Current Events, dVerse, Memories/Childhood, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Nonfiction, Photography/Visual Art, Poetry, Quadrille - 44 Words, Writing, Writing Challenges

Writing Prompt: Poem – Quadrille – “Sounds of Sleep” #amwriting #poetry #dVerse 


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for Writing Prompt #218 on night sounds. 

Also, I’m combining the prompt with #dVerse WhimsyGhizmo Poet’s Pub Quadrille Prompt on freefalling. 

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Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie
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Plush, toasty, 

Huddled mass, 

Bedsheets cotton crumpled, 

Furnace’s ember glows. 

Sky clouds, 

Dreamy veil. 

Screeching cars,
Transposed. 

Train whistles,

Downy soft knit throws,

Tangled knots. 

Nightmares, quandaries, 

Thunder roars,

Rain lashes out, 

Dishes clinked,

Crickets laughing. 

Duck tapped silence, 

Drifting — no wings, 

Lethargic before, 

Free-falling awake. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, Flash Fiction, May Day Prompts, My Thoughts, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Maydays: Fiction – Part 2 – After The Plane Crash #Maydays


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Thanks to K.L. Caley of new2writing for hosting #Mayday prompts. Today’s theme is a battle or fight of some kind. Also, Part 2 of a continuing series After The Plane Crash. Read Part 1 here. The battle I’m showing is the main characters fight through her fever and aches from being lost in the wild two weeks.

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Please read Part 1 here.

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“Young lady are you awake.” A woman’s voice whispered to me quietly. “What’s your name?”

I make a noise, not wanting to leave the land of my dreams. It’s safe and peaceful here. Danny is with me and we’re drinking a beer together like old times. I know my friend is not real but I don’t want to admit to myself in my dreams; Danny is dead.

A gentle hand feels my forehead. “She has a high fever. I’m not surprised being out in the wilderness that long. She’s sweating. I think it was an excellent thing the doctor got here so fast and we were able to hook her up to an IV to get some fluid and nutrition into her body.”

 The woman’s voice was soft and sensible. She sounded like the voice of a lady who was a mother. She smoothed back my hair and I sighed in my state of half sleep. I was cold and sweating at the same time. Iceness overcame me and I shivered trying to pull plush blankets around me as I sweated.

“Aunt Tabitha, what can we do? If we keep giving her the IV as the doctor said, and introduce her to some soup and other food in a few days, do you think she’ll be alright?” 

The voice I heard speaking was the deep male voice I had heard before I passed out. The voice had a rich timber, it sounded young and attractive. 

A small smile shaped my lips, then I groaned as cold sweat overcame me. “Poor thing,” Aunt Tabitha said. “I’ll take care of her Eric. Don’t worry, your Auntie took care of you when you were ill as a child and I would do the same for this poor young woman.”

“I appreciate it Aunt Tabitha. I really do. I didn’t know who else to call. The workers wanted nothing to do with her.They thought she had some awful disease the way she appeared to them.”

Tabitha gave a harsh laugh. “Ha, those locals are full of stories and superstitions which have no basis in reality. This woman will be fine. When I clean her up a bit and later when she can wash her hair, I imagine she’s a beautiful girl, Eric. I hope the man who died in that plane crash wasn’t her boyfriend.”

“ I don’t know . . .” Eric said softly. “I’ll leave you too it.” I heard him walk away and a door shutting.

 I was awake but not fully. I faded in and out of feverish dreams, nightmares where I was trapped in a never ending forest. No animals in sight. Nothing edible and carrying no water. Only dead silence filling my ears.

I was dressed in a bra and panties and had nothing else on — not even shoes. Darkness descended and it began to snow and my body was wracked by cold as the wind picked up and the snow built up around me. I couldn’t move. I was so cold I was frozen stiff like an ice sculpture; I shrieked aloud.

——–

Eons pass where I am stuck inbetween what’s real and what’s in my dreams. I dream about my Mom and Dad, how worried they would be about me. I know it’s been past two-weeks now since the plane crash. My feaver hasn’t abated for days but Aunt Tabitha dutifully stays at my side. At night there is a hired nurse. A thin bird-like woman who doesn’t speak English but sees to my needs. 

Aunt Tabitha is with me whenever she can be. I’m aware of her reading on her tablet. Sometimes she reads to me, but I want to tell her she’s only giving my mind more material for nightmares. 

I know she has asked me my name several times but I have trouble finding a voice strong enough to answer her when I feel semi-lucid. Only when nightmares overwhelm me do I scream and plead for them to stop using my voice loudly.

Today my head feels much clearer. I look to see the IV attached to my arm and am thankful it’s giving me nutrients because I think food would repulse me right now. With heavy eyes I scan the room. Strangely, Aunt Tabitha isn’t here. 

