Friday Fictioneer: Reliable Intelligence #amwriting #flashfiction 


Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting FF.

—–

Credit: Shaktiki Sharma

——

“Harold, where have you been disappearing at night? Don’t you love me?” his fiancée June asked.

“I’ll tell you what I can but we need to go somewhere safe. My men will sweep our hotel for bugs first.”

She nodded confused. Later, June turned towards Harold in their room, “Well?”

“I work with the CIA and you can never tell anyone for both our sakes.”

She nodded, “This isn’t what I expected at all but I won’t say a word. I’m glad we have each other.” Her words trailed off, Harold kissed her.

Outside their open window, a yellow locust (Tick) clicked. He was a scientific phenomenon whose clicking spread a morse code message to the enemy in the Kremlin.

But Harold was sharp. He’d seen the mysterious yellow locusts while walking into the hotel with June. The garden was fumigated that night.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Advertisements

Moral Monday’s Flash Fiction: The Argument


Thank you to Nortina S for hosting Moral Monday’s 100 Word Flash Fiction. Feel Free to join in to at the link above. Today’s moral is: “Don’t Straddle The Fence.”


arguing girls
http://www.dreamstime.com

“Every time we go to a dance club, you drag me along to talk with some guy you have your eye on. I’d like to talk and dance with guys I like too.” Alex told Suzy who ignored her.

Alex turned to Melissa: “You told me you wanted to talk to a guy tonight but Suzy said he wasn’t worth the effort; it’s not up to Suzy.” 

“I’m fine.” Melissa mumbled, cringing as Suzy glared at her.

“Why did you say yesterday, how tired you were of helping Suzy chase guys?” Alex asked Melissa.

“I don’t want to get between you and Suzy.” Melissa said. 

“You’re a part of this too.” Alex said sternly. 

Suzy rolled her eyes: ” I’m the prettiest girl. I need you both to be wing-women when I’m scoping guys. Melissa gets this, you need to fall in line Alex.” 

——–

*My apologies for going over 100 words this week. I couldn’t seem to chop the story down more.* 


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Maydays: Blank Space #Maydays



——-

Thanks to K.L. Caley of new2writing for the writing prompt spaces

——–


———

” Cause I’ve got a blank space baby, and I’ll write your name . . .”  Taylor Swift played on the radio as Dianne sat at the bar scoping out the possibilities for a good date.

Baldy was cute but not her type. The handsome guy in the tailored suit was probably devoted to his work; he made her shudder. But the guy in jeans and a t-shirt with green eyes was attractive. He seemed more the type of man Dianne was seeking. 

‘Green eyes’ caught her eye across the room and she smiled invitingly. Fifteen minutes later, he made his move to approach her at the table, giving her a freshly poured glass of red wine to drink. It was a nice gesture. Dianne was pleased.

“Hey, how are you?You look beautiful, too beautiful to be sitting here alone. I’m Trent, nice to meet you.” 

Dianne shook Trent’s rough hand with her delicate manicured one. She left her hand lingering in his for a few moments, peeking at him while fluttering her eyelashes. 

“Nice to meet you Trent,” she said, “I’m Dianne, how’s the football game?” Trent grinned. 

“Oh it’s good. Montreal is winning. They’re my team, so I’m happy.”

“Oh, I’m a Saskatchewan fan myself. Grew up that way.” Dianne commented.

“Saskatchewan, huh? Seems like they have fans across Canada. But they stole Edmonton’s coach. I didn’t like that move. It wasn’t a classy thing to do.” 

“Oh, yeah. It was a bad situation…” Dianne didn’t know much about football but she talked with Trent for awhile, nonetheless. 

He appeared to be a nice guy and conversation flowed easily between them after they left the topic of football behind.

Yes, Trent was the kind of guy Dianne craved right now. Solid, stable, a skilled tradesmen. Not a corporate CFO forever working.

“So, can I have your number?” Trent asked Dianne an hour later.

 She smiled stunningly at him.”Actually, I was wondering if you would like to come over for dinner Thursday?” 

“Um, I’m actually busy that night. How about another day this week?”

 Dianne sighed giving Trent ‘Bambi eyes,’ “I’ve got space Thursday, otherwise . . .” 

“Maybe, I can make Thursday work. Let me see . . .” Trent said anxiously scrolling through his calendar on his cell. 

“Oh sorry, Thursday is Evette’s night,” he said shaking his head at Dianne regretfully.

Dianne was sure she was more beautiful than Trent’s Evette. She pouted, “It has to be Thursday.”

