Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen – The Invisible Man’s Disappearance #amwriting #flashfiction


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.


Credit: Enisa


Tom Sawyer scratched his head. “This here’s the bust of our invisible man?”

“The poor fellow had terrible burns and injuries. His scar tissue means that he can never be totally invisible again,” said Captain Nemo.

“That right?”

Nemo frowned perturbed. “Dr. Jekyll said the invisibility potion only affected our friend’s epidermis but once that was burnt off in the explosion, it meant he would have obvious scarring.”

“He saved us all, ya know. I thought his skin would heal. I wouldn’ta left so long but there’s been rumors. Some say, Allan’s alive, that he dug his way out of his grave. I had ta investigate.” Tom spit on the flour, angry at himself.

“This is true. It’s said Africa would never let Allan Quatermain die. As for our invisible friend, Mina told me he was handsome once. Having half his head and face deformed was difficult for him.” Mina Harker appeared in the hallway suddenly.

“We haven’t seen him yet, Mrs. Harker, Ma’am, but the Captain and I were talking about him.”

She touched the invisible man’s bust. “There’s no telling where our friend went. However, I heard most of your conversation.” Mina tapped her ears inducting her improved vampire senses.

“Earlier you said you had been searching for Allan when you left us. Maybe the invisible man is searching for someone to help him too? Did you find Allan?”

Tom shook his head and Mina smiled, “Young Tom, Allan Quatermain is alive. He’s a youth like you now, but with much more experience at hiding. African Shamans have brought him back to life to fight with us again. I saw him in a vision; a great evil is coming and Allan is the key to stopping it.”

Mina tossed back her hair. “Once we find Allan, he will help us unravel our other friend’s disappearance.”

“Then it’s settled,” Captain Nemo said. “I will tell the crew to sail towards North Africa. There, our next adventure begins.”


©Mandibelle16. (2017)All Rights Reserved.

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Sunday Photo Fiction: The Exception #amwriting #flashfiction 


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

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Credit: A Mixed Bag

——

In their years of friendship, Alise and Janelle never fought except over Chaz Monroe. He dated Alise in high school causing a huge argument between the girls. 

“I liked him first you know that Alise,” Janelle had said. “Why are you still seeing him?” 

“We’ve been going out three-years Janelle. We’re planning a life together.” They’d been drinking vodka and Janelle threw hers on Alise. 

Then Chaz left for university and broke up with Alise. He dated another girl and Alise and Janelle reconciled over their disgust of Chaz’s tart

Ten- years later, Chaz came back to town. He was still handsome and Alise and Janelle had both secretly been in contact with him.

 Chaz visited Janelle first but when he came to Alise’s he told her, “I missed you so much, Alise. I’m sorry I ever broke up with you. Would you consider giving us a second chance?” 

Alise agreed, she loved Chaz. But when Janelle found out about Alice and Chaz she invited her friend over under false pretences of congratulating her. 

Janelle mixed neat vodka’s for them both and threw candied cherries in their drinks. Alise took a few sips, choking on the weird tasting cherry. She was shocked to see Janelle slumped over dead as she too succumbed; Janelle had poisoned them both. 

They had always been bestfriends except when it came to Chaz Monroe. 

—–

©Mandibell16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Photo (Collage) Prompt: Poem – Wrapped Refrain – “Home” #poetry #amwriting #fiction 


Thanks to Mind Loves Misery’s Menagerie for this week’s photo (collage) prompt.

——


——–

Autumn was such a time for us, 

Love was fun, nothing dangerous.

Leaves falling deep red, orange, yellow.

Met you walking, strong and mellow. 

Attractiveness found, conversation, tokens.

Hid memories in a box, saved before broken.

——-

Paper boats sailed on peaceful lake, 

Sitting ‘neath trees, in your arms wake.

Photographs you took of me and —

Made me laugh, giggle; life was grand.

Such times we had, you lugging your camera around, 

Pictures of us, many left, they’re here surrounding.

——

Photobooth, and I sat on your —

Lap; laughing again, not sorry.

