Animals/Pets, Books, Children/YA/Family, Fairy Tale Themed, Fiction, Flash Fiction, My Thoughts, Nature, Sunday Photo Fiction, Writing, Writing Challenges

Sunday Photo Fiction: A Touch Too Mad #amwriting #Wonderland #flashfiction


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF on August 27, 2017

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Credit: Dawn M. Miller

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“What’s this new game we’re playing?” Alice brushed back her hair. 

“You’re all out here with teacups balanced on chair legs. What’s going on?”

The White Rabbit checked his pocket watch. “It’s time for tea, right now.”

The March Hare laughed, “Such an interesting game. Good thing the Door Mouse is on hiding in a teapot.”

Alice stomped her foot.”Really, explain yourselves!” 

She heard a maniacal laugh. “Oh, Hatter. There you are. I was getting worried.”

The Mad Hatter bowed, “Yes, my girl, you’re right on time. Now where is your pistol?”

“Pistol? I’m twelve! What do I need a pistol  for?”

“To shoot the teacups and what’s inside them,” said the March Hare.

“This is even crazy for you guys. Wait! What’s inside them?”

The Hatter removed his favorite silk hat. “Oh, you’ll love it! We shrunk them down, put a drop in their tea.”

“What have you done, Hatter? Rabbit, you need to tell me immediately.”

The White Rabbit removed his pocket watch and vest. “We shrank the cards, three hearts, of course.”

The Mad Hatter laughed, “The best part isn’t the cards it’s the Queen.”

“The Queen of hearts?”

“Yes, Alice,” said Hatter. “Do you know what cup she’s in?”

Alice’s eyes grew round. She cringed as the March Hare took his first shot missing. Then the Mad Hatter shot his pistol shattering a tea cup. 

He handed Alice his pistol.”Here you are now. Only two cups left and a fifty- fifty chance you’ll hit the queen.”

Her face went white. Alice starred into the Mad Hatter’s crazed eyes and swallowed. 

When did Wonderland become so insane? 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Animals/Pets, Books, Children/YA/Family, Fairy Tale Themed, Fiction, History, Italian Sonnet - Iambic Pentameter - Octave (abbaabba) - Sestet (cdcdcd), Memories/Childhood, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, NaPoWriMo, Nature, Poetry, Quotes, Tale Weavers Fiction/Poetry, Writing, Writing Challenges

Day 15 – NaPoWriMo/A to Z Challenge/Tale Weavers: Poem – Italian Sonnets – “Unbirthday Hell En Medias Res” #poetry #NaPoWriMo #AtoZchallenge #taleweavers


Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is to write poem in the middle of things en medias res. The A to Z Challenge GoodRead’s Quote is for the letter N. The Tale Weavers Prompt courtesy of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie is to write about an unbirthday. 

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Credit: Not on The HighStreet Enterprises – http://www.notonthehighstreet.com

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I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests. — Pablo Neruda

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Serve me tea and cut the cake quickly please,

Ensure my tea is cold with no odd hares. 

Or rabbit fur, or door mouse flees their. 

My unbirthday, she is here — the tease

She comes most everyday to say ‘breathe!’ 

You’re not old yet, many unbirthdays left,

Hold your years close to your beating chest.

You look like twenty-five, oh please

Each and everyday there is chocolate cake, 

Loud parties; a mad hatter who is weird,

Yes, the craziesness gets to me some days.

The party is brilliant, but I always peer,

For an escape home en medias res. 

Alice is happy with one birthday day. 

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So back to the town, back to my hills, 

No more unbirthdays? Mind left reeling;

Alice’s leaving Wonderland? Sad feeling. 

Pictures on walls here are hung straight — be still, 

To think on leafy forests dear, woods filled. 

The voice of the rain as it falls and it glows, 

But I’m too drawn to rabbit holes at will. 

Back amidst glamorous parties thrown, 

Having left peace a mere second ago, 

The town brook,  seems a mellenia’s dream.

Same crew in Wonderland serving tea. 

Too hot, too cold, to much cake makes me grow, 

Back to unbirthday hell — un medias res. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Fairy Tale Themed, Fiction, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Relationship, Writing, Writing Challenges

Photo (Collage) Prompt: Adventures in Wonderland Continued #amwriting #fiction 


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s collage photo prompt.


collage31
MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

“Think left and think right and think low and think high. Oh, the thinks/things you can think up if only you try!”

