November Notes: Poem – Day 27 – Laurenelle – “Both to Blame” #poetry #novembernotes #amwriting #music


Today’s prompt song is “The Night” by Black Lab

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“The Night” – Black Lab

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Credit: Jay Johansen Studio – Flickr Hive Mind

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Night calling and it bleeds with today’s pain, 

Your words, riddles linger, we’re both to blame;

Shower of diamonds, your words cut, blood rains.

It’s the anger you give me, my heart strains
To feel the comfort, the closeness, not this hate;

Can I forgive? Your inner monster reigns. 

He doesn’t hit; he’s inside you unsated
He’s your temper, you destroy us, words dwell

Lips sting abusive words, past ignites, lost faith. 

You think I won’t forgive; I’m your lover, a shell, 
I don’t want to live as Belle, trapped in prison. 

I know beast’s heart; goodness hidden in hell. 

This nightmare, sleeping alone, nothing given, 
Brought us down, broken paths, this our last night? 

You want sleep, you want peace — but I’m livid. 

I’m tired of the bore, this game playing, our fight, 
So I’ll wrap the sheet around you, I’m stupid

I care you’re warm, your sight gives me hope — light. 

My soul’s battered, yours is too, let’s erase —
Our problems; your eyes lift, I stroke your face. 

Night calling and it bleeds with today’s pain, 

Your words, riddles linger, we’re both to blame. 

——

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

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November Notes: Poem – Day 25 – Alouette (Audio) – “Game of Dark”


Today’s prompt song is “Up in Flames” by Ruelle.


“Up in Flames” – Ruelle

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Credit: Fan Pop – Wall Paper

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                    .                                              In shadows we dwell,

Moonlit private hell.

We disappear into edges,

Into the places dark,

Our lives are no lark.

We’re left standing, our bets hedged.


The darkness is cold,

We draw warmth, we fold.

Ourselves neatly into corners,

Existing in pitch black,

Our dimness won’t crack.

Light cannot break in, you’re warned.


Our hearts are blackest,

Survival is our knack.

Glass city, shimmers, breaks apart,

We’re a stronger ilk,

Sliding through night, silk.

As the world sets afire hearts.


Right and wrong confused,

Caught in self-abuse.

Night beckons us to creep, to find,

Paths leading out as,

It all goes up, has —

Been singed, burned, no mere kindness.


We survive the dark,

We survive the mark.

When it all goes up in flames,

We’re last to remain,

We’re last, but insane.

Learning a sadistic game.


img_2951-22

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

November Notes: Poem -Day 9 – Blitz – “The Darkest World” #amwriting #poetry #novembernotes 


Today’s prompt song is “Cupid Carries A Gun” by Marilyn Manson.

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“Cupid Carries A Gun” – Marilyn Manson

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Credit: http://www.steamyrainingcards.wikia.com

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Witch drums pounding

Witch drums, I’ll escape your hell

Hell is the death in your eyes

Hell is the blankness in your stare

Stare at today, world has changed

Stare at today, yet we’re all here afraid

Afraid of your spiders

Afraid of your mangled crowns

Crowns are for glory

Crowns aren’t for the gory

Gory I predict your future will be

Gory I predict as your trigger finger pulls

Pulls into hate

Pulls us into helplessness

Helplessness, you say hold your hand 

Helplesssness, if I give in, I am damned 

Damned by your words

Damned by your voice

Voice of sultry sin

Voice of evil intent 

Intent of voice to charm 

Intent of voice to bring pain and shoot 

Shoot your arrow through the hope in me

Shoot your arrow through the hope in this world 

World you’ve with your private hell

World is not yet without hallejeuhs 

Hallejeuhs set me free

Hallejeuhs have more power

Power greater than the wretched Cupid you’ve become

Power greater than your hand scrunching tight my own 

My own prison in your grasp

My own hell is you, on earth

Earth which you blacken 

Earth which you pollute 

Pollute our minds with lies

Pollute our minds with lyrics

Lyrics sung, no love song, you’re no Cupid 

Lyrics screamed, you’re the pitch of dark

Dark of night without hope

Dark of night unfolds its wrath

Wrath so great, I hold my Halo

Wrath so great I stutter my prayers

Prayers so intent, my Halo is safe

Prayers so intent, your tar-black is smothered by light

Light washes away your petrude charade 

Light shines upon your malicious deeds

Deeds should be done to bring light, not frighten

Deeds should be done to bring light, not frighten 

——-

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©Mandbelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