Your handsome face, so dear to me, 

Making you laugh, my mission, see? 

Making faces in photos in my underwear, 

I knew I could coax out a smile, you loved me bare.

——

Exposed to you, negatives shot,

Our days close, even when we fought.

Knew you well, every smile and frown, 

Wish you were alive, but you drowned.

Now our time is done, my photographer, my love.

All these pictures snapped, thinking of us, our short love.

——

A spritz of the perfume I wore, 

The day we meant, special for —

Not forgetting you now; playing —

Songs we sang, piano keys they say, 

Through music what I could never admit alone,

Autumn was our time, in your arms laying, I was home. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Free Verse – “Making Grandma’s Day” #wordhighjuly #poetry #amwriting #marahuyo



———

Grandma When She Was Young (www.pinterest.com) Actually Betty White!

——–

You straightened your blue tie;

The ocean-blue of your sweet eyes.

Long lashes, dark styled hair; must be —

Embarrassing for such a strong —

man going on 6’5, to have such eyelashes.

Not that height, 

Makes a huge difference;

But I’m liking what I see.

You smiled, lips full, 

Kissable, and my mind goes south . . .

Then, I’m blinded by another,

Of your sweet smiles.

Gorgeous, open; you appear so alive,

Happy and handsome.

Steamy and hot;

I think it’s love at first-sight.

In a summer suit; a baby-blue shirt.

Blue is your colour, in every shade.

You walk, I get the view from behind;

It all looks good to me.

Big-feet;

I hear that’s great too.

Again, my mind wanders, 

Should I walk the same way you’re walking?

Maybe, you’ll notice plain old me?

Utterly, enchanted by your sight.

On this dreary day, 

Everything’s gone wrong; the cancers back.

But your magnatism, your laugh;

It made my day.

I feel as if I’m some voyeaur, 

To appreciate such beauty,

And care of appearance.

Qualities such as long-fingered hands,

No doubt talented; I miss those . . .

I trip while admiring you, 

So marahuyo;

I can’t see straight.

You turn around alarmed,

Having noticed and heard, 

Me fall on my face embarrassed.

I’m an eighty-six-year-old woman, 

Falls aren’t a good thing and I’ve pride;

To walk yet on my own.

But you’re kind and pleasant;

Though I tremble in your presence,

You bring me ice from a restaurant for my hip.

I say: “If I was younger . . .”

You blush and I do the Grandma thing;

Patting your arm, 

Possibly, inhaling how great you smell, 

And showing you,

A recent picture of my favourite,

Gorgeous granddaughter.

Dark auburn hair and grey-blue eyes, 

Beautiful, healthy, and fit, 

Witty and bright; an Art History Professor.

Your eyes go large and I know you’re, 

Thinking of a way to charm her number from me.

I chuckle say: “I’m where she gets her looks.”

You grin and chuckle.

Your laugh makes me so pleased.

And I accidentally, 

Let my granddaughters number, 

Pop-up on my giant iPhone.

I snap a picture of you Mr.Gorgeous,

You blush so cutely, she’ll love you.

Send your photo to my precious girl,

I just have this feeling. . .

Get you to text: He’ll Call. His Name is Cale. Love Nanny.

I take pictures on my IPhone and call;

Texting is too hard.

After more conversation,

I’m sure of you, wishing I was twenty-eight.

You have to leave, making sure I’m fine.

I’m sad; but my dear girl will bring you over,

Hoping I did her a favour.

My best and only granddaughter;

Smiling pleasantly, at the thought of you, 

A handsome businessman.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction: A Sad Tale of Envy 


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

——-

A Mixed Bag

———

They say there is nothing like the greeness of Ireland. Whoever said that, never saw Ashlen glare at her sister Cleona as she walked down the aisle with the man Ashlen loved.

Year after year, Cahban noticed a beautiful wavy red-haired girl attend every single rugby game he played; always alone. 

He had begun to wave to her a couple of years ago. She frequently waved back, beaming at him from her seat near field level.

