to let go,

Nymphs holding fast, enraptured with each other,

With the road passing through, steps to eternity, 

Absorbing the thrill of the mid-summer fairy dance.

Let me stay in mother nature, her security.

*****

Some brilliant reckless person crafted this road,

Travelers speeding through trees, guarding the sacred path.

Some pause knowing they’ve discovered sanctuary,

Freedoms breeze, they’ll stop to admire the sentinels guarding.

With the road passing through, steps to eternity,

A place where verdant nature, holds a secret prosperity.

Let me stay in mother nature, her security.

*****

For hours I’ve wandered through lush trees,

Delicate roses growing, shadowed by dripping leaves.

Overcome am I, by epic beauty, of roses sweetly pink,

Crushing them in my hands, to absorb the memories.

With the road passing through, steps to eternity.

Inhaling the fragrance of aspiring life, in roses soft,

Let me stay in mother nature, her security. 

*****

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Photo Challenge: Poem – Free Verse – “A Nightmare of Ink” #amwriting #poetry #nightmares


Thank you to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting the his week’s Photo Prompt chalkenge.

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Credit: Reylia.deviantart.com

——-

She holds the flowers teaming with a life force all their own, 

Knowing the ombré blue blossoms will escape; 

Flutter into the world carried on the wind, 

Pettles and fluffy white seeds blown across the land. 

Messengers of hope and artistry, a beauty undefinable. 

Her hands tightly grasp the stems, no thorns to prick errant fingers. 

She can’t let go, however, she she tries, 

Hands entrapped on rough stems holding too hard. 

So rigid are her hands, blood comes forth, 

The pressure of her grip too intense;

With great thought, he watches her, observes her reactions, 

She doesn’t understand why he’s hurting her; she needs help. 
She’s dressed in her navy dress and in life he loves it, 

In her dream, he picks at the fabric of her sleeve in disgust. 

Mumbling to himself, then struck with a thought, 

He’s found a thin fluted vase in blue to match her flowers. 

She doesn’t conprehend the symbolism or the reason, 

When ink he pours onto her flowers from the vase. 

He stains her hands until they appear black, 

The flowers are ruined and slicked with ink like oil. 

The streaming ink is everywhere, 

Her beloved smiles at her, he chucks her chin and winks, 

Takes the flowers and places them in the vase. 

The ink is all over her hands and arms;

Hers and his, and he’s laughing. 

Saying how difficult ink is to remove from one’s skin, 

So he cradles her face and he kisses her long, 

But then she awakes in her dream, 

To permenant ink stains all over her face and hands.

He smirks at her, walks away no care for the ink staining him. 

The moon gleams in the sky and it rains — buckets of tar black ink, 

Caressing her body, covering as sludge, dripping and spilling. 

What value is ink if she has no pen’s cartridge to put it in? 

She’s not able to use it to write. 

The world around is flooded by this precious commodity, 

And when she finally awakes for real, all is forgotten. 

Yet, the hands she holds up to the sunlight, 

Are stained dark black;

She’s tattood in the memory of a dream, 

Nightmares and reality never giving way to truth. 

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

 

B&P’s Shadorma and Beyond Challenge: “To the Fall Leaves” #amwriting #poetry 


Thank you to MindLovesMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s challenge on Fall and D.H. Lawrence’s poem about Fall called: “Autumn Rain.” 

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Credit: Forbes Travel Guide

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Crinkled Leaves, 

Whisper past my cheek, 

Twist in hair, 

On the ground, 

Disperse in my hand, fragments, 

Not one leaf — thousands. 

—–

The scent Fall —

Gives, lingers of rot.

It’s acrid

Yet pleasant. 

Dessication, fragrance breathe;

A nip in the air. 

—–

Floating leaves, 

Linger around trees, 

Dropping as —

One passes, 

Realize everything has —

A time to live and die.

——-

Brush strokes of, 

Deep scarlet and orange —

As pumpkins, 

Yellow as —

Butterscotch dripping and warm, 

Oozing to the ground.

——-

Feet crunching, 

Leaves underfoot and twigs, 

From trees mix, 

With their birth–

Place; such twigs sprung with green leaves, 

There weight is now shed.

——

Arises, 

The wind, blowing such –

Skeletons, 

They were lush, 

Now, they are gone, murmuring —

Winters chill and scorn.

——

Yet such a —

Beauty one does not —

See, but in —

The Fall when, 

Leaves cover pathways, hint at — 

Fascinating old dreams. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Tale Weavers Prompt: Poem – Octelle – “Story Line Wrote”


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this weeks prompt — Paper Back Writer:

” What is your great novel/novella/collection of short/flash fiction/poetry/ pulp paperback/graphic novel? Of course, you don’t have to write it, just write about it.

Weave any sort of tale;  in the abstract or concrete; as you or a character of yours; being accepted for publication; editing process; book tours – remember you ‘just wanna be a paperback writer.'”


paperbackwriter
Credit: http://www.revolutions5.com

I’m still working on a novel called: How Was Last Night For You? I’m editing it in second draft. Still a lot of work to do and haven’t had the time to work on it lately. This Octelle poem illustrates the story line roughly:


She wants love, but it keeps slipping,

Through her fingers, the Sirene dripping.

She’s a regular girl, too kind,

Believes in people and magic finds —

In her paranormal world sound,

Curses, mermaids, sea witch found.

Nina narrator, life gripping,

Focus and ire of a mer-witch.


John wasn’t smart at twenty-five,

Lied about girl, she cursed him live.

Where ever he wondered,

Strange events encountered.

People got hurt, women injured.

No love; witch’s wrath incurred.

Sees Nina drinking Flirtinie,

Sparks, passion, between them ignite.


A mermaid she is, sea witch too,

She’s experienced pain, heart broke through —

Victorian romance; cad —

He’d a mistress, kids they had.

Clued in after his death –cried,

Traveled, came home to new guy.

Adare never changed, men still lie.

No broken girl now -she’s Talise.


Characters wrote, story occurs,

Talise hates Nina — it’s inferred.

She cursed John left his soul burnt,

She wants John back, she’s a flirt.

Evil, she’ll never gain him through,

Her magic; Nina loves John true.

Witch’s wrath, all will suffer –die?

No one can say; writer yet edits.


©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.