Current Events, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Writing, Writing Challenges

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer:  Stronger #amwriting #flashfiction 


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

——-

Credit: Grant-Sud

——–

Below Joshua the city spanned the azure horizon. He wished it felt like home here, that the kids at school didn’t make fun of him. He couldn’t help that he didn’t speak English well. He’d lived outside of Beijing almost his entire thirteen years. 

Even though his English was improving, the kids in his classes still teased him, mimicked his Asian accent.  Joshua didn’t understand why they made fun of him, specifically. There were many kids of diverse ethnicities in his classes. The difference was they’d been born here, or had picked up English as toddlers. 

When some of the bigger boys punched and pushed him around one day at school, Joshua ran home immediately. There were tears running down his cheeks and he was embarrassed to be crying. He wasn’t surprised when his legs took him to his favorite place in the city. Joshua had found it one day wandering the streets and deserted buildings close to where he lived. 

As he presently stood on the corner of the brightly spray painted building, he swore to never cry again. No matter how much the other kids teased him, no matter how badly they bruised him; Joshua would show them he was stronger. 

——-

Kelly Clarkson – “Stronger (What Doesn’t Kill You) 

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Children/YA/Family, Fiction, Memories/Childhood, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Tale Weavers Fiction/Poetry, Writing, Writing Challenges

Tale Weavers: Fiction – Your Flamhsures are Showing #fiction #amwritimg #taleweavers 


To begin with I want share with you an amazing blog post from the writer Kristen Lamb. I would have rebogged,  it was not able to so here is the link to one of her latest posts called Shame, Shame, We Know Your Name — Or Do We? Shame in Fiction. If you are fiction writer it’s a great piece on how shame motivates most characters in many stories and novels. Also follow her blog: Kristen Lamb Author, Blogger, Social Media Jedi for practical and honest advice on writing. 

——–

Thanks to Michael of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this Tale Weavers writing prompt. Today’s prompt is to write making sense of ‘Nonsense’ and use the word flamhsures in a poem or story as a verb or a noun. 

——-

Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie – Michael 

———-

“You can’t go to school with your flamhsures showing,” Mina told her young son Todd. 

He looked at her and rolled his eyes. For an eight-year old he had become too cool for his parents. It seemed to Mina that kids were growing up so fast these days and that it was a shame they were. 

Mina watched Todd from the front door as he walked to bus to attend third grade. She sighed knowimg how embarrassed Todd would be as his flamhsures were still visible. 

She knew the other kids would make fun of Todd at school for this so Mina quickly walked to the end of her driveway yelling: “Todd come back here a moment. I need to ask you something.” 

Todd turned his head a moment and rolled his eyes at Mina. She dreaded the day that lay before him. She knew Todd arrive home upset and tearful. Mina wondered if he would still let her comfort him or if he would run to his room and yell at her after his bad day. 

In some ways he was no different than his father Thomas when he was in a bad mood. Mina loved her husband but when he was upset he could be cold and distant. She was afraid that their eight-year old had inherited these traits as opposed to Thomas’s better traits. He was a good Dad and a good husband but just as Mina, Thomas had his faults too. 

When he dropped by home to have lunch with her Thomas excitedly told her about his newest project as an architect and she told him about the latest painting she had been commissioned to do. She also mentioned Todd and his flamhsures showing. 

Thomas smiled, “Todd’s a big boy. He’s almost nine and he has to learn somethings for himself. He may have a terrible day because he didn’t listen to his mother but tomorrow he’ll know better because he’ll have learned.” 

Mina sighed covering her face with her hands, “It’s difficult to think of him as more than the little guy he was such a short while ago. He is still so young and it bothers me that that kids can be so mean to others kids.” 

Thomas comforted Mina holding her close and kissing her softly before heading out the door and back to work. Mina watched Thomas leave, perturbed when she saw his flamhsures were visible too. He didn’t hear her call out as he was already on his phone and back in work mode. 

When Todd came home from school he ran in the door smiling. Mina approached talking to him with care, “It looks like you had a good day Todd? What did you do at school today?” 

Todd rolled his eyes, “Oh the usual. Some math, some writing, gym, and recess. We played soccer at recess I like playing soccer.” 

“That’s good maybe you want to play in the spring and summer again?” 

“Maybe,” Todd says shrugging. “Can I have a snack? Some cookies?” 

“Only if you have some fruit with your cookies. Did anything bad happen today, Todd?”

“Not really, Mom.” 

“Well, I was just wondering because when I called you back from the bus it was because your flamhsures were still showing and I didn’t want you to be embarrassed at school.” 

Todd giggled, “Well I didn’t really notice but then some girl pointed it out and I thought I would get made fun of but then two other boys said their flamhsures were showing too and everyone laughed. Then all the boys made their flamhsures show and we all decided to play soccer.” 

Mina giggled, “Well I’m happy to hear that. Let’s hope your father has a similar good story. He came home for lunch and his flamhsures were visible too as he went back to work. Let’s hope he isn’t embarrassed either.” 

Todd laughed eating his cookie, “Things like that don’t bother men, Mom. Look at me I’m a man and I survived. Dad will be good too.” 

Mina tried to hold back her laughter, “So you’re a man now? Not my little guy, even at home?” 