“Why?” 

“Well,” Dianne said. “My husbands out of town.” If Trent could be honest about his girlfriend Evette. She could be honest about being married.

“What are you kidding me?” he said alarmed. “I don’t cheat.” 

“Who’s Evette then?” Dianne asked perplexed.

Trent shook his head, disappointed in Dianne.”Evette’s my niece and she’s four-years-old. It’s too bad you’re a cheater. I feel sorry for your husband. ” 

Dianne was shocked. Men never turned her down despite the fact she was married; she was gorgeous. 

But that didn’t make her husband Richard pay attention to her. Dianne knew he had an affair occurring with his personal assistant Joy.

She sighed in agitation. Thursday was a blank space, or perhaps; Dianne could find another guy to keep her from being lonely that night. 

Her eyes roamed the crowded bar and found her next target.

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: ” Objectified”


 

http://www.pinterest.com
 
It comes to me in pieces. I wasn’t good enough for you. I was only one of many. I didn’t realize, I wasn’t important.

I didn’t have that special vibe, that made you feel alive. The attraction I felt, only my imagination acting out.

Your piercing look of blue seeing me, trying to devise a way to know me. At least you tried a bit. I miss it.

And I miss the arms of someone who loved me much. But something wasn’t right. It’s how some relationships go. I wasn’t aware how much he saw in me, until he was gone.

Some men don’t try at all. They think you are only a release of the pent up need to mate. The desire of a guy for a pretty woman is tireless and unforgiving. He’s sure you’ll answer his libido’s call.

Why did I never see. I was always a number. I was always an object of sexuality. When I was young and so pretty , my worth was my beauty. Somethings don’t change, only the younger women are hotter.

I think of a song: “But Beautiful is empty / Beautiful is free / Beautiful loves no one / Beautiful stripped me.” (Creed) 

Beautiful is empty. Those girls who giggle freely and don’t mind being objectified. But some of them are hiding a world of color and art beneath their facades. A library of knowledge and experiences.

I realize how much we base on looks, our society is based on youth. Those who are the shiny pretty people. But no one can measure up, after your twenties or even then.

You tell me all the hot girls you can get. You tell me how easy they are to find. You make me feel no different then those you have defined merely for sex. What do you want with me, I am not so vapid. 

I thought I saw something in you. A softening of a man’s heart. Maybe I thought, you could sympathize with my life and make more of an effort. But I’m merely cute. I am not beautiful.

I’m not the ‘void’ that made me small when collage boys looked at me. I have learned from my experiences and I have always been more then my face or body. 

You say we should wait and see. Let the way things go, make the decision. I don’t mind going that way. But I see now I’m a number, a prized pet begging for attention with all the other women. A number.

There is an entire women’s movement of equality and their begging their men and trying to teach their sons to see women differently. I don’t think we’re succeeding. 

Woman are valuable because we are a ‘person’equal to men in every way. We are valuable because we are as smart as men and at times, much wiser. 

We are not our looks or our ability to bear a certain amount of children. We are not all the same. Each woman is unique and valuable for being herself. Stop numbering us on your head board. 

Ladies, stop chasing the men who are only after your tail. Stop letting them win when they characterize you as that easy girl they slept with. Make it hard, so they see your worth. Make them work.

And if they can’t see how wonderful you are. Throw them to the curb. Teach them a lesson. Tell them to stop objectifying women. To stop only seeing bleach-blond hair, big breasts,  and a lady whose got back — as the epitome of womanhood.

All of this is special and may make you who you are. The right men will adore your body, and it’s unique proportions. But they’ll adore your mind and your soul equally. They’ll treat you — what a word — specially.

And your man will try his hardest, to ensure you see you are valuable to him. All of you, from your hair to your toes. From your thoughts to your soul. 

Don’t do the walk of shame again and be ashamed for expressing your sexuality. If it’s what you desire you should know, you better make him a number before he turns you into one.

You best believe me lady. You are falling for a con. And you’re pushing back the women’s movement when you give into his charm. When he hasn’t put the work into, seeing you for who you are.

Poem: “Not Meant To Be.”


How do I know that you and 

I want what’s best for,

Each other and we aren’t lying,

About the truth to one another.

You want my body and,

You’re not afraid to tell.

From the beginning that is,

Mostly, what you want.

But you wanted to talk too.

You want to get to know each,

Other and be more than,

Only friends who are together.

Skin against skin that’s what you,

Desire but I can’t,

Give to you without knowing that,

I’m not just a Friday night.

