Current Events, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Health, My Thoughts, Nature, Nonfiction, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Sunday Photo Fiction, Wrapped Refrain, Writing, Writing Challenges

Sunday Photo Fiction: Poem – Wrapped Refrain (1) – “The End of The Dock” #amwriting #poetry #flashfiction #mentalhealth


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

——-

Credit: Jules Paige

——–

At the end of the dock, will she find —

Her own end? Will she find a kind —

Soul who wants to save a lost one?

There’s nothing new under the sun,

She doesn’t want to reach the dock’s ledge to jump —

Into water, to drown, heart ceasing its thumping. 

——–

No one thinks they could reach this point,

No one sees beyond their own point.

Blind to the sad, anxious hoping,

Someone will throw her a life rope.

If she knew how to swim, maybe she could fight back?

Maybe she could cling to life even when attacked?

—–

She’s no superheroe who’s bent,

On killing her nemesis.

Her demons struggle within hid,

She keeps them sealed under tight lid.

Support her, help her, light the shadow of the lost,

No one knows when she cries, it’s not easy to stop.

—–

Waves inside her — tempestuous

They’re crippling waves, regardless

Beyond her sadness, waking up,

Worse than ignorance unjust.

Your lack of thought, with no empathy — she’s pleading,

You don’t try to learn or listen, she keeps bleeding.

——-

She said,”Not to judge a book by —

It’s pretty cover, how it looks.”

She pleads, “Listen to Atticus,

Walk around in my skin,” pick —

Wisely how you react; she’s scared of descending,

At the end of the dock, desperate to not be.

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Fiction, Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneer, My Thoughts, Nature, Writing, Writing Challenges

Friday Fictioneer: The Winter the Snow Never Stopped #amwriting #flashfiction #snow


Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting FF.

——

Credit: Sarah Potter

——-

The snow began yesterday and hadn’t stopped. By 5:00 pm it was night and the snow continued. Sara peered outside and could see the fat flakes steadily falling. They accumulated into two-foot piles and the city was forced to run the snow plows to clear the roads. 

It snowed for six months starting in December without stopping but remained eerily calm outside and around -12 degrees Celsius. It was difficult for Sara to even buy groceries. The walls of thick snow made her claustrophobic. 

 At the end of May, Sara crept outside and heard the first trickle of the water. The snow had begun to melt. Now, the river was rising and flooding was a concern. 

There was no winning with Mother Nature. 

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Audio Poems, Fiction, Lauranelle - aba bcb cdc ded efe fbf ggA(1)A(2), My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

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


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

———

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.

Children/YA/Family, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Guardian Angels #amwriting #flashfiction 


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

—–

Credit: Sunyana – http://www.moipenseive.com

——-

I marvelled at the set of angel lights at the the beginning of each block, with another set of angels at the end, as I joined my friends at a pub. 

It seemed right these angels should be here, watching over the revelry. As I later walked a block down in the early morning hours to catch a cab, I recalled my thoughts on angels as child. 

Sometimes I had nightmares and I was too afraid to fall asleep. My Mom told me not to worry because God’s angels were always watching over me. Still, I looked to the corners of my room afraid because the corners were the darkest places. 

Eventually, I began to imagine angels were there in these corners guarding me as I slept. If I woke up afraid I’d look to the corners of my bedroom ceiling and feel safe. Sometimes I dreamed I could see these celestial beings watching over me. 

Going home that night in the cab I gazed at the angels made of lights, four of them guarding a street; I hoped the night ended safely for all. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Children/YA/Family, Fiction, Memories/Childhood, Music and Performers, Nature, Relationship, Writing, Writing Challenges

Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner: New Beginnings #flashfiction #fiction #amwriting 


Thanks to Roger Shipp for hosting.

——

Credit: Roger Shipp

——

(Hello! Just noting this piece had a mind of its own and is somewhat longer than the usual 200 words. Cheers!) 

——-

Closing time / One last call for alcohol so finish your whiskey or beer.” The mellow lines Semisonic floated into Tyrelle’s ears. 

It was 2:00 a.m. and his friends, Jordan and Simone, were trying to shut their house party down, arranging places for closest friends to sleep and for others to catch a cab home. Tyrelle nursed his last drink for the night. As per usual, he was upset these days. 