#OctPoWriMo – Day 30/31 – Senryu – “Eternity for Real” #amwriting #poetry #religion #christianity #faith


Day 31 Prompt: Eternal

“When I think of eternal, I think there isn’t much that is eternal, at least not on this earth. When I wrote this prompt, I believe I was thinking how even though OctPoWriMo is coming to an end, our words are forever – what we wrote during this month and beyond. What does eternal mean to you?” 
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“Truly, truly, I say to you, he who hears My word, and believes Him who sent Me, has eternal life, and does not come into judgment, but has passed out of death into life.” –John 5:24

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http://www.pinterest.com
 

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Time on earth is done, 
When my body is only, 
An Empty vessel. 

——–

Then shall eternity —

Begin; time will not matter. 

For all those gone on. 

——

Time on earth, linear, 

Comprehend forever, 

It’s hard imagining.

——-

What forever is, 

What it looks like and feels like, 

Who the maker is? 

—–

Death is frightening, 

Even in sleep, will it hurt? 

Where does our soul go? 

——-

This is why I think, 

Believing in God is wise, 

We can worry less.

——-

Perhaps worry not —

At all; because we know what —

The otherside will bring.

——-

Many say we’re wrong, 

There’s no heaven, there’s no hell.

I learned fear of God.

—–

Not that we should be —

Afraid of benevolent —

King; but his word speaks. 

—–

Gives us hope for life, 

Eternal in Jesus dying for —

Everything done wrong.

——

We’re not perfect and —

We never will be, we can’t 

Keep the Ten Commandments. 

——

Fulfilling God’s law, 

Impossible to achieve, 

So he sent Jesus.

——

He hung on a cross, 

Cruxifician painful, bled. 

He died went to Hell.

——

Defeated devil, 

Defeated death and the grave, 

So with him remain.

——

When our death comes there —

Is no sting, because those who —

Have faith, believe — live.

—–

That is eternity, 

Heaven with God, better than —

Our wildest dreams. 

——

Forgiveness of sin, 

Becoming perfect beings, 

Paradise for real. 

——-

Thank you for following me for #OctPoWriMo. Sorry, I’m behind on my usual prompts! I will catch up and am following a new themed daily prompt for November. Stay tuned 🙂 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016)All Rights Reserved.

Photo Challenge: Poem – Free Verse – “My Other Half” #amwriting #poetry


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for this week’s photo prompt:

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http://www.inspirationfeed.com

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There are two-sides to me,

One you will hardly see.

She only comes out one night,

When the orb of the full moon frightens and blinds. 

She marks her time trapped, on my back,

Pacing inside me, my evil twin.

Each day I feel the pain she creates;

Carving out another tick, counting the days —

With her burning sharpie;

Writing on me with acid.

She takes the days five at a time;

Slowly each night I feel her poison,

But I shut her in, shut her down tight.

She is buried and not to be found,

When I call all light towards me. 

—–

Yet I have no power,

When her strength is full,

When the monster prowls, 

When it snaps its teeth for blood. 

The werewolf inside,

Biding her time,

Until now, when the moon is full and round;

She spits and she howls,

Her teeth sharp tiny daggers. 

She comes out from the floorboards,

The darkest dankest corner of my soul. 

Her prison she erupts from, no longer trapped,

She unfolds her wrath on all who pass, brings terror;

Clawing at me, shredding me for fun,

Because she knows when the night is done,

I’ll have my strength of luminous sparks again.

