Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Over Troubled Waters #amwriting #paranormal #flashfiction


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW:

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Credit: Joy Pixley

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“When you’re down and out / When you’re on the street / When evening falls so hard /I will comfort you (ooo) / I’ll take your part, oh, when darkness comes / And pain is all around / Like a bridge over troubled water / I will lay me down / Like a bridge over troubled water / I will lay me down.” – “Bridge Over Troubled Water” – Simon and Garfunkel 

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Wes called up to a young woman sitting on the bridge ledge. 

He gulped and climbed up beside her, assessing her. She shook her head, “I’m not here to jump, it’s only peaceful up here.” 

He settled beside the woman on edge. “I’m Wes,” he said, “I’m not a fan of heights. I don’t understand how you can sit here and find it tranquil.” 

She laughed, “I’m Becca, Wes. Scoot back and look at everything from this gorgeous view.” 

“See, the moon’s a giant light in the sky illuminating everything so the bridge doesn’t feel eerie at night. Now, look at the water below you.” 

He peered down: “I see darkness, turbulence, and fear. I see a river where too many people have jumped and drowned in.”

“You see this bridge as dangerous Wes. But without the bridge, no one would get across to the otherside. Without people in our life–our friends, loved ones, God, helpful strangers –we wouldn’t make it through troubled waters.

“Yeah, I know Becca,” he said.”It’s like the song by Simon and Garfunkel.” 

“Sometimes, we help ourselves, with a little effort.” 

“What?” 

“You stopped yourself, having every intention of jumping before you saw me,” Becca said gently. 

You saved me Becca,”  Wes admitted. 

She shook her head and smiled, disintegrating. He gasped, carefully, moving off the ledge onto the bridge’s walkway. 

Wes ran home; he had hope.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

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Friday Fictioneer: Gone For A Swim #flashfiction #amwriting


Thank you to Rochelle Wisoff for hosting FF. 

Credit: CEAyr

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 “You don’t ever come out here on this balcony alone, don’t open the doors, and no going into the river,” Sandra told her daughters sternly. 

“Why Mommy?” Mia and Ilah asked. 

“You can’t swim my dears. If you fall into the river you’ll drown. Mommy would be so sad without her girls.” 

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A day into vacation, Sandra left briefly to buy sandwiches for Mia and Ilah.  

As soon as their Mom left, the girls unlocked the balcony doors and pulling a chair outside, both of them climbed up onto the balcony ledge. 

“Want to go in?” Ilah asked Mia. She nodded and they held each others’ hands and jumped. 

 Sandra returned to hear her girls’ screams. She dove in the river to save them but it was of no use. 

Tears mixed with water as she realized, her daughters were gone. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.  

Poem: A Touch of Whimsy 


If were to choose the way we go, do we decide on a whim or a calculated thought?

Do we think in rays of colours and decisions weighed upon indecisions of the past? Do we lay out a plan with direction, not leave anything to chance?

I think I prefer to say ‘ Come what may,’ and handle the onslaught of the future when I am hurdling forward on the the road of life; having planned some things, I’d like to leave a bit to chance.

To swallow my doubts, and insecurities. To ride on the edge provided that I have a safety net. Or slip over the ledge and fly in the bluest sky, you’ve ever seen.

I think that there is risk in life and you can decide all you like but if you don’t put your feet in the ocean and stand your ground as the waves crash in, you’re missing something, a piece of mystery. 

It’s important to think, to weigh the scales that we must, to concretely choose to make a move, or to let the world turn around another day without interference.

We can’t control everything, we can ask all the questions and have all the answers, but if you don’t swim in the waves and look into the whirlpool, you lose;  there is a special knowledge revealed there. 

So squirm in delight in the first sunlight. And decide what you must when you must choose. But leave room for whimsy and a touch of moonlight.