 Cahban’s team mate and best mate from childhood, Eamon, told Cahban: “Go talk to the lass. She’s beautiful and only has eyes for you.”

So Cahban approached Ashlen before she left her seat after his next game.

“I’m not sure why you always sit here alone.” He said to Ashlen. “You’re beautiful and I’m only a sweaty rugby player. But maybe, you would like to go for a pint with me after I shower?” 

Ashlen was delighted. She had waited years for Cahban to finally talk to her. 

The couple dated two-years and were considering marriage when Cleona, Ashlen’s twin, finished university at Oxford and came home.

Although Ashlen and Cleona were twins, Cleona had a quality of mystery about her, men found fascinating. 

 Ashlen saw no physical difference between her and Cleona except Cleona’s straight hair. 

She didn’t understand why she hadn’t been gifted a quality similar to the allure Cleona possessed.

Ashlen knew the moment Cahban met Cleona, she had lost him. His blue eyes met Cleona’s and sparkled brighter. 

Envy and jealousy burned within Ashlen. She hated her twin, Cahban, and mostly herself; she felt she was inadequate having failed to win her true love. 

Ashlen had no choice but to be her sister’s maid of honour a year later, as Cleona became Cahban’s bride.

——-

They found Ashlen floating in the sea near her home, the following morning. She had jumped from a cliff so high, her body had broken before drowning.

Cleona despite happily married to Cahban, was never the same. She cried for her twin, Ashlen; the only person who made her complete.

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Writing 101: Poem – Shadorma – “Plastic” #everydayinspiration #amwriting


The Writing 101 prompt for the second last day of the course, is to feature a guest. I will have Jacqueline from A Cooking Pot and Twisted Tales doing a guest post interview in the coming days. Maybe, a week or two. So that’s when I will fulfill the prompt. For today I have a poem for you to enjoy. 

——-

http://www.kencloudpix.co

——–

The plastic,

Face of Ken Doll I —

Grew up with,

Playing Barbie,

His head nothing special, no —

Hair to comb; plastic.

—-

But I find,

Ken doll, he never–

Went away.

I see his —

Visage, the face of many —

Men; breathing and real.

—–

Yet I can’t,

Deal with the facts which —

Say the truth,

You’re alive–

So plastic, nothing could make–

You smile for real, yet —

—–

All I see,

Is eyes a fake shade,

Contact lens,

Enhanced blue,

Secrets beneath, hiding you,

Botox face, contorted. 

—-
You do the —

Right things, say the right —

Words to speak.

But plastic,

Is cheap and replaceable,

Because beneath – nil.

—–

Deception,

It hides handsome grins,

Manipulate,

Barter lives,

Pirate at heart hiding guise,

Suit, Cologne, slick hair.

—-

Slick like you —

Secrets you’re keeping,

Putting up —

Your own front.

Hiding genuine you; tired —

Of being plastic.

—–

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

Poem: Shadorma – “Beauty Reveals All” 


Thanks to The Daily Post for the prompt word Sing. Today’s poem will be a Shadorma. A Shadorma poem is a sestet with no set rhymes. But there is a syllable pattern of 3/5/3/3/7/5 in each sestet. Thank you to Manan and Rosema for information on this type of poetry. Check-out their Shadormas in their links provided.

——–

http://www.nextshark.com

———

Only when,

You see the proof will —

You believe.

You do not–

Believe inside; with your heart,

You’ve no vision there.

—–

I sing about, 

A day when I will —

Finally–

Reveal all.

Maybe the day will never —

Come; maybe you’ll grow up.

—–

You can be —

Childlike and innocent, 

Be young at —

Heart and laugh, 

But you’ve a complicated–

Way of showing youth.

—-

You’re not young, 

You’re older then mountains, 

Crumbling,

You’ve gone soft, 

There’s no back bone in your body, 

Perhaps, you’re a snake.

But maybe, 

This is only rage —

Passed down from, 

All the years, 

I’ve thought, what to sing,

Attractive face hides.

—–

Don’t you know, 

It’s what I’ve learned from —

You and them.

