Photo Challenge: Nonfiction – Waffles and Spaghetti: Men and Their Boxes #nonfiction #relationship 


Thank you to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s photo challenge prompt. 

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Rob. Woodcox

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A popular dating guide I read years ago was called Men are Like Waffles –Woman Like Spaghetti By Bill and Pam Farrel.  Oddly enough this dating guide was first published in 1959 and then republished in 2001. Sometimes the guide is downright old fashioned and other times it gives some extremely wise advise. 

One part which always stuck out for me was the title of the book and why exactly men are like waffles and women like spaghetti. The above image from reminds me of these analogies. 

Just as waffles have all those small squares in them or boxes so do men in how they organize their life. Each area of their life is a box and never shall two boxes meet. A man’s work or his job is one box and his kids maybe another box. His wife and his relationship with her is another box and so is his fixation on fixing old cars or spending time chilling out watching Netflix or the hockey game on TV.

Woman on the other hand, are like spaghetti because everything in their lives is mixed with everything else going on in their lives. Each thing is connected and affects other things. For instance, if a woman is stressed out at work and her boss is riding her tail to finish a project, this might make the woman angry and moody at home because she has to hold it all in at work. Her kids know something is up and stay away from Mom and she feels rejected. 

Suddenly, she needs to clean everything in the house and is making the kids clean up too. Cleaning in this instance, makes her feel better because she is in control and able to accomplish something. At work she feels she cannot accomplish what she needs at the moment. Then Mom is upset at her kids because they are not doing a thorough cleaning job. At home, Mom’s the boss. 

Her husband comes into the great room to see what’s up with all the noise and cleaning on a late week night. He and his wife start talking and she’s mad at him and picking fights over him leaving his laundry on the floor and not texting her back at work today. 

She tells her husband she doesn’t have time to clean up after him, she’s really busy at work and no she can’t come to his work event. She can’t possibly make idol conversation with that weird woman her husband works with and seems to always want to talk to her right now, it would push her over the edge. Disatisfaction at work is effecting her whole life. 

A smart husband would realize something is up and talk his dear wife through things until he hits on the real issue. Or better yet, let his wife talk until she gets down to the real issue. After voicing her feelings, his wife will be happier and more relaxed.

On the other hand, her husband doesn’t understand completely why his wife needs to talk things out and why everything in her life effects everything else. 

His life is in boxes (apparently naked high up in trees) so when the work box gets to stressful, he goes to the box where he can tinker with the car he’s rebuilding. Work doesn’t effect him here, in fact, this box may help the husband think things through or gain perspective on issues he could be having at work or say the fight he had with his wife.

So all you men in your boxes, let your ladies talk it out and if they won’t, encourage them to talk when they’re ready. I know you don’t get this whole talking just because you need to thing, but actually you’re helping your woman find the root of a problem to deal with it. And that makes you a problem solver with a happier life and wife. 

Ladies, let your guy tinker, watch sports, or whatever when he’s stressed. He’s not as vocal as you and he’s thinking things through or giving himself a break from stress. He’s in his box and it’s giving him reprieve from his problem because he’s not in that work box or in another stressful box. When he’s ready he’ll say something, what he’s decided or after a while if he’s not a talker, you can encourage him to talk or outright ask him what’s up. Better not to to be too subtle

So that is the most memorable and important thing I learned from this book. Do you think it’s true in your own life? In anyone’s life? Or is it an outdated model from an old dating guide? 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved

Poem: A L’Arora – “Lover’s Afternoon” #amwriting #poetry #relationships


A L’Arora, a form created by Laura Lamarca, consists of 8-lined stanzas. The rhyme scheme for this form is a, b, c, d, e, f, g, f with no syllable count per line. The minimum length for the poem is 4 stanzas with no maximum length stipulation. The A L’Arora is named after Laura Lamarca as “La” is her signature. “Aurora” is Italian and means “dawn” – “Arora” is derived from this. This form is dedicated to Chad Edwards.

Please see Shadow Poetry for more information.

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http://www.pinterest.com

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Two of us, we one world in us create.

Timelessness, a feeling we want not to escape.

Not minding how seconds bleed, seemlessly into hours;

Our exploration, decadent; our time spent, 

Meandering paths on skin, journeys in memory well preserved.

The lazy summer days completed, wrapped in your arms hold.

Connection of body, mimics engagement to heart.

I’m safe; limbs meshing with yours, arms hold.

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Your each finger wandering my skin, I anticipate, 

In kind, returning the favour; your body I sate.

We two beings, unity forming; while it pours, rain showers.

Rain the melody; bliss an aspiring presence.

Leaving fire in my path, past your hip bones swerve,

Wetness of your mouth past my stomach, bold.

Can’t protect my heart but wisdom of touch you impart,

No hiding; you perceive my naked soul, so I’m bold.

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Enthralling euphoria of twilight; I burn, don’t wait.

