PhotoChallenge/ Sunday Writing Prompt: A Fairy Tale with a Bad Ending: Maleficent #amwriting #fiction #photochallenge


Thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s photochallenge. I’m combining prompts with The Sunday Writing Prompt of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie and using the title prompt tale: A Fairytale with a Very Bad End.


Credit: Jeff Simpson


Maleficent stared from her dim dungeon-like castle eyeing King Stefan’s daughter, Aurora, playing in a wide open field.

She whispered to Crow, “They’re supposed to be watching her those three dim-witted fairies. When I was a good fairy, I watched my charges closely. How foolish they are, I could end her life now.”

Crow cawed, “She’s but ten years old and it isn’t her fault Stefan is her father. She doesn’t know what he did to you to become king.”

“Quiet, Crow. I’m thinking.”

“You think a great deal but never do much. Aurora knows what her fate is, those ignorant fairies told her. Now, whenever she can, she escapes to this field to play. She has no care for danger or death. Sometimes she sits and stares into the sky crying.”

“Why should I be merciful to her because she knows she will prick her finger and die in six-years? I owe her nothing. She is a means to an end.”

Crow cocked his head. “She is not responsible for her father’s crimes anymore than your parents were responsible for leaving you alone to rule the Marsh; your parents did not intend to die. Aurora, does not want to die either. Why not raise her yourself and find a way to undo the curse? Simply losing her will hurt Stefan deeply as the queen can’t have more children.”

Maleficent pinched the bridge of her nose. “I cannot undo such a powerful curse and I will not do Stefan any favours despite Aurora’s innocence. He raped me Crow, I was helpless. He cut off my wings. I will not save the girl.”

“You may change your mind yet. You have watched her for years and have become fond of her. You hate that she’s putting herself in peril now.”

“Fond?”

“Yes, you have this soft smile on your face when you watch Aurora. You never smile that way except with her.”

Maleficent’s voice went cold. “In that case . . . ” she pointed her wand at the blond beauty. Heart beating loudly in her ears, she struck the small girl down. Aurora death was instant and a single tear slipped down the dark fairy’s cheek.

“Now, you see, Crow? I have ended her life. I’m not attached to her and we will bury Aurora’s body in the Marshes. Aurora’s early death will bring Stefan greater pain. He will live his life not knowing what happened to his daughter. His queen will die in grief.”

Tears dropped as diamonds from Crows’ coal-black eyes and wouldn’t stop. “I do not think Stefan is the most evil being in the kingdom. You are the person most full of evil. Just as he lost his heart to become king and hurt you, you have ended the life of an innocent child and are no better.”

“I meant for you to truly act as Aurora’s Godmother — not to kill her. You should’ve been the one to guard and protect her; I thought you loved her.”

“Love is as treacherous as running off alone to a field . . .”

Crow’s caw was forlorn. “Aurora could’ve had a new beginning with us, but I cannot serve a fairy whose heart has become black with revenge, with blood on her hands from an innocent’s death. How far you have fallen, Maleficent.”

“Stefan is not responsible for your evil deeds; you are responsible for your own crimes.”

Crow bowed once and flew away forever. Maleficent was left alone and inside her chest her heart’s ache was perpetual.


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction: Poem – Free Verse – “The a Hobbit Hole” #poetry #flashfiction #dVerse #amwriting 


Thanks to Alastair Forbes for hosting SPF. Also thanks to Paul of Poet’s Pub for hosting a #dVerse poem in the form of a blessings poem. 

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Credit: Erick Wicklund

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There are days,

I cannot think, I’m trapped, 

Cornered as a sleek red fox, 

The Predator’s main course. 

Searching for my escape, 

Running through the woods. 

Tripping on my, 

Shaking aching legs. 

Adrenaline quicksilver, 

Sliding through my veins. 

Lungs gasping;

A haunted, hunted child. 

By chance, by divinity, 

A blessing found, 

My ‘hobbits hole.’ 

My home sweet home;

A hiding place, 

To wait out enemies, 

Gnashing, clashing, 

With pointed teeth. 

Vicious men of ill repute, 

Fortune or fate despise. 

A crook in a fallen tree; 

A hole to spy for danger, 

As I veil myself beneath, 

Thick leaved branches, 

Cut from surrounding trees, 

Snuggled in my hobbits hole, 

Wishing Lord God, 

Bless me in my tiny hiding place. 

Leave me unconfronted, 

Unfound, an illusion —

Of invisibility to threats.

Basking in your security, 

Graciously provided, 

Let this not be the end. 

And I could’ve been wrong, 

I could’ve lost hope, 

I could’ve been dinner;

Torn apart by savage beasts. 

But serenity entered, 

On angel’s transparent wings, 

Calmed my heart, quickening. 

While the peace that —

Passes all understanding; 

Surrounded and enfolded me. 