The light of the day will flow through me,

Cascading through my body,

Repairing all wounds.

But for tonight she roams the earth,

A horrifying hell monster with claws that hurt;

She shreds my insides, reminds me how small I am,

That she is all powerful and will one day win our war.

——

But I am growing less afraid,

And I have time to be patient.

The night it ends, she’s back in her cage,
Marking me with acidic ink, every night,

 Until when next the moon is full bright —

She’ll break free of my skin, 

The torture will begin.

But yesterday night she didn’t come out? 

There was no fight to lock her in;

I think she’s trapped inside me, for good? 

And I’m claiming back my skin,

Healing all her burning marks 

Becoming someone new.

My other half is dead I think,

I don’t feel her uncoiling, 

Scrartching her way through my defence.

My plan conceived it ruined her.

And in slumber I locked her thrice, 

Poisoned her in sleep.

So the only place she’ll terrorize —

Is her own dreams and I think she quite deserves, 

The nightmares promised her, 

For all eternity;

Sickly wicked sister, gone at last. 

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved

Three Line Tales: Nothing Is Green #3Linetales #amwriting #fiction 


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting 3Line Tales: 

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Stephen Wei

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1. The walls close in, I cannot breathe; this city makes me feel overwhelmed — claustrophobic — somekind of modern Hell; it surrounds me, I think is this the future? A place which guards and enwraps us with all its conveniences and tiny living spaces — not a single thing is green and alive; we choke on simulated air. 

2. Let me out and let me soar; if I fly down from the top of the city, perhaps, I’ll sprout wings? I only think this though, the birds are all gone, the animals too; here is a carefully calculated society — a dystopia.

3. The buildings rise up high and press against me, make me want to scream for a grassy open field, for a piece of nature that’s imperfect and unreplicated in a lab; nature herself isn’t supposed to be simulated — she is anything but perfect and I wish for the long ago memory of a flower’s velvet pink petal. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Maydays: Poem-Free Verse – “Burning Him Down” #Maydays #amwriting



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Thank you to K.L. Caley of new2writing for hosting #Maydays prompts. This prompt has to do with fire or anything relating to fire.

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http://www.pinterest.com

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He peeks at her below a baseball hat,

He’s plays with a match; he doesn’t even —

Realize he’s heading for the flames and —

He’ll be consumed by an inferno fast.

Her lips are scarlet sin, and she is —

Sucking back her whiskey; burning down —

Her soft white throat, it smokes and his gaze means–

He’s buying her next round, with Diet Coke.

Her eyes are amber flashes, synging with —

Coal black and thickened eyelashes; she is —

Fluttering at him; sulphurous voice sings.

Dissolving smoke; she’ll set fire rational.

(Any he had) until he’s choking ashy smoke —

Second -hand; a dangerous demon, 

Sitting on his knee; his fantasy he —

Inhales and she’s blackening his weak heart.

She’s burning through his defence and he is–

Lusting for her skin; white ash torching within, 

He’s never going to win; she’s hell —

Burning him for sin; passion ignited, 

A red lighter starts the desire smoking.

She’ll go through him; like cigarettes lit, 

Feeding her ire, her desire; he’s on trial.

Pointed heels lost, fire engine red toes peek, 

He worships at her feet, and she consumes him.

She stands flames enveloping her; within her.

Enthralling curves and eyes seeing inside him, 

Thawing out the cold; she’ll burn him down.

Raging inferno of heat, flames will kill him.

A pile of ashes she leaves in his stead.

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

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


http://www.hgn.com

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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

Fascinating Connections in History, Literature, and Philosophy.


Thanks to The Daily Post for the prompt word connection.

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http://www.en.wikipedia.org

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Connections are something I’m passionate about. I enjoy the connections ideas have with one another.When I was in university, my major concentration of study was English Literature because I loved to read, write, and hear stories. Later in my studies, in my third or fourth year, I learned about ‘New Historicism’ in a Literary Criticism Course. New historist’s believe that: “what is history is textual and what is textual is history.” 