A handsome —

Face, can mask, multitude of —

Sins; dishonesty.

—–

I’m not sure, 

Who I will meet one —

Day; the liar? 

Or a man, 

Learn-ed from, mistakes in life; 

Beauty sings, reveals.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Writing 101: Fiction – Part 3 – After the Plane Crash #everydayinspiration


Today’s Writing 101 prompt is to write on a Tweet. Here’s the Tweet I chose: Twitter Quote


——-

Please read part 2 here.

——-

“I’m fine,” I tell Eric trapped in the shower. “Can I have a little privacy. I was only relaxing, the hot shower feels good on my body. I was dirty and sore.” 

“I can understand that,” Eric said. “I was scared you’d hurt yourself on the way to the bathroom. Aunt Tabitha said you were weak and hadn’t even sat up in bed yet.”

“I’m good,” I say awkwardly still trying to cover my nakedness. I don’t know why I bothered. Eric didn’t seem to care I was naked, only that I hadn’t hurt myself.

“Walking was fine, I managed. I couldn’t leave my hair in the state it was in any longer.” 

Eric chuckled and he opened a tall cupboard in the bathroom removing an oversized plush pale blue towel and a smaller towel as well. He hung them over the glass shower. I was happy the glass wasn’t completely see through due to the steam from the shower.

“Thanks,” I told Eric, grabbing both towels and immediately wrapping myself in the larger one. I arranged my dripping locks into a twist in the smaller towel.

Slowly, I opened up the shower door and slipped out. Eric was staring at me with bright jade green eyes. A half smile curved his lips when he took in my appearance.

“You seem better.The shower helped a great deal.” Eric surmised, ” Aunt Tabitha had an appointment in the city, so she couldn’t be here. Turns out it was a good day for her to be away since you have your strength back . . . Do you think you could tell me your name now?” 

I blushed for some reason, looking down at my feet. I needed a pedicure I thought before peering back at Eric. 

“I’m Ashlyn Howard,” I say shyly. I hold onto my towel with one hand and offer Eric my other hand. 

Amused, he carefully takes my smaller hand in his and shakes it gently. His hand is rough and as our eyes met, I feel a spark, a sensation between us I wasn’t expecting.

“I’m Eric, but you already knew that Ashlyn. We tried many times to find out your name in order to contact your family this week. But you were always so out of it. I couldn’t find your wallet or ID in your back pack.” 

“Yeah, I felt caught between waking up in this room feeling awful seeing your Aunt Tabitha watching me, and then I would dream again about my friend and the crash . ..” I explained. “I should try and get in touch with my family as soon as it’s possible.” 

Eric nodded.”There’s no wifi or internet out here I’m afraid. No cell towers or landline. I have a few satellite phones and that’s about it. We can call your parents after you’ve had a chance to change and rest. Do you have a boyfriend you want to call too, a husband?” 

“Um, no I’m single,” I say blushing. Eric smiles a at me. I feel comfortable around Eric I realize,  as if I weren’t standing outside the bathroom wrapped in towels. 

“I heard about the crash. It was in the news papers. I don’t know how you survived two weeks out in the wilderness. You lost a good bit of weight I think and you fainted on my doorstep from hunger and lack of sleep.” Eric explained.

” I remember. Your PA greeted me and I had nothing in me left. Is it true you manufactur hemp products and sell weed for medical usage?” 

Eric laughed. “Um, mostly that is what I do. I have a license to sell marajauna for medical purposes from the Canadian government. Our weed is top quality. So are the other products we sell made from hemp. A beauty line and some other things.”

 Eric changed the subject.” You need some clothes that fit. I had Aunt Tabitha order you some. She has some daughters about your age so she knew what to buy.” Eric remarked, opening a bleached wooden wardrobe filled with clothes.

“There’s bath stuff and cosmetics in the bathroom as you probably saw.” I gasped, noticing on the price tags of some of the clothes, that they were expensive. Hundreds of dollars and more. I wondered why Eric was being so nice to me.