When the dread made, 

 My skin crawl. 

When I bit my lip drawing blood, 

Sharp teeth approaching, 

A beast breathing  heavily, 

A brutal carnivore. 

Wickedness sure to devour; 

But he found me not, 

I was blessed, I was safe. 

Invisible to the lion, 

Remaining in my hobbit hole, 

Fortitudes fortress, 

My hiding place. 

And when all was safe, 

 Morn’s light illuminated. 

The dread of frights, 

Of the forest night, 

The predators that maim, 

And kill, disappeared into, 

The earth’s bowels. 

I prayed, gave thanks, 

And into sunlight I fled, 

The prey who survived. 

So blessed with life, 

Living to fight another night, 

Another beast, 

Serenity my companion, 

My relief. 

——–

©Mandobelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Three Line Tales: Poem – Lunes – “For Fishing” #amwriting #poetry #3LineTales


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

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Credit: Clay Knight via UnSplash.

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Skilled, talented throwing the line, 

Worm dangles beneath, 

Fish doesn’t comprehend his fate. 

——-

Struggle, fighting, swishing, pulling in, 

Glinting scaled being, 

Waged battle, he couldn’t win. 

——

You reel him in proud, 

Heavy fish squirming, 

Another moment, then he’s still. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Italian Sonnet – “Sonnet of the Milk Cow” #poetry #amwriting #flashfiction #fiction 


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

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Credit: majesticgoldenrose

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I am a cow, a cow I am; don’t think —

I don’t know you’re using me for my milk.

My friends out their in the pasture they think,

They’ll never be rendered into meat.

But the older cows who you milk don’t blink,

They know where fattened cows go too soon.

I’m told not to worry, with a wink,

I am a milk cow, that isn’t my fate.

I’ll live a long life as long as I give,

Thick liquid to use in many foods ate.

As long as there’s butter, yogurt I live.

As long as there’s cream, cheeses galore.

I’m a free cow until old age arrives,

Then I’m certain I just might be beef.

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Friday Fictioneer: Field of Broken Dreams #amwriting #flashfiction 


Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting FF.

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Credit: Liz Young

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I was out to meet my friend who lived nearby when I found this ravaged mannequin head. Her exquisite hazel eyes and pencilled brows, lifted towards the sky as if mannequin heaven was there. 

In reality her mutilated head lies in the tall grass. A used beer bottle leans against her face, an empty red cigarette package nearby. 

If she was alive I think she’d be wondering how she ended up here? Why she wasn’t the modelesque mannequin in the window display for Holt Renfrew or at least for H&M. Who had tossed her out like refuse and left her to this fate? 

Count: 91 words

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“Boulevard of Broken Dreams” By Green Day

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers: Poem – Free Verse – “Weight of a Little World”


I hold a small world on my classic physique, with my fortitude.

Holding up this bridge and pathway, doesn’t matter my attitude,

For it’s one of being cursed in marble, and accepting my sorrowful lot,

Having made the mistakes I’ve made, the gods left me to rot.

Pondering the beach, as Atlas pondered and beheld the heaven’s light rays, 

I bend my head, and think of the day, and to gods beyond Zeus I pray, 

Release me from my prison, veins of liquid blood congealed.

My stone figure, muscled, and taught; made to endure forever, concealed.

Bracing myself on stone, solid rock, muscles strained, no thought, and no slipping, 

Not even able to see my own face cringing, the expression rain is chipping,

My own little world on my back, I hold my personal pain; I hold your fate.

For mine’s an eternity braced as I am, scanning earths children; nothing to do but wait.

—–

Word Count: 154 words

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momtheobscure

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Thank you to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAP.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction for The Purposeful Practitioner: The Price


When I removed the contents from my tote-bag, I was perturbed to see a tattered book inside.“I could see the corner of folded yellow parchment sticking out of the torn lining of the battered book.” 

“What’s this?” I whispered. Instantly, I heard chanting. In my mind I pictured two woman murmering magic with candles in a circle around them. It was as if the image had been placed in my mind.

Suddenly, the parchment opened in front of me. Oddly, the symbols on the parchment made sense to me. The parchment was a spell for immortality. I had no time to think, the words of the incantation flew from my lips:

Live forever, consequences well known,

Speak the words, let your time now cease flow,

Your string never snipped, fate overlooked you,

Alone, you will wander, the cost is many souls.

When I stopped chanting, the parchment and the book had disappeared. My boyfriend stomped in the front door. Before I gave him a hello kiss, he said: ” Something about you is different.” Then I kissed him hungrily and he disintegrated in my hands. I burst into tears and I learned the price of eternal life — my kiss was the kiss of death.

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http://www.publicdomainarchives.com
 

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Thanks to Roger Shipp for hosting this Flash Fiction challenge.

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.