When we write about history we are also writing something literary and vice versa. This is because the writer’s beliefs, or the beliefs of the regime the writer was working under, affect their work. The ideas of ‘New Historicism’ made a fascinating connection for me between my English Major and History Minor.

Many kings such as Charlemagne (768 AD) for instance, had books written about them. These books made them appear to readers and history in a certain light. Charlemagne (or Charles the Great) United Western Europe, laying the grounds for France and Germany. He also was a huge supporter of the Papacy because the Pope legitimized him as a King ordained by God. Perhaps, that is one of the most extraordinaire tactics Charlemagne takes, he makes Western Europe Christian. Charlemagne would have his writers (monks) leave out any details that might make history look back on him in a less then ideal way. But history can often be no more than stories based on a few facts, it might be more literature than historically accurate. 

An example of this is the epic poem, The Song of Roland. The epic poem is French literature that takes place during Charlemagne’s reign. It is the oldest surviving work of French literature. The poem is about the Battle of Ronceveax, a historically accurate battle. Charlemagne’s army is fighting the Muslim armies in Spain when they are tricked. The French army is annihilated, until Charlemagne arrives and defeats the Muslims. The character Roland and the French army have no qualms about bravely dying for their king. They appear noble. They are not like many of today’s anti-heros who are scared to die and do not have much in the way of fighting skills. Medieval heros were written to appear strong and divinely blessed (such as Roland) so history would look back on them in a favourable way according the values of the time, and of their Kings.

Another connection to history and literature is philosophy — which was almost was my second minor. What the great minds of a time period were thinking, influences the historical events of the time and the way literature was written. Thomas Aquainius for example, a philosopher in the 1400’s, believed in ‘natural theology’ as a priest for the Catholic Church. Much of his work was based off of Aristotle’s works, especially Aquinius’ famous Summa Theologica. 

Catholicism regards Aquinas as a Saint and a model for priesthood. He influenced religion in his time (and now) and his philosophical work on Aristotle had an effect on literature being written. Aquainus’ views such as his beliefs on ‘virtue’ effect the history of the Catholic Church in the sense that Aquinas’ beliefs were the image the Papacy liked to portray.

In the latter Middle Ages, Renaissance and beyond, Catholic clergy such as the Pope and Cardinals, held a great deal of influence, similar to that of Kings. They commanded armies and despite Catholic teachings of celibacy, had wives and families. Peasants were sold items such as ‘indulgences’ to save their ancestor from purgatory, or to help buy their own way from hell. The focus was taken off how Jesus would save you if you believed in him to what you could do to get into heaven. 

Clearly, history was deviating from what Acquinas taught and wrote. In this case what was written in literature was philosophical, but not the actual history occurring. I’m sure at the time, the Papacy would have argued that what they were doing was perfectly in line with Aquanius and the teachings of the Catholicism. This is why in part, a Reformation in religion occurrs in the 1600’s.

For the most part, I found my studies of philosophy, history, and literature to be connected. For many events, history is not what we think it is. Actual history is influenced by opinion and thought – our philosophies and beliefs. History to a large degree can be made-up or embellished and is more so literature than a sound historical account. But literature can have sound philosophical beliefs behind it. This is a fascinating and complex way to look at how ideas connect with what occurs in our lives, what we write, and what we believe.

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http://www.en.wikipedia.org

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

Part 5: Never Again: Kasia Meets Scott (her Dad).


Please Read Part 4 of ‘Never Again’ here.

Part 5: Never Again – Kasia Meets Scott (her Dad.)

(A month later).

Kasia was walking around a neighbourhood in Nice, shopping for Spring. She remembered a time when it was difficult for her mother Jolene to make ends meet.They could afford only items which were majorly on sale, or search for quality items of clothing from the thrift store. Sometimes, Kasia still found an item or two at the thrift shop.