― Dr. Seuss


Alice was growing older and she hadn’t been to Wonderland in years. Yet, she had not forgotten the lessons she learned there. 

She was an imaginative girl, so much so her mother could not figure out where Alice came up with her fanciful ideas. 

But Alice’s mother adored her daughter so she let her creativity run free, including playing outside and having tea with her imaginary friends.

While having tea, Alice talked to the Mad Hatter, the White Rabbit, the Door Mouse, and March Hair. Often, she talked to a smoking Catipillar, whom her mother naturally disapproved of. But Alice only laughed at her mother saying: 

” Why the Caterpillar needs the medicine he smokes. He’s in a great deal of pain becoming a butterfly.” 

 Alice’s mother had been making ice tea in a pitcher as it was summer. Alice didn’t know what to do at first, her friends enjoyed hot tea. But she determined after a while, they would have to make do with ice tea. She poured the cold tea into her prized teapot. 

She brought the tea to the marigolds and dandilions in the field by her house and poured the cold tea at the base of all her flower friends. She even brought them a few cookies, which she crumbled around their stems.

Sometimes Alice liked to sit out in the field and read. She brought out a fancy white cushioned chair from the parlour to a field of grass and flowers. She sat there considering life and paging through a novel. She was wearing a hat her grandma had given her to keep the sun from her face. 

Alice fell asleep outside in the chair and dreamed she was in Wonderland. She dreamt she had eaten bread to make her big and tall. 

She found herself next to a curious house with the appearance of a giant 🍐 pear ; it had a small red door with steps going down to the grass below. 

There was a handsome Raven sitting on the house, opposite of where Alice stood. She placed her ear against the house, trying to hear if anyone was inside. 

“You won’t find anyone in there,” the Raven told Alice.

“But why wouldn’t they be at home?” Alice asked. “Its Wonderland, creatures here don’t go to work even if they’re adults. Besides, wouldn’t a mother or wife be at home?” 

“I wouldn’t quite call them adults and it’s presumptuous to think all women should stay at home.” 

“If they’re not adults, how come they have a house?” Alice wondered. She looked back to the Raven, “I only thought the wife or mother  might be home because she could be like my mother who stays home.” 

Alice sat down, reaching towards the small red doorway of the pear 🍐 house; it was locked up tight. “Why is the door locked? Who would break into their home here? My father never locks our door.” 

The Raven chuckled in the weird way birds do, “I think they are avoiding unwanted guests of giant proportions.” 

“Also, I think you’re forgetting everyone needs something to do in the day, work or otherwise. We all have tasks, seasons of life to experience, even in Wonderland.”

“Seasons of life?” Alice asked confused. “Well, what season am I in? I don’t feel young, but I’m certainly not old. I’m only nine. But since coming to Wonderland years ago, I think of things adults don’t even consider.”

The Raven squawked, continuing to chuckle. 

“Hmmm,” Alice said, “It only occurred to me, no one ever told me why a Raven is like a writing desk?” 

The Raven ignored Alice but began to whistle a discordant tune.

“That’s awful,” Alice said but he continued his song. 

When he stopped he peered with little black eyes at Alice, “See everyone has a song to sing. Not everyone thinks their neighbour’s song is pretty, but it’s their song and so they must sing it.”

“It is the same with the creatures in this pear 🍐 house. They are off singing their life song, doing what they feel they are meant to do in life, in this season.” 

“Each part of life has a song,” the Raven said. “I hear you singing your song when you’re out in the fields having tea with your Wonderland friends, using your imagination. You’re in the spring of life and your song is lovely and new.”

“But,” continued the Raven, “I am in the Winter of my life. I’ve had many children and I am old, but I sing my song anyways. Even when we are old, we have a purpose and must sing our own song.” 

Alice thought a long while about the seasons, singing, and what the Raven told her. Then she smiled, ” I understand what you mean now. But do you think you and the owners of this pear 🍐 house would mind joining my other Wonderland friends and myself for tea?” 

The Raven cawed laughing at Alice. He nodded his little black head and flew away. 