His beautiful Cleo should’ve been with him here tonight, ensuring he didn’t feel like such a recluse at his friends’ party. He hadn’t been in the mood for a party but since Cleo had ended things three-months ago, he knew he needed to move on. 

More Semisonic lyrics played through from an IPad:”Closing time / Every new beginning comes from some other beginnings end.” 

Tyrelle watched as Simone finally locked the front door. She peered at at him and moved to give him a short friendly back rub. “You still miss Cleo, huh?” 

“Yeah, everyday. Does it get easier?” Tyrelle asked her. 

Simone sighed, “Before Jordan, I was with Blake and I thought he was it. Then he broke my heart and for months after, I didn’t function well.” 

“After a while I stopped thinking about Blake as much. I realized I resented the hold he had had on me. Then I chose to become involved in life. I volunteered and I saw more friends and family. Not long after, I met Jordan,” Simone said smiling.

Tyrelle smirked. As if what Simone said could ever be possible for him. Then he remembered the last line in the Semisonic song. About how other things had to end for better and new things to begin. So that’s what he decided to do — to begin anew. 

He picked up his phone and blocked Cleo’s number. Tyrelle unfriended and blocked her on every social media. Tomorrow he would start going to a different gym location then Cleo to workout and he would go to a different grocery store by his condo to shop as well. Finally, he grinned, he would get a new haircut.

 Yes, it was time to live again. 

—–

“Closing Time” by Semisonic 

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Children/YA/Family, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneer, History, My Thoughts, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Friday Fictioneer: Where The Arched Doorways Lead #amwriting #flashfiction #fiction 


Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting FF.

——

Credit: Dale Rogerson

——

The [girl] who comes back through the Door in the Wall will never be quite the same as the [girl] who went out. [She] will be wiser but less sure, happier but less self-satisfied, humbler in acknowledging [her] ignorance yet better equipped to understand the relationship of words to things, of systematic reasoning to the unfathomable mystery which it tries, forever vainly, to comprehend” 

― Aldous Huxley, The Doors of Perception

——–

“Where do those doors lead, the arches are beautiful. Is there groin-vaulting in between each arched doorway?” 

The tour guide stared at sixteen-year-old Tina who was a surprise student of art history. “If you wish to discover the architectural features of the building, you must find them exploring, it’s how things are done here,” he said. 

Tina watched as other students from her high school trip went exploring in pairs, while she ‘the know it all,’ was left on her own. 

She walked through the first arched doorway and turned to see the tour guide watching her enter, “What is the purpose of these long hallways of arches. Do they end?” 

The tour guide sighed, “Go see for yourself. Sometimes experience is the best kind of knowledge.” 

Tina began following a series of arched doorways. She was filled with both trepidation and a strong urge to succeed, finding the exit. 

At times she had to choose a direction to travel when four different archways presented themselves. She kept walking until she was frustrated, bored, and tired. Then Tina lay down, resting her head on her jacket to sleep. 

In the morning she was relieved to find the exit. Last night she had thought she would never find a way out of this maze. She felt like a changed person today. 

——
©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

A L' Arora, Actor/ Actress, Fiction, Friday Music Prompt, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, Music and Performers, My Thoughts, Nature, Nonfiction, Poetry

Friday Music Prompt:  Poem – A L’Arora – ” Obesssion Deludes” #amwriting #poetry #music 


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting the Friday Music Prompt. Friday’s song was, “Waiting for Tonight” by Jennifer Lopez.

——

“Waiting For Tonight” – Jennifer Lopez

——-

Credit: Art Nouveau VSCOcam, painting art on Instagram

——–
(Her View) 

Tonight’s the night he’s meeting me here later

Passions ignited, we’ve fires, need sating

All the desires of our time together, at last met

I’ll be shaking, moaning, chasing the stars

Caught in the moment, we’ll shatter as glass

Wrapped in your strong arms, I’ll have a blast. 

Waiting for tonight, excitement beaming

When you and I are lovers holding,  fast. 

——

Preening, applying makeup and shaking

Preparing for you, our first time creating. 

Ensuring our night’s perfect; it’ll end complete. 

Skin grazingcaressing, nothing sub-par

Lovers busy enjoying repast

Perfect lingerie, beneath a gown fast

Becoming a favourite; it’s perfect and tight

Rip it off, no need to be so classy

——

Waiting for tonight, our love embracing, 

Perfection between us, this night for our sake. 

