100 Word Wednesday: That Forever Scent #amwriting #fiction #memories #100WordWednesday


Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting the current #100WordWednesday. My apologies this week a hundred words turned into a few hundred that could not be cut. 

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Credit: Bikurgurl

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The balmy August air, humid and filled with scent of sand and the lake was a smell I would never forget. Years later, I’d be sitting on my chair in the nursing home  and that peculiar fragrance mixed with your cologne would suddenly take me back. 

I was leaning against the ice cream stand, watching various kids play in the lake. The line up for ice cream had been long but I wasn’t picky about my ice cream flavor — anything chocolate would do. The server presented me with a gigantic three-scoop ice cream cone but had no idea how I’d eat it all. The server told me that the gentleman behind me had paid for it, but gazing back I had no idea which guy he meant. 

Then, I went and I hid ( where I am now) behind the ice cream stand. That’s when the scent of sea and sand, and of sunscreen was heightened by the somehow familiar scent of your subtle cologne, citrusy and woodsy, mixed with the fragrances of the beach. It was a heavenly and sexy scent. It even overwhelmed the taste of the chocolate ice cream. My eyes closed inhaling your forever scent.

Minutes later, I opened them and you were there, leaning against the building beside me. Sharp indigo eyes and all smooth muscles and toned arms that were lightly tanned. You were devouring a three-scoop cone of Tiger ice cream as you stood watching me, reaching out only to wipe the melted chocolate away from dribbling down my hand. Even then, you were always gentle. 

But I felt your touch through the napkin, saw the light stubble on your cheeks and your full lips as you come close for a moment. Your divine cologne mingling with the smells of the lake, made my legs weak and you knew it too. There was laughter in your deep-blue eyes. 

“I can’t eat anymore of this you know?”  I said looking dubiously at the half melted cone. 

You chuckled, still staring at me,”It’s okay, but you’ve got some chocolate here,” you said wiping it off the corner of my lips with your thumb. 

I could hardly breath. The memory, the feelings, they were so intense. I wanted to be anywhere else but on the beach at that moment. I wanted to be somewhere private with you. 

It was a dreamlike memory, but this dream had once been our reality — our meet-cute. Later as we chatted I recalled you stroking my arms with a feather soft touch. You threw my melted icecream away, tangling your hands in my long hair. Bending down your lips meant mine, again and again. Intoxicated I devoured your scent comingled with the beach, the water, and the taste of your mouth.

 I missed you still. 

Hours later, I was awake in my chair in my room at the nursing home. I wondered if on the otherside you’d be there to meet me soon. If that same scent that made my knees weak so long ago, could be felt again as you you would smile with warm bedroom eyes and gentle concern. I hoped you and I could be together again in the celestial here-after as we had once been in life; friends and lovers both. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

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First Line Friday: Fiction – Stenham House #amwriting #fiction #FLF


Thanks to Dylan of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting last week’s FLF.

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Credit: http://bigproof.ru

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“Stenham house was an ancient locked thing and nothing returned there except for crows.” 

Lost in the forest Marybeth was charmed by the crumbling facade of the ancient mansion. She wondered what the house looked like on the inside as she slipped through the rungs of a creaky black gate.

“What’r you doin’ here, Marybeth?” her older brother Winston cried, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her.

“Mom’s worried. Said you’d been out so long she was ‘fraid you were lost in the woods for good. You know you’re too young to be out here alone.”

“What’s in there?” Marybeth asked Winston pointing to Stenham house. 

” You don’t want ta go there, ” Winston said matter-of-factly. “Tommy Johnson went in there and never came out the same. He’s a touched now.”

“Well he still lives in the neighborhood,” Marybeth argued. “I see him at school. He doesn’t play with the other kids much but sits in a corner and reads. There’s nothing wrong with that. What happened in that house?”

Winston shook his head, “You’ll have nightmares Marybeth, I can’t tell you. Mom’ll kill me.”

“S’okay I’m a big girl now. I’m seven. I can handle it.”

Winston sighed,”They say a family was murdered there. An axe murder came in and hacked them all to pieces. Grandma, Grandpa, the parents, and worst of all the children. There were four of them and the oldest was eleven.”

Marybeth gasped, “That’s bad. I saw the curtains moving I think someone still lives there.”

“There was a fifth child, he was a tot. The nanny hid him but was butchered herself. Even though the little guy was adopted, he always woke up with nightmares about the murder, even as an adult,” Winston whispered. 

” He lives there now, I think.” 

“He decide to live there when he ‘came  an adult. It was the only way he could face his demons. That’s what Aunt Sally told me.”

“Does Aunt Sally know him?”

“Yeah, they were in the same grade.”

Suddenly the front door to the delapitated house flew upon. Winston and Marybeth saw a gaunt middle aged man standing at the entrance. He motioned them over but then the crows began to fly and circle around the children, diving at them and pecking them when they tried to reach out to the man. 

Marybeth screamed batting at crows as she ran all the way back home to the safety of her mother’s arms. Winston followed his sister, his screams even more terrified. 

He swore to his sister, later, he saw the man at the door to Stenham mansion disappear into thin air. Marybeth believed him and decided to stay away from Stenhem house until she was older and wiser. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.  

Tale Weavers: Poem – The Blitz – “The Maiden and The Dragon” #amwriting #taleweavers #poetry


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s Tale Weaver’s prompt about a quest, such as the ones JRR Tolkien writes about in his famous books. 