The next moment, Alice awoke and found herself sleeping in her mother’s plush parlour chair out in the grassy field. Her mother looked down on her gently and smoothed Alice’s hair: 

“Alice there you are. Oh, my good chair. It’s white and you’ve got dirt and grass all over it,” mother said sternly. 

Alice sleepily smiled and said,” I was in Wonderland and talking to a Raven about the songs we each sing in life in different seasons. I’m sorry about the chair Mama.”

Her mother shook her head sighing and ruffled Alice’s hair, “Oh you and Wonderland. Will you ever grow out if it? Little girls will be attending school again in Fall.”

Alice sighed and helped her mother bring the chair back into the house to be cleaned. She decided to visit the roses in the backyard later.

Aluce had told her mother many strange stories about red roses. So much so, Alice’s mother gave her the job of watering and caring for the roses in the garden; she babied her roses. She didn’t want anyone to think she’d been painting her roses and that they weren’t truly red — that always led to problems. 

She wondered about what season of life the roses and all the flowers in the field were in? What was their purpose except to be beautiful? Alice began to hum the particular song of the flowers, watering her roses and caring for them. 

Suddenly, she remembered it was her birthday in a week. She would be ten-years-old; how could she forget? She must go inside the house and remind her mother she needed more bowls to match her tea set. 

For a moment Alice sighed thinking about school beginning soon. Children at school didn’t understand her much. Often, they knew less about things than many adults. Girls at school sang their own songs and Alice as usual, sang a unique tune. 


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved

May Day Prompts, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Pinterest, Poetry, Quotes, Tanka - 5,7,5,7,7 syllables, Writing

Maydays: Poem – Tankas – “The Best Kind of Mad.” #Maydays #amwriting 



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Thank you to K.L. Caley from new2writing for hosting #Maydays prompts. Today’s prompt is good madness. 

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http://www.pinterest.com

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I love that you have that —

Good madness, a bit of quirk.

Laughing and smiling, 

I’d rather have you a bit crazed, 

I worry when you’re lost, sad.

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When you’re mad I know you’re —

Alive; your heart beating genius. 

Found in Wonderland, 

Where my favourite Alice went, 

Your my Mad Hatter; my match.

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Not everyone would get —

Your peculiar mind which bends, forms.

Brilliant, but held, 

By societies normal.

I love your real craziness.

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Genuinely you, 

I never worry you’re fake.

You always reveal, 

A hint of absurdity, 

You finish my sentences.

—–

Your crazy begins,

It meets with my own and we’re —

Blessed to be us; home.

In our otherly world lost, 

We are the best kind of mad.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Books, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Movie Reviews, My Thoughts, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Travel, Writing

Moral Monday`s Flash Fiction: The White Rabbit is Late


Thank you to Nortina from Lovely Curses for hosting the Moral Monday`s challenge. This week`s moral is: ” Better Late Than Never.” Excuse the lateness of this 100 word offering.


White Rabbit Alice and Wonderland
The White Rabbit – Alice in Wonderland – (www.underscoopfire.com)

 

Alice was waiting for the White Rabbit. In all her time in Wonderland, Alice couldn’t remember the White Rabbit having ever not been, exactly on time.

Alice began tapping the toes of her maryjane’s on the road. That intolerable sweeping dog was at it again, sweeping the path away.

“White Rabbit where are you?” Alice called. They were hours late for tea and the Mad Hatter would be crazy upset.

Exhausted, the White Rabbit arrived. Blood streaked his snowy fur.

Alice gasped, “What happened?”

“Hunters,” he said. “You humans and your hunters.”


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Movie Reviews, Nonfiction, Quotes, Short Stories And Serial Stories

One to Three Quotes in Three Days – All At Once.


Thank you to Mayankk Sharma for nominating for the One to Three Quotes in Three Days Challenge. I’m going to do all the quotes at once, it’s much easier and less time consuming. I think this is round three of the challenge for me. I’m going to give  quotes from a couple of my favourite books Alice in Wonderland and Alice Through The Looking Glass. 

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My nominees for the Quotes Challenge:

A. In Medias Res by Melinda Kucsera a talented writer of fantasy and poetry.

B. Simply Marquessa by Marquessa Matthews a wonderful writer of romance and thrilling fiction.

C. Days of Stone by Ryan Stone a fabulous poet.

D. What The Woman Wrote by Annie a great person and talented poetess.

E. Lucky Otter’s Haven by Luck Otter a blog providing information on those struggling with mental illness and asking/answering important questions in life.