I glanced at Eric, able to look my fill as he stared out the window for a moment. Eric was hot. Dark brown hair cut in the latest short style, mussed as he ran his hand through it. 

His jade green eyes were beguiling and a he had a wide smile made with sultry lips. His jaw was strong and angular and he seemed to have forgotten to shave today. 

Eric wore dark relaxed jeans, rips in the knees, and a fitted Lecoste golf shirt. Underneath, I knew he was built.

Eric noticed me checking him out and smiled at me. I flushed red and he laughed.”It’s good to meet you Ashyln. I was worried you would die, your fever and sickness were quite bad the doctor told us. It was lucky you found my place when you did.. . Do you need help changing into your clothes? Your wrist is sprained and I know you’re covered in bruises from the shower so . ..”

“You looked!” I accused Eric. He only grinned.

“You left the bathroom door open and the shower was glass. How could I not look?” 

” You could’ve pretended not to.”

“Don’t be embarrassed you’re beautiful. Even if you’re a bit skinny right now,” Eric said laughing. 

He was teasing me, trying to make light of the situation. I blushed at his praise peering up at him and for a moment my dark eyes caught his jade ones and locked in place. 

The air between us sizzled and Eric stepped towards me, brushing a long wet strand of my hair behind my ear. My breathing increased, my body ignited. Heat spread everywhere as Eric cupped my face and ran his thumbs over my cheeks. 

I could smell him, a light woodsy citrus scent and man, together overpowering my senses. His mouth hovered closer, I couldn’t breathe. His breathe was warm on my cheek his lips dropping a small kiss there before gently settling his on my mouth. Warm, explorative kisses, pressed against my lips and made me yearn for more. 

I bit Eric’s bottom lip, soothing it with my tongue and he dived in, claiming my mouth still gentle but with a need behind his kiss now, tangling his tongue with mine; teasing the roof of my mouth before sucking on my tongue. 

I fell against him and his hands smoothed down my body to my arms and back. When his hands brushed and massaged the sensitive skin and muscles around my neck I moaned completely giving into what was coming. Eric made my sore muscles feel so loose.

The smaller towel slipped from my hair as Eric’s fingers sorted through and grasped my long brown tresses. “God, you smell so good,” he rasped before kissing me harder, with more fervour. “It’s the jasmine,” I say between biting kisses.

 Eric’s hand lands on my hand holding in place my large towel. I was ready to let the towel drop. Sparks were creating an inferno inside of me kissing Eric.

It was then, Aunt Tabitha came in through the bedroom door, loudly, slamming it behind her. 

Eric and I sprung apart but it was clear what we’d been up to. Aunt Tabitha smirked. “Eric you’re needed downstairs.”

“What?” 

“There’s a phone call for you on one of the satallite phones. Your PA said you needed to take this one.”

“Now?” Eric stared at me, his jade eyes smouldering and his breathing fast. He shook his head, blinking. He gave me a final look and a small kiss on the cheek, before striding out the bedroom door.

I gazed at Aunt Tabitha, the woman who’d been caring for me and I was sure she could see my face was red. She only laughed at my embarrassment.

“It’s okay. Eric’s a handsome guy and you’re a beautiful women. He doesn’t see many beautiful women around here.” I flushed again, conscience I was still in my towel.

“I should get dressed,” I said, “I’m Ashlyn by the way.” 

“Ashlyn,” it suits you Aunt Tabitha remarked. “You know my name from when you were sick, you called out for me quite often. I’m happy to say you appear healthy. But you are quite thin since we brought you into the house even.”

“I’ll meet you in the kitchen downstairs in forty-five-minutes. The kitchen staff will have some filling food which won’t make you sick because you haven’t been eating much but soup.”

“Thanks Aunt Tabitha. I appreciate it. Eric said I could phone my parents too?” I asked.

“I’ll let Eric help you with that Ashlyn. I’m sure he’ll want to spend more time with you and I don’t want to interrupt. But he is my nephew, so be gentle with him. His past was a rough one.” I nodded smiling at Aunt Tabitha, trying to show I wouldn’t hurt Eric.