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Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

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Dragons are here, I know it

Dragons beware, my sword is sharp

Sharp as the knives hid on my body

Sharp as the tongue of my wife

Wife said, “Do not go” 

Wife begged, yet I went 

Went through the haunted forest dark 

Went through the storms, muck, and mire

Mire as quicksand, sucked in my body

Mire that almost swallowed my life

Life burnt a flaming hole so wide

Life’s flame would not flicker out

Out of the muck and mire pulled

Out of certain death to rescue a princess

Locked in a tower for my Lord, my King 

Locked in a tower and languishing

Languished she did for centuries

Languished as a spell had been cast

Cast, so she would always sleep

Cast, because evil always hates

Hates beauty and goodness

Hates who this princess is said to be 

Be afraid though, I warn you, friend 

Be vigilant in your task to save 

Saving the princess isn’t the challenge

Saving her, I wondered, where is the dragon? 

Dragon she rose from the depths of beauty 

Dragon was the the princess herself 

Herself screaming, “I am the dragon”

Herself shouting, “I will eat you whole” 

Wholly she transformed in that fiery beast

Wholly she was a scaled, sulphereous demon

Demon who cried, “I am no damsal in distress”

Demon who seethed, “I protect me” 

Me, I gazed upon the languishing beauty 

Me, my eyes met the dragons yellow-eyed stare

Stared into my soul, saw I was a ruin 

Stared into my heart, saw I was wretched

Wretched cursed princess, the dragon? 

Wretched as the princess waiting 

Waiting and no one came so she grew tired

Waiting as she wrecks her vengeance 

Vengeance because no hero is true 

Vengeance, she can depend only on herself, no heroes 

Hereo, the archetypal kind who abuse poor maidens

Heroe, is there such a man who ever existed? 

Existed a hero she once did love 

Existed her hero but he never came — she remains cursed 

Cursed though she be, I could not destroy the beast

Cursed, she knows not why she is punished, cursed. 

Beast but still a girl, so I left, ashamed I could not save her. 

Cursed, she lingers on my mind, the maiden, the dragon as one

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Sunday Photo Fiction: Poem – Wrapped Refrain (1) – “The End of The Dock” #amwriting #poetry #flashfiction #mentalhealth


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

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Credit: Jules Paige

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At the end of the dock, will she find —

Her own end? Will she find a kind —

Soul who wants to save a lost one?

There’s nothing new under the sun,

She doesn’t want to reach the dock’s ledge to jump —

Into water, to drown, heart ceasing its thumping. 

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No one thinks they could reach this point,

No one sees beyond their own point.

Blind to the sad, anxious hoping,

Someone will throw her a life rope.

If she knew how to swim, maybe she could fight back?

Maybe she could cling to life even when attacked?

—–

She’s no superheroe who’s bent,

On killing her nemesis.

Her demons struggle within hid,

She keeps them sealed under tight lid.

Support her, help her, light the shadow of the lost,

No one knows when she cries, it’s not easy to stop.

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Waves inside her — tempestuous

They’re crippling waves, regardless

Beyond her sadness, waking up,

Worse than ignorance unjust.

Your lack of thought, with no empathy — she’s pleading,

You don’t try to learn or listen, she keeps bleeding.

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She said,”Not to judge a book by —

It’s pretty cover, how it looks.”

She pleads, “Listen to Atticus,

Walk around in my skin,” pick —

Wisely how you react; she’s scared of descending,

At the end of the dock, desperate to not be.

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction: Nickel Dust #amwriting #flashfiction #fiction 


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

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Credit: A Mixed Bag

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Tess held the torch in her dexterous hands, melting white-gold until it was workable. She shaped it until she formed a cuff for a woman’s wrist. Before the gold cooled, Tess placed in the center of the bracelet a pink diamond. Circling the pink diamond were tiny white diamonds. 

 Her buyer named Adrianne, had been specific about the quality and karat of raw materials used. She had been malicious to Tess as well, bruising her arm with a forceful grasp and spitting in Tessa’s face saying: 

“This bracelet must be your most perfect design yet or else. I’m not paying you so much money for nothing.” 

Fortunately, Tess knew Adrianne had a horrible allergy to nickel. Tess had procured the finest dust of nickel. When she packed up Adrienne’s bracelet she threw in silver and black glitter in the cuff’s box for decoration; the nickel dust hid well in the glitter. 

“You’ve out done yourself,” Adrianne admitted giving Tess a surprised glance. She paid Tess for the remainder of the bracelet and walked out the shop door scowling at Tess on the way out. 

She noticed Adrianne scratching her wrist and arm where she’d tried on the bracelet; Tess smiled. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Writing 101: Camaflouge – “Demon Within.”


If you look closely and try, 

You may see things that are alive. 

That hide behind the veil lifted;

Reveals a soul oh so dark , 

Utterly twisted at heart.

You may see things huge and torn,

A memory of childhood born,

And blood seeping through the core,

 And not a place you want to live.

What unstable being lerks within,

When we see passed our own sin,

Seek forgiveness and find that,

A monster still lerks there in.

He hides with growls and much power;

He is the epic Grendle to slay,

Did Beowulf forget to prey,

A seething demon hiding,

Would never arise again and–

We can’t hide behind our horror.

We can’t decide we’re afflicted,

And let the demon in his —

Golden palace glitter sleep.

We must fight the monster hid,

Deep beneath our normal-self.

The part that no one can see,

The soul in a dark prison,

A prison of ebony.

What capricious darling,

Needs to be torn to pieces.

The light envades the darkest–

Places in our hearts and minds,

My soul wakes up to find that God,

Designed us a Camaflouge,

We should never hide from He

Who is every space and those —

 Hidden inbetween sight.

We are able to find within what–

Has hid and free ourselves from —

A captivity and find–

A dream of peacefulness,

Divine providence, focus.

Don’t let the darkness win the

War for your soul and fight it–

You are hidden away and–

Safe, once condemned but alive,

With the coming of the light,

Remove the shackles and clothes,

That hid the human within the 

Walls of oppression and sin;

Of Camaflouge you have —

No need, go now, be at peace. 

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.