I move my head and neck gently, testing my muscles which ache from being in bed too long and from hiking through the woods. I wiggle my toes and stretch my legs. I straighten my arms infront of me and put my arms above my head, stretching my whole body like a cat. I feel a jolt of pain in my side.

Pain throughout my body becomes apparent. Bruises and scrapes mostly. I look at my one wrist and see it’s wrapped in a bandage.I must have sprained it. I’m not sure why I didn’t notice when the sprain occurred.

I feel dirty and have the urge to scrub my body until my skin is pink. A bath would be heavenly. My hair is limp and greasy on my head, I can’t remember ever having hair this scungy. 

I lean up in bed regarding the room around me. It’s a large bedroom and the room,  a work of art and design. The room has a peaceful ambiance, painted in grey-blue.

The furniture including the head board behind me is bleached wood like drift wood from the ocean. I feel relaxed in this place, gazing towards a giant white window with a padded blue window seat full of pillows matching my bed’s dark ink blue duvet and silver and white striped sheets.

I haven’t seen the sun in days. The bright white light of the sun bathes me through the window, but is too bright for my eyes. I shade my face with my hand and gaze in awe at the lush greeness of the mansions front yard. They’re fountains and flowers in the distance.

“Wow,” I say and my voice feels gravelly. I start saying random words and sentences aloud to make my voice sound normal but I can’t seem to rid my voice of its weakness.

 I raise my body into a sitting position, crossing my legs under the bed covers. My body cooperates slowly and with aches, but I manage. 

I have decided to have a bath or showe.  I’m certain I can stand and walk. On careful feet as if I were a toddler, I slip out of the bed and start walking to the bathroom I spied at the end of the room. 

It feels so far away at first but my legs remember how to walk quickly and my steps are more assured as I go. Resting against the door frame, I peer into the bathroom.

There is a large tiled glass shower with a wooden bench inside; I am thankful for the bench.The bathroom is designed well with a heavy marble countertop, twin sinks, and dark blue cabinets underneath the counter. A vanity table near by, holds a few cosmetics, clearly for a woman. The toilet is inside a closet in the corner of the bathroom.

I drop my clothes on the wood floor, carefully removing them as my muscles are still sore. The loose grey sweat pants and large white T-shirt are far too roomy to be my clothing and I leave them on the floor.

 I open up the shower door and hobble over to the bench where I sit turning on the shower nozzle convienantly located near my head. The shower is hot, too hot at first. But the showerhead gives a cleansing rainfall shower. I sigh in pleasure as the water washes over me. Picking up a puff hanging on the wall, I squirt jasmine scented Dior body wash on it. I scrub my body free of natures dirt and fevers sweat. 

My body’s skin is as pink as I imagined, when I reach for Dior face wash and volumizing shampoo. I wash my hair four-times before I’m satisfied it’s clean and I condition it, letting the conditioner soak into my dry long brunette strands before washing it out. The sun has caused some of my brunette strands to bleach blond.

When I’m done washing, I relax and let the hot rainfall water run massaging my muscles which ache. I stay inside the shower longer then necessary but I haven’t felt this well in forever.

 “Are you ever coming out?” a deep voice asks outside the shower chuckling.

I gasp and quickly turn the shower off fumbling. I cover myself with my hands uselessly. Eric is outside the glass shower and I’m naked inside, no towel within reach.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Books, Free Verse, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Prose Poetry, Writing

Poem: Prose Poetry – “Reading Away”


 

http://www.pinterest.com
 
I just want to read. I don’t want to think. I don’t want to write. I only want to read. Let the pages turn, like Metallica’s Lars Ulrich sings. I don’t want to do anything else. I’m under too much pressure. I only want to read, in a comfy bed I’ve made. Sheets that are cozy flannel. A duvet that is heavy with blankets on top. Just let me be warm and content. I’d go outside, if it was twenty-five degrees. But now it’s winter. I’ll stay in my nest. I won’t fall asleep. The book has me enthralled. I’ll stay here with my pillows, all twelve of them. I will read to escape. A book that doesn’t make me wonder. Just words that mean what they mean. And are a hide away. It’s good to have something greater in the big picture. But in the book I read, I want to drift away. Love and Sex. A Mysterious Horror. Blood and Broken Hearts. Action and Sexyiness. Affection and Friendship. No Tears please. Take me away. Let me read. Let the time spin by. I’m in my bed. I’m reading each word with greed. Catch me another day. Today, I’m reading. Today I’m carefree.

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

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

Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner: You Leave, I’m not.


“The last time, everything fit in three duffles…” well, was never. I mean I have been collecting memorabilia in a trunk since I was a baby.