I’ve planned it exactly, we’ll not overstep

Each moments vital, at the finale beseech. 

Give into our lust, marvel in love far —

Better than any you’ve ever had; here we’ll last, 

Until mornings stunning rays of light

I wait for him, he’s mine; trembling, my hands clasp.

——

(His View) 

Tonight it came, the nightmare couldn’t wait

She’s obssessed, unstable, any day she’ll break.

Better to stop, was never invested, not set

On staying with her; she’s a whale beached.

Though thin like a beanpole, not nice at all

Loathsome personality, running fast —

Driving passed; her obsession frightening

I was ‘nice’ once or twice, now there’s an impasse.  

——

Need freedom, her annoying voice I hate,

Can life be normal again? Not Hell made? 

Can I touch the one I love, and not regret

Bringing him into drama; twice I cheated, 

Boyfriend enraged; a dumb girl caused my fall. 

 Told her, “I like men most;” but left aghast —

She doesn’t care, spoiled girl; not smart, no insight, 

Traps into engagement; I’ll always pass

—–

© Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, History, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Writing, Writing Challenges

Photo Challenge: Fiction – Spectre of Death #amwriting #fiction #death


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

——

Credit: “Minutes to Midnight” – http://www.hunternif.deviantart.com

——-

Time’s clock is forever ticking above death’s throne. The clock’s glass face absorbes the colours of the landscape where death resides. The greyish-green of the stone mass, a floating island, and the pinky-red fire of the sky above and below, reflects on the clock’s face. 

The figure of death sits soberly in his throne. The stone carved form a perfect fit for his lanky tall body. Beneath death’s left and right hands, the leering skulls of his first two victims sit. They are from our first two ancestors, people who lived exceptionally long compared to the humans living in modern times. Adam and Eve had tried to evade death, even though they knew he was coming for them. They had been ignorant and had no idea what death actually meant until they breathed their last. 

Their souls he’d had to let fly in heaven, gold birds with giant wings exploring their freedom and return to painlessness. He had kept their skulls, though one day he knew he would have to return them. For now, Adam and Eve’s skulls peered eerily out onto whichever soul was before death seated on his throne. Together with the dying person, death watched their last seconds of life tick away. He towered over them in his realm and let their soul sour to heaven or to hell, there was no inbetween except him. 

Some souls who stood before him were not afraid. This always amazed death. He was an imposing figure, giant and fearsome, his red hair as consuming flames, and his eyes burning coals. Some humans gazed up at him with what frightened death as wisdom, something they had gained, which few knew, not even him. Their souls flew away and he knew he would never see them again. Other people crumbled before him and he took time to torment them whether they went below or above. He was death after all, a fearsome being. 

Yet, he had no control where a soul went. Death had no power to choose or to do as he wanted. He had a job, a task. He was death, he killed; but he was not merely an end. He was also the beginning. What he valued most of all, freeing those souls trapped in decaying bodies or in bodies injured profusely. Death was a contradiction of terms, both good and evil. Souls of faith went above and souls of disbelief went down to hades. Even death was afraid of what lay far beneath him in the abyss. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Books, My Thoughts, Quotes, Three Line Tales, Writing

Three Line Tales: Mazes and Labyrinths #3LineTales #goodreads #quotes


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

This picture makes me think of mazes and labyrinths, finding your way through a winding place. I found three good quotes on GoodReads to represent this theme. The movie Labyrinth in no way inspired this, I hate that movie!


searchingtlt
Credit: Grace Grandinetti via Upsplash

1.“ [It] became a world whose rules I lived by, and I understood the moral of mazes: sometimes you have to turn your back on your goal to get there, sometimes you’re farthest away when you’re closest, sometimes the only way is the long one . . . That when you seem farthest from your destination is when you suddenly arrive, [it] is a very pat truth in words, but a profound one to find with your feet.”
Rebecca Solnit, Wanderlust


2. “ . . .A labyrinth has only one path and you merely have to follow it; it’s a symbol of life or, rather, of life and death; labyrinths twist and turn, but they have a beginning and an end, through darkness into light.” Ariana Franklin, The Serpent’s Tale


3. “This maze is laid out such that should you step through the correct path, by its end you will have learned the most extraordinary dance, such that any coronation would be proud to see you at the height of its feast, such that any holy dervish would weep and call you his devotion.”Catherynne M. Valente, In the Cities of Coin and Spice


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.