Although, Kasia preferred to buy from La Petite Mademoiselle, her mother’s clothing store chain because of the sizable discount Kasia received, sometimes she enjoyed buying a few fashion pieces at some more unique boutiques. A sky-blue silk scarf and a shiney pair of gold leather heels, were Kasia’s unique fashion finds  this day. Jolene wouldn’t be expecting Kasia to be home for a few hours. Kasia had planned her trip that way, she had someone she needed to visit before she went home.

—–

Kasia had enjoyed spending a great deal of time back at the Chateau with her Auntie Cathy over the past month. Cathy had shown Kasia old pictures of her Mom,  as well as pictures of Kasia’s Grandparents. Kasia pointed out how beautiful Aunt Cathy was in some of her old pictures. Cathy smiled at her and changed the subject, showing Kasia pictures of her deceased husband Henry and telling Kasia stories of how Cathy and Henry met. Kasia had sipped her wine, while Aunt Cathy talked. She wasn’t paying much attention to Aunt Cathy’s repeated story but Kasia perked up when Aunt Cathy flipped to photographs of Jolene with a handsome young guy. Jolene seemed to be in many pictures with this one boy.

” Who’s that?” Kasia asked Aunt Cathy. Cathy’s hesitation was all Kasia needed. “That’s my Dad,  Scott right?” Kasia exclaimed. Cathy bit her lip and worried it between her teeth. She looked back at Kasia.

“Yes, that is Scott Jeune. Please, Kasia stay away from him. He’s not a nice man. Your Mom never told you about him sooner because he is selfish and arrogant. You don’t need him and his problems in your life. You are still so young Kasia, barely fifteen-years-old.” Kasia listened to her Aunt but in the back of her mind, she was already waiting for when she could be alone and Google Scott Jeune on her tablet. Kasia was going to meet her Dad one way or another, while Jolene was kept busy with meetings for work.

—–

Jolene had been spending hoards of her time with the owner of the Chateau, Luc Devreux. Kasia couldn’t remember her Mom actually dating a man more than once or twice. Her Mom always came home upset and dejected after the few dates she had. Luc was a fun guy and he made Jolene happy. Kasia couldn’t believe how light-hearted and content her Mom was when Luc was around.

Best of all, Luc was aware of how special Kasia was to her mother. Luc wasn’t outgoing as Jolene was, but he was a dependable and kind. He was the complement to Jolene’s outgoing personality. Luc was helpful, thoughtful, and a good listener. He invited Kasia along with him and Jolene often, but Kasia knew her Mom needed alone time with Luc too. Kasia was glad her Mom had someone to spend alone time with.

Kasia was a teenager and boys her age, were mostly in an awkward phase — even though she was friends with many of these boys. Kasia was often attracted to guys a bit older then herself, to her Mom’s horror. The last guy Kasia had liked had been eighteen.

—–

Nevertheless, Kasia took a taxi into Nice today. Shopping was Kasia’s coverup story, because most of her time would actually be spent talking with her Dad. Kasia had made an appointment with Scott Jeune, through his assistant. Scott worked at Jeune Incorporated. Kasia had no idea what she would say to him, or if Scott would even believe she was his daughter. She simply wanted to meet Scott, to confirm in person, who her Dad was.

Kasia wouldn’t go as far as saying she wanted to spend time with Scott, after she met him. She didn’t want to cause trouble for her Mom, going to see Scott; her Mom had  kept herself and Kasia hidden from Scott for five-years. But Kasia felt she had a right to know her own father. Anyone, who saw them together and had eyes, would know Kasia was Scott’s daughter. Kasia had seen how similar she appeared to a young Scott in Auntie Cathy’s photographs.

When Kasia arrived at Jeune Incorporated, she checked in with a receptionist and was directed to Scott’s office, to his Personal Assistant. Kasia felt nauseous as she waited to meet Scott, she wondered if she was making the right choice coming to Scott’s office.