I need to trust you,

But I’m kind of feeling that,

Things aren’t really working for,

A vital reason.

Maybe we are passing ships. 

In the cold dark night maybe,

We are just not meant,

To be together with each other. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction: The Herd Never Heard. 


I am at the crosswalk on Jasper ave and then . . .  there are young businessmen in colourful shirts and patterned ties talking loudly about sports; there are elegant older women in pencil skirts and flowing blouses shopping; homeless men in ragged winter coats and broken shoes begging; toned women in their Lululemons running back to the gym; bicycle messengers in their black mud-spattered garb; student’s in blue jeans and t-shirts hanging onto heavy backpacks waiting for the bus; there are the beauticians and hairstylists in their leather leggings, and funky light pink hair having conversations with clients; and there are people who are running home and quickly walking the dog with their husband or wife in tow.

There are also pretty girls with long black hair, heavy makeup, and leather moto jackets who are waitresses at restaurants of good repore; there are CEO’s and their top men in fine suits with pin stripes from Holt Renfrew who are negotiating deals; their are men with New’s boy hats and skinny jeans walking quickly to a retail job selling clothes; there are men in semi-casual khaki’s and a stripped rugby shirts working at cubicles in healthcare; there are firemen in there navy uniforms laughing loudly eating at the Wok Box; there are security guards in grey shirts and ties with a badge looking through a women’s large shopping bag; there all old-women dressed in their warmest down coat, with silver hair, and creased grey eyes looking to make some purchases at the Winners; there are old men sitting in the food court over coffee regailing each other with tales of their lives and of past jobs and children grown up and busy, of grandchildren who visit; there is a blind man led by a black dog in a jewel blue vest, stopping safely at the crosswalk before the cars go by.

Then there was me. An observer of everything, watching everything around me, knowing what they’re all doing. I was there a few days ago crossing the street in heels. Stepping onto a curb before I am pushed by two large men in suits not paying attention to a 5’1″ women. When the car drove over me I didn’t even feel it. I had hit my head on the concrete curb of the street. I was lying there bleeding and the hords stepped around me. They barely flinched when the truck drove over me, as if I was meant to be road-kill.

But I watch them from a tree a wisp of myself. And I wonder if today someone will care about the lonely and the lost, those too short and whose voices are too small to be heard above the noise.


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

——

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

Writing 101: Day 11 – Coffee Shop Talk


Green-Tea
http://www.rivertea.com
I don`t drink coffee; there is a harsh and bitter flavour to coffee and I don`t think I should be wasting any calories on a drink I don’t enjoy. I like tea. I will buy some speciality tea in a store and drink it for awhile but then I just become tired of it. When I go to a beauty salon, I ask for green tea. I attempt to get that part right, drink green tea because it improves your metabolism.

Once in awhile, I will have skim hot chocolate, but it`s to easy to keep drinking those so I don`t do it often. I have the green tea or I have an unsweetened cold passion fruit tea from Starbucks. It`s as if you were drinking hot tea, except that it is extremely flavourful and cold. Now that you know about what I`d like to drink (don`t worry I`ll get your`s too – chia latte you say), I could tell you a bit about what`s been going on in my life.

My main project has been this Proposal for Residential Furnishings. I have been taking this course all Fall from home to complete my Residential Interior`s Certificate that I began back in 2009. It will be good to be finished the certificate. But I emailed in the paper after fixing the ‘Works Cited’ page. There are all these little details to writing papers and proposals. The biggest challenge is often writing it in the correct format such as MLA or APA. I have been doing my work in Chicago style for awhile now. Blogging and doing articles is more suited to that. So, is free writing. It allows you to do footnotes and endnotes which I think is better then MLA where you include two () at the end of the sentence with the name of the author of the book or article and the number of the page you got the information from. I`m pretty gifted with MLA style because I used it in university and in many courses since. But times have changed, even writing formats, so there are new details to add to the MLA style. But they do have interesting citing tools that will put together bibliographies or a works cited page for you: easybib.com is a helpful site for that. But you will find, you may have to still add certain details once you copy and paste a citation. 

