Children/YA/Family, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer, My Thoughts, Nature, Writing, Writing Challenges

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Nasty Courtyard Neighbours #amwriting #flashfiction 


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW,

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Credit: Yarnspinner 

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Our condo building has many square courtyards that can be purchased with a high rise condo so that a family can have their own place to garden and have barbecues. Parallel to us was another courtyard, higher up, and we detested the people who used it as they were loud, obnoxious, and cooked a great deal of smelly seafood. 

You cannot exactly complain to the landlord about this, although, I tried unsuccessfully. The garbage and beer bottles they threw on our courtyard when we weren’t there proved they had to be breaking some bylaws as did their noise pollution extending beyond 10:00 p.m. 

Nevertheless, our twelve-year old daughter, Jeseme, up late on a Saturday and gabbing in the courtyard with her friend, finally had enough of these neighbours and as I am told, screamed bloody murder and more to them in a way as adults, we only wished we could have done earlier. Apparently Jeseme was so frightening the nasty neighbours sold their courtyard and a lovely retired couple purchased the ill kept space. They also have a granddaughter who is the same age as Jeseme and her and April have become fantastic friends. A win win situation from my perspective. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

100 Word Wednesdays, Blank Verse - unrhymed Iambic Pentameter, Fairy Tale Themed, Fiction, Flash Fiction, History, My Thoughts, NaPoWriMo, Nature, Poetry, Quotes, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Day 19 – NaPoWriMo/A to Z Challenge/100 Word Wednesday: Poem – Blank Verse – “Mythology Not Lost” #poetry #NaPoWriMo #AtoZChallenge #100WordWednesday 


Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is to recreate a myth in a poem. The A to Z Challenge quote from GoodReads has an author with a P in their name. Also, thank you to Bikurgurl for hosting last week’s #100WordWednesday. 

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Credit: Anjo Beckers Photography

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” I moan with pleasure.

“Did you just have a foodgasm?” he asks, wiping ricotta from his lips.

“Where have you been all my life?” I ask the beautiful panini.” 

― Stephanie Perkins, Anna and the French Kiss

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There are those who believe the Greek gods left, 

Went away, didn’t return, disappeared. 

Where there was greed, pride, avarice, lust, and war, 

There was no longer, because these gods were, 

Never gods, more like spoiled children who were —

Tolerated for a while until the —

 God who is the God, decide that they, 

Need find another place to play, beyond —

Olympus, and Athens, and Rome — and then, 

Came the Popes and the Cardinals, more sin. 

They had always been there, but now they —

We’re warriors and wise men, judges and —

The Greco-Roman gods and goddesses, 

We’re invisible, ethereal, just air. 

It’s what becomes of beings that ‘are,’

But aren’t real, they’re missing a certain —

Quality that means that in some form they’re —

Alive; full of heart, blood, bone, marrow, soul. 

But these gods were but mythology so they, 

Faded as much mythology does.

Legends of all kinds and all cultures who 

Have been, before and after them, or so —

I was told, ’til I began to see such surreal —

Things in town, at dinner talking with —

My dad, about life, and school and then, 

Beside us was this old man; and his eyes, 

We’re blue and twinkled, he had such, 

Vigor for his age, he smiled at me while he —

Talked to his friends, other gods he said. 

Not the God, but gods, he said who had been,

To me they were all invisible; he said —

Long ago in Greece and Rome, he was king. 

As Zeus or Jupiter, but now they —

All blended into humans, they had their —

Special places where they could go, greeting —

Their old friends and eating what gods do. 

He ate panini, talking loudly, 

Today it was Aphrodite, he also —

Said he was eating Ambrosia, the food, 

Gods required, and an extra plate lay, 

Near his hand, licked clean; he said that his son, 

Apollo, had been there, eating with him. 

He calls me granddaughter and one day —

The old man gave me a small piece of his, 

Panini he loved, saying it was ‘good.’ 

Said it was in my blood, so I ate and —

The amazing delicious panini, 

Became a hunger inside me for more and —

More, until I no longer visited the, 

Restaurant with my folks or my friends, 

But to eat with the old man and our kind. 

Who no longer rule, but have special spots, 

In restaurants such as this, where myth, 

And reality meet, somehow they reform. 

Because at tonight’s feast I find them all, 

Gods, goddesses, of mythology lost. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

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. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

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

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Planting Seeds #amwriting #flashfiction #gardening


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

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The Storyteller’s Abode – Louise

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Gertrude is a beautiful child with chubby round cheeks. Her hair is the white-blond children get from being in the sun. She is three and likes to show you how old she is with her fingers.

I came to visit her Grandma from my farm, and walking to her Grandma’s door, I spied Gertrude hunched over in the garden. She has her Grandma’s big floppy hat on to keep the sun out of her eyes. 

Gertrude carefully picks beans. She has a look of concentration on her face and she giggles when she finds the right bean to pick.

Her Grandma notices me outside and comes out to greet me. We both gaze at Gertrude picking beans and hear her every laugh every once in a while.

“I told her not to pick the really fat ones,” Gertrude’s Grandma Joyce says to me. “She’s so careful about which beans she picks now. She’s only made it a quarter way down the first row.”

I laugh and wave to Gertrude’s Grandpa, Arthur, digging in the large garden.

“Your planting seeds,” I tell Joyce. 

“Seeds?” 

“Yes, in your granddaughter. Maybe, she’ll grow up and garden too.” 

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©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

Current Events, Fiction, Flash Fiction, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Writing

Sunday Photo Fiction: Three Stars Go Out?


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

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A Mixed Bag

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“What do you remember, anything?” 

“I was dancing with this guy at the club. He was so hot. He went to buy me a drink and then he fell. There was such a look of shock on his face as he held his chest. He’d been shot, and the blood was running down his chest through his hands. . . He was staring at me and well, he never closed his green-green eyes. His body slid down the bar, half-slumped against a barstool. There was no more light in his eyes. . .  ” One star went out.

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“What happened to you?” 

“Well, I was walking through my school. It was like any other day. The bell rang for fourth period, and I heard screaming and shouting. Kids were running, hiding in classrooms and hitting the floor. There were two shooters who had appeared, they were randomly shooting at anyone. But I was sure they had some targets. 

“They walked up to me and asked me if I was a Christian. I wanted to lie, but in the moment I couldn’t. I said yes, and the one shooter shot me several times. I felt the bullets, the agonizing pain, the blood flowing out of me. . . Then I was here.” Two stars went out.

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“Why are you here?” 

“I was told it hasn’t happened yet, that I could still change the future. This guy told me I could help end many incidents of gun violence. He showed me this tiny infant girl named Tula, my great-granddaughter. My granddaughter Alison’s, future daughter. Alison was beautiful and all grown-up, walking in the mall with precious Tula in her stroller. Then, there were loud gun shots, mayhem, screaming. I watched helpless as Alison cried and wailed. Tula was shot fatally, they couldn’t help her in time; she bled out.”

“It made me think about gun control legislation. It made me think if Tula could live, and this didn’t happen to other people’s grandchildren and great-grandchildren, I could give up my right to bear arms. If I could stop my great-granddaughter from dying, I would give up those rights.” 

Three stars go out? 

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©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.