The green tea Kasia drank made Kasia’s stomach upset and she jerked when Scott’s assistant told her, ” Mr. Jeune will see you now, Miss Gudroe.” Kasia nervously stood up and straightened her pencil skirt. She followed Scott’s assistant to his office and sat down on a soft leather chair. A skeptical pair of brown eyes assessed her. Kasia couldn’t breath, she was sitting in front of her Dad.

“Hello Kasia, pleased to meet you. I’m Scott Jeune. My assistant told me you say you’re related to Jolene Gudroe. I’m a bit confused; I’m not sure why she didn’t come here with you. You seem a bit young to be attending business meetings.” Scott said smirking. Kasia bit her lip, drawing a dot of blood.

“Well the truth is, Scott, I’m here alone. I made this appointment on my own and Jolene doesn’t know about it. I’m Jolene’s daughter. I’m here to see you because I only found out a month ago, that you’re my biological father.” Scott looked shocked.

“That’s not possible. Your mother and I broke up when we were twenty-one.” Scott said gruffly.

” Yes I know,” Kasia replied. “But she was pregnant and you wanted her to abort the baby. She only told you she aborted her baby. She was trying to hide her pregnancy from you and that is partly why you never saw her in person after you told her to ‘take care of me.’  Jolene kept me. I’m her daughter and your daughter too.” Kasia said, emotion evident in her voice.

Scott laughed. ” How much money are you after Kasia? I know a trick when I see one. You’ll get nothing from me. I hear your Mother is doing financially well, ask her for money.”

“It has nothing to do with money,” Kasia said firmly.”It has everything with me wanting to meet my Dad.” Scott shook his head in disbelief.” Look at me Mr. Jeune, can’t you see we look related. Besides not having your brown eyes, we look a great deal alike.”

Scott’s face had gone white.”Jolene didn’t abort the baby. You are that baby, that would make you fourteen?” Scott said.

” Actually, I just turned fifteen.” Kasia was happy to be a year older and closer to being more grown up.

” I can’t believe she never told me, ” Scott declared suddenly angry. ” What  is wrong with Jolene. You have existed for fifteen years and she never once mentioned you.” Scott’s fingers dug into the leather of his armchair, making indents.

“Well,” Kasia said matter-of-factly, “It’s your own fault Mr. Jeune.” Scott looked taken aback by Kasia’s comment.

“My fault?”

“Yes, I will tell you why. And I will also tell you why you are going to leave me and my mother alone, despite the fact I’m your biological daughter. I needed to see you today to ensure I was right, that you are my Dad. Looking at you I know. The timing of when my Mom was pregnant lines up exactly for when my mother was seeing you.” Kasia explained.

“You told her you weren’t ready to have kids. You wanted her to get rid of me as if my life was worth nothing. You tried to take away her right to choose. But she loved me even at a few weeks old and kept me. She was so hurt and mad at you, you just threw your money in Jolene’s face and said to her to get me ‘taken care of.’ I hate you for that.” Kasia paused, sipping a glass of water in front of her. Scott was rapt.

“My mother wouldn’t talk to you for a month because she didn’t feel she could tell you she was pregnant — you didn’t want me. And you always planned everything for her. You never gave her a say in your relationship. You wanted her to remain a skinny model and not to achieve her dreams of going to fashion school. Then, you told my Mother you wanted her to stay home and have kids and when a kid arrived, you wanted to abort me.” Kasia shouted.

“Not to mention, I’m aware of how you slept around behind my Mother’s back. My Mom only learned about this later. She loved you so much, she would never have cheated on you. When my Mom first told you she was pregnant, you were dating your wife, Katrina because she had money and did what you wanted her to do. You can control Katrina…” Kasia cried. Scott looked furious.