Todd grinned, “Yep, I’m a man.” 

———

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, Italian Sonnet - Iambic Pentameter - Octave (abbaabba) - Sestet (cdcdcd), Music and Performers, My Thoughts, November Notes, Poetry, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

November Notes: Poem -Day 24 – Italian Sonnet – “The Blame”


This days song prompt is “Buses and Trains” by Bachelor Girls.


“Buses and Trains” – Bachelor Girls


woman-hiding
http://www.pinterest.com

Mom, you didn’t say, how cruel the world is,

I could blame you for it all, but I’m grown.

Teach me, I could’ve learned by your grace known.

Each day I’m run down by trains, it’s fun this–

Game; ears ringing from sound trains make hissing.

Or a bus in front of me is coming, near miss —

Only by seconds I’m safe, empty words moan.

Why do I being pulverized feel sewn

Together a quilt, with all pieces, its bliss.

How do I explain I needed guidance?

It hurts me, you decided, gave me up.

 Without your words, boys became as chocolate,

Choosing the worst, failing being grown-up.

Addicted, inhaling them, drug sate.

You could’ve taught me better, it’s too late.


img_2951-22


©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.

——

A Mixed Bag

——-

“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.

——-

“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.

——-

“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? 

——–

©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

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

Moral Monday’s Flash Fiction: Anything She Desires #amwriting #flashfiction


Thank you to Nortina for hosting Moral Monday’s prompts. This week’s moral is: “Spare the rod; spoil the child.” 

——–


———

“I wanna cookie” Ellie says. Liam loves Ellie more than he loves anyone but her deceased mother. He takes out two chocolate chip cookies. Ellie grins at her Daddy, grasping for the cookies and stuffing them in her mouth.  If Ellie doesn’t tantrum because she gets cookies, even three or four, it’s worth it.

Seventeen-years later, Ellie is grown-up, reminiscent of her Irish mother’s appearance. “I didn’t mean to crash the Jag Dad. You’ll buy me a new Jag right?” Liam has ruined Ellie. She doesn’t realize she could’ve died easily in the Jag crash. Ellie’s never had to care about the cost of living monetary or otherwise. 

———-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Etheree - 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10 syllable count, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Relationship, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Poem: Etherees –  “Always Drunk at Thirty-Six”


http://www.hgn.com

——-

Hangovers must be hell at thirty-six.

It’s nice to feel a little tipsy,

But aren’t you too old for weekends,

Passed out; weekend nights binging,

No, don’t live life wasted,

Watch your intake guy,

Nice to let life, 

Be; Moving,

With the

Flow.

One,

Day you,

Need to put,

Your grown up pants,

On each foot and think,

“Do, I want to spend life —

Drinking time away when I —

Could be living life loving ’cause,

I’ve a woman who lights up my days?

When I’ve life complete, why spend it wasted ?”

There’s a reason we all get drunk, sometimes.

We’re hurt bad inside, we need numbness,

We’re trying to forget a hard job,

Covering monotony,

Or we need some courage,

To do difficult things,

Losing ourself,

In ruby-red,

Or white,

Beer.

—-

Try

We think,

How’d we get,

To this place where,

We’ve no memory,

Tried forgetting reality,

Was merely out for good times,

Spending the night laughing with friends,

Don’t remember conversations with some —

Woman, no girl who matters; booty call.

Hangover fades and you think back on her, there,

For your enjoyment, drunken fumble in, 

Some bedroom, yours — you always come,

To your place, you prefer to,

Make them leave embarrassed,

Because you’ve no memory,

They’re a night,

A moment,

You made,

Null.

—-

Void,

You hear,

Sounds so loud,

Awaking finally,

The worlds gone ink dark,

You’re wandering between,

Days, which keep fading into the —

Last day, recall being fully —

Awake, not caught in haze of rye, rum —

Shots done all night as in younger days.

—-

Maybe, you’ve never passed this stage, growing,

Past a point most people realize some–

Day in their late-twenties when,

Hangovers last two-days,

And along come their kids,

With their beloved spouse,

Socializing change,

Set example,

Fun times,

Change.

—-

But

I think,

You’re single,

Might impress on, 

Pretty women’s view,

You’re not in drunken haze,

You can hold your liquor well,

Enjoy yourself sometimes, let liquor —

Relax your soul, knowing your limit,

She sees you being yourself, not some drunk.

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved

Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers: Trains in the Sky


When I was a little boy I use to love trains. One Christmas my Grandpa bought me this train set that went around the whole Christmas tree and all the other presents. I was 4-years-old and a train that went around a track and whistled like a real train was the funnest gift ever. I wanted to be the engineer who drove the trains on the track when I was older.

That’s what my Grandpa did. There is this picture in his office. It’s black and white and there is this sense of wanderlust I receive when I look at this picture. My Grandpa tells me stories, how he took people all across Canada on this train.

Now I am 21-years-old and I trained to drive the metro. I love my job. Except one day I wasn’t paying attention and I hit another train. I heard the screeching, the screaming, as metal bent and people died.Train driver error. But it doesn’t matter anymore — I am driving trains in the sky.

Word Count: 176 words

Train

Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting! Please join us!