“I’m just in the room down the hall.” She said, ” You seem a great deal better having showered and um, having having been busy with my nephew, but don’t overdue it. You were pretty ill their for a week.” 

Aunt Tabitha left my room and I turned towards my new wardrobe, sorting through my it with appreciation. 

A thought came to me as I tried on a bright purple sundress, where was I exactly that there was no wifi, cell phone reception, or landlines? I had a few questions that needed answering.

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Letting Him Get Away.


It was along time before I had my first ‘real’ relationship. I went on Plenty Of a Fish, because my friend had met her husband on that site. My ex-boyfriend,  was not like the other men I talked to. He didn’t ask me what my job was or about sex. He asked me about my religion. He was Muslim and wanted to date a nice girl with morals, ethics, and who was close to her family. I was reluctant to date him because my ex’s religion is Islam and I grew up with Christianity. But I had never dated anyone longterm before. My ex-boyfriend was attractive and fun so I began dating him. 

My ex worked up North, where all the people who worked in the oil field, lived in camps. My ex worked three weeks on and one week off. I saw him once a week when he was home My ex was accepting of my condition. He didn’t mind that I lived with a mental illness which caused me fatigue and limited how long I could be out with him. He was quiet to begin with but later he opened up to me.

Our relationship functioned for awhile. My health improved so we were going out three times a week when he was here. Often, my ex would take an extra week off. My ex was gentle and he listened well. He gave good advice. But there were some issues in our relationship that became apparent.

The biggest issue was my ex staying in contact while working up North. Eventually, we were texting once or twice a day and I would call him every couple of weeks. It took three years to get to this point and a lot of hardwork on my end. When my ex was home we were together a lot. But I had to be diligent about making ‘talking’ and ‘getting to know each other better’ happen. 

My ex would also come back from work and go on a trip without telling me where he was going. Suddenly, there was no way for me to talk to him, sometimes for two-weeks. I learned he was seeing friends or had gone off on a road trip for awhile with his cousin. At first, I worried a great deal when all communication was cut-off. I often thought early on, he had decided not see me anymore. He accused me of seeing other guys in the beginning.

Ramadan was an extremely difficult time for our relationship. For the first couple of years we were together, my ex went to Saskatchewan to do his fasting with friends. Almost the entirety of June and July would pass and I barely was able talk or contact my ex because the cell reception wasn’t good. He was scarcely able to use Internet and he never tried to phone me. Although, I attempted to phone him. 

It was along time before my ex talked to me during Ramadan and an even longer time before he would go out with me in the daytime. Males can’t touch a woman they’re not married to during Ramadan before sunset. Muslims also spend a great deal of time reading the Quran in the day. I had no problem with my ex practising his faith during Ramadan, it was the fact he barely paid attention to me. Later, when my health became worse it was a challenge to see him at night anytime before 11:00 pm. It also took my ex an eternity to meet my family. He was scared of my Dad. He met my Mom a couple of times but not my Dad until the fourth year we were dating. 

The issue that finished us was me. I didn’t find the relationship to be fulfilling, I never felt secure. When I didn’t hear from him for awhile or he wouldn’t listen to me, I would break up with him because I couldn’t handle it. I broke up four more times with my ex because I felt he was ignoring me and he wasn’t giving time to our relationship. I didn’t hear anything from him for a month one time. He wanted to get married but he valued all the activities he wanted to do above his time with me. My family is also special to me and so was my ex becoming apart of my family, which he never attempted.

I went the last nine months without breaking up with him. He wanted to get married. I went to a friend’s wedding at her church. She was walked down the aisle by her Dad and her husband and she made their vows before God. 

At this point, I knew something was wrong with my ex’s and my relationship big time. I wanted to be like my friend and walk down the church aisle when I married. I believed in a Jesus who wasn’t merely a prophet but God’s Son. If I ever had kids, I wanted them brought up with The Bible and Jesus’ promise of salvation.