” You’re just a teenager, what do you know Kasia?” Scott shouted. “Don’t talk about my wife that way. I couldn’t handle a kid at that time I was working, building a future, doing my Masters in Business, and trying to keep up with your Mother’s career. She was always travelling. Jolene loved showing off and having people look at her. If I used her beauty to my advantage so what. She used it, why shouldn’t I as her almost fiancé.” Scott said.

“And yes, I’ll be honest with you Kasia,” Scott said lowering his voice, “I’m a handsome guy. I’ve had my share of women. When your Mother was away, I needed other girls to keep me occupied.It’s how men are. You should know Kasia, you’re a smart girl who undoubtedly attracts her fair share of boys. My best advice for you if I’m your Dad, is that ‘boys will be boys,’ Kasia.” Scott said this last part with ridiculous self-assurance.

Kasia thought Scott was a disgusting pig. Not to mention, if Scott was her Dad, she didn’t need to know about him sleeping around at any point in his life. Still, Kasia was curious how Katrina felt about Scott’s unfaithfulness.

“Does Katrina know you cheat on her all the time? Do your kids know you sleep around? Do you have sons you are teaching to treat woman as badly as you do?” Kasia asked softly. Scott didn’t look perturbed by her questions.

“Fair question,” he mused. “Yes, Katrina knows I sleep around. And she has an ongoing affair with a guy she met in Madrid, on vacation. I don’t mind honestly, it keeps her occupied from bothering me. Not that I’m not ‘with’ my wife often but she knows how it works in our marriage; in many marriages. Just as I said, boys will be boys –men will be men.” Scott smirked again, annoying Kasia greatly.

” And your kids?” Kasia asked Scott again. He shrugged.

“I have a daughter who is about twelve-years-old, and when she is ready to date, I will make sure she eventually finds a guy who will take care of her. I can’t help it if the guy is faithful to her, I wish I could. But I’m not a hypocrite and don’t expect different behaviour from other guys when I am not faithful to my own wife. Sara’s mother will help her to understand. Katrina grew up in a world where she learned exactly what men behaved like in relationships.” Scott said matter-of-factly.

“I have two boys as well. They are young yet, but I imagine they will be a chip off the old block; I was. Does that answer your questions Kasia?” Kasia was tired and Scott made her feel disgusted about all men. She  hoped they weren’t all like Scott, or his Dad — her paternal Grandpa.

“You are awful Scott. I’m glad I never knew you were my Dad before this month. You’re supposed to be faithful to the person you marry, it’s a partnership. You don’t sleep around because you are supposed to love your spouse and be honest with them. Your view of marriage is screwed up Scott. ‘Boys will be boys,’ is a pitiful excuse you use to get away with being a coward and man-whore. No wonder Katrina has a long standing affair with another man. He’s probably treats her the way you should be treating her.” Kasia said angrily.

” My Mom always thought you were her ‘one and only.’ Then you tried to make her get an abortion. You dumped her two-months later. She never got over you and whenever she tried, you would contact her trying to hook-up and have an affair with her. She could never heal because you wouldn’t let her be. My Mom thought for the longest time she would only love you for life. But she was wrong, she is seeing someone now and he’s nothing like you, and I’m so glad.”

“Who’s she seeing?” Scott asked, “She still loves me. Jolene always will, this guy is only the newest model. Jolene was as much of a whore as I was.” Kasia shook her head in disgust at Scott’s jealousy and lies. She stood up and held out her hand. Scott appeared confused but he shook Kasia’s offered hand. His touch gave Kasia chills.

“Nice to meet you, mon pere, now stay the hell away from my Mom and me. Jolene hates you and so do I.  I understand why my Mom never told me about you, she was ashamed of you. You are an ass and I never want to speak to you again and I want nothing from you. Don’t contact us ever.” Kasia screamed the last part and Scott was taken aback at her fury.

“Wait Kasia…” Scott tried to reason with her, ” you’re my daughter, you can’t introduce yourself and then tell me to leave you alone.” Kasia was already striding out of Scott’s office.

” I just did,” Kasia replied giving Scott the appropriate finger.

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