My apartment has books I am not willing to give up. It is a place to do my makeup and style my hair. It has a mini office, the refinished desk near the front door. The papers I’ve organized to do with taxes and health benefits are all there. The bedroom has our built in closet and dressers filled with my clothes, purses, and shoes. 

 You are aware living in Canada you need clothes for at least three seasons? Winter being the worst because sweaters, winter coats, and boots take up a great deal of space.  And when the weather is warm you need various kinds of shoes dependant on the occasion. 

What about the furniture I made-over with my time and talent? What about the bed I purchased with sheets, pillows, and a duvet and covers? What about the lamps, couches, and curtains? The appliances and electronics?

You want me to go. . . it’s my apartment. I lived here first. You want me to fit everything in those three duffle bags. You’re crazy. You can’t make me leave, that’s your job man whore… (shove). Oh, you fell and hit your head on the stairs. Call your own ambulance.

http://www.publucdomainarchive.com

Thanks to Roger Shipp for hosting this weeks challenge!

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved. 

Health, My Thoughts, Relationship, Writing

Trouble with a Bed


My weekend started early. I spent Thursday cleaning up — emptying recycling and garbage, making my newly washed bed, putting all my clothes away (because Easter I had to try many outfits before finding the right one), packing for A’s, and making myself presentable. 

At 4:00 pm I called a cab (because medically I shouldn’t drive) and went to A’s. It was the worst time to go, of course, rush hour was early in 17 degree Celsius spring weather. I arrived at A’s and relaxed. I presented A with his new duvet and cover. He loved it and I made his bed. He says it’s so much more cozier now. For part of his Birthday coming up in May I think I’ll get him some dark grey cotton sheets to match his grey and white duvet cover. I was so jealous his duvet cover had a zipper opening when I also got my newish duvet from Simon’s Department Store and it only has button closures. Oh well, can’t win. 

That night I tried to sleep and thought the duvet would help. I was so hot because I wasn’t near a window and the edge of A’s mismatched mattress set bends over on the side I was on. I should have just taken more sleeping pills to begin with because I always need a bit more at his place but I always feel hesitant to do that. But then I slept awful and at 4 am I end up taking the extra pill anyways and moving out to the leather couch which is softer then the bed where I sleep at A’s and I slept there exhausted until A awoke for his appointment at 8 am. Then I went back to bed and couldn’t sleep because I was awake then, so I showered. A came back back and finally I was tired enough to sleep in the bed with him with the cozy duvet. 

When A left for mosque I pulled out Module 1 for copywriting which I had read but not done the exercises for and did those and thankfully after my Morning Tea which is loaded with extra caffeine for me I could concentrate well. I wrote my NaPoWriMo poem and then just relaxed.

When A came back he had breakfast which was my lunch and I had some green tea and this special bread A gets, kind of like a pastry flat bread. And all went well until about 5:30 pm which is the worst time of day for me. 

I have had to raise my Rispirdone levels back up slightly because I haven’t been able to concentrate so well but it also makes me feel more agitated at times. My Dexedrine wears off and that is a stimulate, so coming down off of it can be harsh sometimes. I was so tired and starving and there was no food. Finally, I say to A, ” I need to go home and sleep in my own bed.” He doesn’t get it. So I say quite grumpily ” I need to go home. If you can’t drive me I’m taking a cab.” I bring up co-op taxi’s ap on my phone and am about to press complete when A says, “ready.” I stumble out the door and when we get to McDonald’s I inhale my double cheeseburger. I feel a lot better surprisingly by the time A gets me home but still glad to be home. So what happens when A’s home is my home, I wonder? We’ll use my bed it’s softer and I’m use to it. Problem solved. 

At home I lie in bed, I cannot sleep because I’ve been trying to nap all day but I lie there and my muscles relax. My mom comes home and she’s been shopping for items to wear and use in China. She shows me everything and we sit out and drink tea as she irons. I certainly feel I’m at home. I guess I will just have to bring more of home to A’s. But bonus points for him, we did talk about getting married and how that will be if we can manage, including budget and engagement ring. So, that’s a great start. 

That’s a piece of my weekend. How was yours? 

  

NaPoWriMo, Poetry, Writing

Day 6 – NaPoWriMo- Aubade – ” Arising”


We are hidden softly,

Underneath the duvet.

You push the covers grumpily, 

Out of your foot-fall way.

See the shining beacon,

In the sky like egg yolks.

You crack four into the pan.

And start the frying of bacon.

The sizzling slurp,

Wakes me alive and-

I yawn and kiss your-

neck; it smells like Dior.

You put your uniform on to Work.

And leave me wanting with a second look.