My ex hadn’t even told his Muslim family back home about me, even though Muslims are allowed to marry Christian girls. I knew his cousin because he lived with him and had been introduced to the odd friend of my ex’s at the bar. But after four years, I had no idea who most of his good friends were. Some of our problems were due to my health. I became worse for awhile and it became too much to date him often because he usually wanted to get together at night. 

Mostly, I needed a fresh start. I needed to develop myself as a person on my own. I needed freedom. It was hard letting go of my ex but the religion issue finally pushed me over the edge. My family is extremely Christian and I couldn’t deal with relatives who didn’t think our relationship was right, when I wasn’t into my ex anymore. I wanted a guy who involved himself in my family, friends, and life — who could relate to my lifestyle.

I’m busy in my single life. My ex was a good boyfriend but he was not the guy for me. In a relationship, when it is the right relationship, you want to be with the other person exceedingly. You want to be with the other person so much because you love them and can work together to build a life sharing similar values. I wanted freedom and a chance to see what the world outside of “us” offered; for this reason my ex is my ex.

—-

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved. 

Poem: “A Lack of Fear.”


Prompt: How would your life be different if you were incapable of feeling fear? Would your life be better or worse than it is now?

—–

If I never felt fear, so many things would be different. I would have stood up to the girls in high school that were being mean to me.

I would have yelled at the boys in elementary school who called me fat and I would’ve kicked every single one of them so they didn’t call me that word again.

If I wasn’t afraid I would’ve kissed Robert who I liked and spent a trip to a Mexican Orphanage and San Diego when we were seated on the bench at the zoo. I wouldn’t have cared if my Dad had seen. I would’ve kissed fearlessly.

If I wasn’t afraid I would’ve gone home with a guy named John in university; I would have stayed at the bar even though I had a headache; I would have spent the night with him. He was handsome and smart.

If I wasn’t afraid I would have told the first guy I loved exactly what I thought of him. To act like he liked me, to abuse the fact he knew I was in love with him, but to be bored when I talked to him. To not try enough for me. For that I would have yelled at him and asked him at the beginning of third year what his problem was.

If I had no fear, I would have forgotten sooner then I did. I wouldn’t be afraid seeing all those posts with his latest girlfriend accidentally, how much she loves him and the time they spend together. I wouldn’t be jealous because I could never be the one; I will never be his girl. I wouldn’t be sad on their wedding day if I had no fear.

If I was fearless, I wouldn’t have gone to work that day I knew I shouldn’t have gone. The day I feel to pieces at the office because my Dad told me I had to go. I would’ve stayed home and no one would have ever known what I mess I was at the end of that year.

If I had no fear, when I see  ‘I’ in the mall I would confidently go up to him and talk to him when I see him. I wouldn’t be afraid that because last time I saw him I was crying and confused. I would say hello, let him look at what he missed.

If I had no fear I wouldn’t have been afraid when I got sick. I wouldn’t have thought much when I thought I heard people saying bad things about me. I wouldn’t have cared. I wouldn’t have cared that each drug I took made me feel bad.

If I was fearless, I wouldn’t be afraid of tomorrow. That I will get worse again and have an episode or that I will always be chronically fatigued. I wouldn’t fear the future at all. I would trust that everything would work out.

If I wasn’t afraid, I would go out with dates with a lot of guys even though I have a lot of problems. I would sleep with whoever I am attracted to and I wouldn’t care if that was all he wanted or I wanted. I would be like many guys and turn off that part of my brain that cares.

If I had no fear I would travel the world alone. No matter I could only do it half day at a time but I would go and by myself. I wouldn’t care that my parents would be scared or that I was scared inside. Especially when my energy ran out in some place behind the old Iron Curtain.

If I wasn’t afraid I could do so many things. But you see, we have fear for a reason. And even though some of our fears are not reasonable, we made the choices we made and they cannot be undone.

I chose to act how I did in every situation, even when I was in the wrong. But I had fear because it made me think, that somethings aren’t a good idea. Because I have fear I have morals. And I think many things through.

Fear is a good thing in small doses. Or else, I would be skydiving right now.

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