Three Line Tales/Saturday Mix: The Decayed Farm House #amwriting #3LineTales #SaturdayMix #flashfiction


Thanks to Sonya from Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales. Also thank you to Sarah from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting Saturday Mix. This week her Double Take homophones are: band – a musical group and bannedforbidden; cent – one hundredth of a dollar, scent – an aroma, and sent – dispatched.


Credit: Thomas Shellberg via Unsplash


A person can catch the voices of yesterday in the stars where the decayed farm house sags, where a band sings, playing the fiddle, and the scent of bread lingers with rotting wood; King George pennies are scattered on the floor, one cent coins forgotten with a monarch dead, no longer minted with the current Queen, Elizabeth II.

The prairie nights of old linger here, where joy and sorrow blend with relief, moving from a run-down house banned, deemed unsafe by housing inspection; a gleaming modern farmhouse replaces it nearby, but the old one is left to rot with a sense of nostalgia from the farmer’s elderly father.

A person can picture the dances and parties, dead relatives and friends sitting around the table, the young boys sent out to chase the horses who’d escaped the field, into the neighbors pastures; the past clings to this house as it does to the stars above, both from a time long forgotten.


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

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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

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Photo Challenge: Fiction – Dawn of Daylight #amwriting #fiction


Thank you to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this challenge and a card/picture which is centered around the sun and it’s use as a metaphor in life. 

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http://www.wallpaperup.com

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It’s early morning and the sky is tinged with an inky darkness. Out of the east brilliant colour begins to emerge. First the sky lightens, the navy washing out into a paler blue. The sun goddess brings a purplish hue to the sky which then begins to blaze with citrus orange; a red-pink hue completes the spectacular sunset. The goddess knows the sailors will complain about the pink hue; the suspicious lot of them. 

She watches the sunrise, in all nature’s artistry, from washed out watercolour to colours aflame in brilliant acrylic. The colours become more pigmented and the sky itself turns cheery sky blue and the brilliance of the sunrise is replaced by the promise of a new day. A soft yellow glow on everything outside, reminding the goddess of the smell of lemons and a distinct feeling of happiness. 

She spots her treasured swing in her secret garden. The fall leaves of tangerine orange, blazing gold, and brazen red, match her sunrise well. The goddess steps through the coloured leaves and walks to the swing. It’s warm enough that many flowers are yet blooming and some of the Autumn colours are enhanced by the grassy green of summer, holding on despite a chill arising as winter whispers. 

Roses decorate the sun goddess ropes on her swing as she kicks out ageless beautiful shapely legs, then kicks her legs underneath her wodden swing. She keeps her pace gentle, pumping her legs at leisure and watching the sun provide hope to this part of the world; the renewal of light. 

The blue sky is awesome and many people are out walking their dogs. It’s early and only the dogs see the goddess swimging. They approach her for a scratch and a hidden treat. Their kisses lap her face as she tries to avoid getting licked on the mouth. The goddess grins when the dogs wagging their tales, return to their owners, sniffing through the gathering of leaves on the sidewalk. 

She lingers on the swing longer than she should. But there is a certain peacefulness in the morning hours she needs to make it through the day. She mentally calculates how much time she has, not long; other places in the world are eager to see the sunrise too. Yet in the cool of the morning air the goddess sighs. 

Here is an enchanted place ready to see the crystal clearness daylight reveals, unconcealing those who hide in darkness. But in other places, darkness is safer, for in daylight there is no delight but harm as the shadows themselves strive to suck away the light. The sun goddess smiles because the sun always rises, the shadows never win. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

B&P’s Shadorma and Beyond Challenge: “To the Fall Leaves” #amwriting #poetry 


Thank you to MindLovesMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s challenge on Fall and D.H. Lawrence’s poem about Fall called: “Autumn Rain.” 

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Credit: Forbes Travel Guide

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Crinkled Leaves, 

Whisper past my cheek, 

Twist in hair, 

On the ground, 

Disperse in my hand, fragments, 

Not one leaf — thousands. 

—–

The scent Fall —

Gives, lingers of rot.

It’s acrid

Yet pleasant. 

Dessication, fragrance breathe;

A nip in the air. 

—–

Floating leaves, 

Linger around trees, 

Dropping as —

One passes, 

Realize everything has —

A time to live and die.

——-

Brush strokes of, 

Deep scarlet and orange —

As pumpkins, 

Yellow as —

Butterscotch dripping and warm, 

Oozing to the ground.

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Feet crunching, 

Leaves underfoot and twigs, 

From trees mix, 

With their birth–

Place; such twigs sprung with green leaves, 

There weight is now shed.

——

Arises, 

The wind, blowing such –

Skeletons, 

They were lush, 

Now, they are gone, murmuring —

Winters chill and scorn.

——

Yet such a —

Beauty one does not —

See, but in —

The Fall when, 

Leaves cover pathways, hint at — 

Fascinating old dreams. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.