But my topic for my proposal is interesting. The exhibit is called: Vanity: Around the Dressing Table. To summarize, our wealthy ancestors wanted to look good, appear powerful, and  fashionable to their peers and those below them in the class system. So, they invented things for the vanity and used little scissors, combs, and perfume vials. Mirrors were very important and their are a lot of superstitions surrounding mirrors, more than seven years bad luck if you break one. Then dressing tables and shaving tables were developed and things such as dressing in a certain way, even in the middle class. The point is, `vanity`is just not about a dressing table but a disposition or attitude that effected people in the past and effects us in the present age. Think about lady’s magazines who popularize a certain look for women or a certain self-image in their pages. Also, our technology makes us vain when we use it to make an image of ourselves on social media or to take a`selfie.`We are a society immersed in vanity. So, maybe I`ll post the paper. I haven`t decided. It`s long and might be boring for people who don`t want to read a lot or are not interested in the history of vanity through historical items I have chosen for this pretend exhibit. But I made up a poster and everything for it. I`m happy with the project and glad it’s done. 

Also, I have been blogging like crazy. Writing 101 adds a lot more to write stuff about during the week. I enjoy it but sometimes I have a story in my head and I need to sleep and then I spend until midnight writing and I don`t even realize it. Creativity can be a difficult master. 

If you read my story `Dentures`you know about my acidic and grinded down teeth. I have been wearing my mouth guard and taking things seriously. I have slept two nights and it has staid in my mouth. But I must grind my teeth a great deal because I awake with a headache and my teeth hurt. Hopefully, it`s not too late to extend the life of my teeth for sixty years. I’m told by my mother I should start saving for implants now. The whole idea seems horrifying. I had one cavity ever and I hated getting it filled. Now, think about having all your teeth pulled out to put in donated teeth or to not have teeth in your mouth at all — just dentures in the day. That pricks at my vanity. 

I have been trying to stay caught up on my favourite TV programs after they have aired and are online. But the internet around my house sucks because everyone is sharing this line for SHAW cable. So, I am watching `Grey`s Anatomy`and the program pauses every few minutes. After `Grey`s`and `How to Get Away with Murder,’ l had enough of the pauses so I went to do something else. But maybe I’ll watch a couple programs tonight. 

That reminds me, I have to do my laundry before my Dad comes home and it`s almost 4:30 pm. I am having lunch with a dear friend tomorrow and going to get my nails done on Thursday. Meanwhile, once I get notes again, I will be studying for my final in my class December 1. I also plan to start Christmas shopping if there are some good Black Friday deals. I have a few things I want to get for myself as well.

As for my dating life: It’s nice to be wanted by guys and I have a few who keep bothering me to do stuff with them. The thing is I only have energy to do so much and don`t have energy for relationships or dating right now. I`m flattered, but I`m not interested at the moment. Even when I try, it just never works out. So, that`s on the backburner for now. Maybe in December I will go on a date or two. Or maybe, not. I guess I forget that nothing great ever came from comfort zones. A quote to remember! 

Hope things are well with everyone!

 

 

 

 

 

Writing 101 – Say Something


I was young. It was 10 years ago now. How was I to know that the chemistry I felt between us was nothing more than physical. How was I to know that you and me would never be anything, that you would follow me in the back of my mind for the next 10 years. I wonder if you understand how insignificant you made me feel. I wonder if you knew I didn’t want to be part of all the other girls who followed you around and sat beside you. I wanted to be different from them. For years I thought it was my fault that we never worked out. I thought because I was shy and felt great anxiety around you that I was the reason you never made an effort to talk to me. I believed that because what I felt for you was greater than anything I’d felt before and that the chemistry (to this day) was more than I had ever felt, that I should have done more, said more.

This story is not about a conversation that was significant; this story is about one hundred little conversations that never existed. It’s about one hundred little waves of the hand that we shared and that’s where the connection stopped. But I never understood how for years I thought of you, when I saw another guy. I compared the feeling I got around you to the feeling I got around him. I put you and guys like you on some pedestal, until one day after so much had happened to me I learned how to look guys like you in the eye. I learned how to flirt. I learned to look for other guys not like you — to ignore that huge sense of attraction — because guys like you were fake, thought they could have any girl. Guys like you got off on attention from pretty girls, they didn’t know how to treat pretty girls. Guys like you didn’t know how to be with a girl and make her feel fantastic. Guys like you were users. I hope today your still not like this.

Still, for years, I wanted the guy I thought you were. I never found him. I found another guy who loved me and took care of me and talked with me. But the chemistry is not like it was, the excitement isn’t there. I don’t know if I have just grown up or if I’m settling. I love him, but a part of me doesn’t, a part of me belongs with you. I think you stole it the last time I saw you walking down the temporary pathway to the university library. Your thickly lashed blue eyes looked at me and became huge and then we said “Hey” to one another.  It was the last of one hundred conversations we never really had. My first step towards freedom.

Say Something – A Great Big World