F. Steps Times Two by MKvecchito another talented poetess.

Please participate if you have the time. But don’t feel as if you have to participate if you’re swamped. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Clerihew- aabb, My Thoughts, Poetry, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Poem: Clerihews: My Try at a Three. 


A Clerihew is a comic verse consisting of two couplets and a specific rhyming scheme, aabb invented by Edmund Clerihew Bentley (1875-1956) at the age of 16. The poem is about/deals with a person/character within the first rhyme. In most cases, the first line names a person, and the second line ends with something that rhymes with the name of the person.

Please see Shadow Poetry here.

 

http://www.thestar.com
 
Justin Trudeau the new Canadian Primeminister

Got Liberal seats, in a land coloured Tory blue, how sinister. 

He lives at 24 Sussex Drive, high class.

Giving tax breaks to the middle class.

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http://www.nhl.com
 
The hero of the Edmonton Oilers McDavid

Broke his collar bone; but this Christmas he skated.

He’s our number one draft pick and scores the goals.

Racing to the net of the other team, right through the five-hole. 

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http://www.mashable.com
 
We all know Alice in Wonderland,

Was only a child, when she saw a white rabbit with watch in hand. 

She fell into the rabbits hole and ate cake that made her grow.

Meant a Mad Hatter, a March hare, made the Queen of Heart’s head blow. 

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved. 

Free Verse, My Thoughts, Poetry, Quotes, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Poem: “The Best People Are Mad.”


Prompt:

Write whatever you normally write about, and weave in a book quote, film quote, or song lyric that’s been sticking with you this week.
  
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I think if you looked around you and plucked the thoughts out of the head of everyone that surrounds you,

You would be scared to find out what they think. You might think: ” But I don’t want go among mad people.”

And I would reply: “Oh you can’t help that. We’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.” Your face is turning red now. You don’t believe what I say. 

“How do you know I’m mad?” You may ask me. And I would laugh until the tears streamed down my face at such questions from a child.

“You must be [mad]. Or you wouldn’t have come here.” It’s my best reply. It doesn’t give the answers you desire but I’m in no mood for your questions now. 

You may wonder where here is. Well a lot of people wonder about that. Yet here they are infront of me asking me if they’re mad. Of course, you’re mad. 

But I have an excellent answer to your question when you ask me a second time: “Have I gone mad?”I would tell you,” I’m afraid so. But let me tell you something. All the best people are.”

So if you’re still thinking about all the thoughts in all the minds around you. I suggest you stop and if you are a mind reader, only read the minds of someone who is mad. They are the only ones who truly understand.

It takes a little madness to truly comprehend. That life can be so fun and there are possibilities everywhere. Madness is a quality that I seek in everybody. Call it genius, eccentricity, craziness, or call it creativity. I call it madness. And it is fantastic! 

(Quotes from Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll, on GoodReads.)

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved. 

Flash Fiction, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Sunday Photo Fiction: Wonderland 


Alicia Baker was going for her regular Sunday morning run into the river valley when she came upon a large white rabbit sitting still. The rabbit turned to look at her and stared at Alicia as he wiggled his nose. It was then she noticed a pocket watch clipped to his fur and if she was really honest, Alicia would tell you she thought the rabbit was inclining his head at her as if he wanted her to follow him. But Alicia would never admit to such imaginary notions. 

She picked up speed in her Lululemon running pants and top and started to run away from the rabbit. All was well until she stumbled onto a large hole in the ground. She stood at the prepice of the hole when that strange white rabbit with his pocket watch stood up and pushed her in the hole. 

Memories assaulted Alicia as she fell forever ending up in a familiar place she couldn’t quite identify. She saw the white rabbit again and angrily cried, “Wait.” But the rabbit kept pace ahead of her and as she followed it she heard a dreaded voice, a voice she hoped to never hear again. 

” Whose been painting my roses red?” 

Alicia now fully aware where she had fallen to, imagined roasting a rabbit over a spit. She ran her hands through her blond hair in frustration and remembering it was her unbirthday stomped off in search of a Mad Hatter, in need of cakes and tea. She’d done it again, she’d fallen into Wonderland.

  
Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting Sunday Photo Fiction.