Kissing shoulder blades; your cheekbones carved of slate, 

Breasts, hands take your fill; lips rapturous devour.

Stroking limbs, both are hands spark, pleasure sensual.

Evocative areas found, your body with desire I observe;

Tongue tracing small of my back; gratified, I won’t withhold.

Laughter, exchange; the language of touch, adoringly imparted.

Revelling in silken skin, with you as no other; nothing I withhold.

——

Our minutes keep stretching; nipping skin, heat burns, captivated.

Bodies combined, as moths to the flame; cannot hunger sate.

Sure hands, wandering mouth; inbetween, all around, retains prowess, 

Your body never leaving me; your kisses across fragile skin ascend, 

 Scared to be known, body, spirit, heart; you’ve me without reserve.

Tender eyes see through me, arms defined, clasp me tight, enfold; 

Ages later, we’re dressed, faces on; a soul wrenching kiss; you depart, 

My lover safekeep; our lives in each other, now enfold.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Writing 101: Fiction – Part 3 – After the Plane Crash #everydayinspiration


Today’s Writing 101 prompt is to write on a Tweet. Here’s the Tweet I chose: Twitter Quote


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Please read part 2 here.

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“I’m fine,” I tell Eric trapped in the shower. “Can I have a little privacy. I was only relaxing, the hot shower feels good on my body. I was dirty and sore.” 

“I can understand that,” Eric said. “I was scared you’d hurt yourself on the way to the bathroom. Aunt Tabitha said you were weak and hadn’t even sat up in bed yet.”

“I’m good,” I say awkwardly still trying to cover my nakedness. I don’t know why I bothered. Eric didn’t seem to care I was naked, only that I hadn’t hurt myself.

“Walking was fine, I managed. I couldn’t leave my hair in the state it was in any longer.” 

Eric chuckled and he opened a tall cupboard in the bathroom removing an oversized plush pale blue towel and a smaller towel as well. He hung them over the glass shower. I was happy the glass wasn’t completely see through due to the steam from the shower.

“Thanks,” I told Eric, grabbing both towels and immediately wrapping myself in the larger one. I arranged my dripping locks into a twist in the smaller towel.

Slowly, I opened up the shower door and slipped out. Eric was staring at me with bright jade green eyes. A half smile curved his lips when he took in my appearance.

“You seem better.The shower helped a great deal.” Eric surmised, ” Aunt Tabitha had an appointment in the city, so she couldn’t be here. Turns out it was a good day for her to be away since you have your strength back . . . Do you think you could tell me your name now?” 

I blushed for some reason, looking down at my feet. I needed a pedicure I thought before peering back at Eric. 

“I’m Ashlyn Howard,” I say shyly. I hold onto my towel with one hand and offer Eric my other hand. 

Amused, he carefully takes my smaller hand in his and shakes it gently. His hand is rough and as our eyes met, I feel a spark, a sensation between us I wasn’t expecting.

“I’m Eric, but you already knew that Ashlyn. We tried many times to find out your name in order to contact your family this week. But you were always so out of it. I couldn’t find your wallet or ID in your back pack.” 

“Yeah, I felt caught between waking up in this room feeling awful seeing your Aunt Tabitha watching me, and then I would dream again about my friend and the crash . ..” I explained. “I should try and get in touch with my family as soon as it’s possible.” 

Eric nodded.”There’s no wifi or internet out here I’m afraid. No cell towers or landline. I have a few satellite phones and that’s about it. We can call your parents after you’ve had a chance to change and rest. Do you have a boyfriend you want to call too, a husband?” 

“Um, no I’m single,” I say blushing. Eric smiles a at me. I feel comfortable around Eric I realize,  as if I weren’t standing outside the bathroom wrapped in towels. 

“I heard about the crash. It was in the news papers. I don’t know how you survived two weeks out in the wilderness. You lost a good bit of weight I think and you fainted on my doorstep from hunger and lack of sleep.” Eric explained.

” I remember. Your PA greeted me and I had nothing in me left. Is it true you manufactur hemp products and sell weed for medical usage?” 

Eric laughed. “Um, mostly that is what I do. I have a license to sell marajauna for medical purposes from the Canadian government. Our weed is top quality. So are the other products we sell made from hemp. A beauty line and some other things.”

 Eric changed the subject.” You need some clothes that fit. I had Aunt Tabitha order you some. She has some daughters about your age so she knew what to buy.” Eric remarked, opening a bleached wooden wardrobe filled with clothes.

“There’s bath stuff and cosmetics in the bathroom as you probably saw.” I gasped, noticing on the price tags of some of the clothes, that they were expensive. Hundreds of dollars and more. I wondered why Eric was being so nice to me.

I glanced at Eric, able to look my fill as he stared out the window for a moment. Eric was hot. Dark brown hair cut in the latest short style, mussed as he ran his hand through it. 

His jade green eyes were beguiling and a he had a wide smile made with sultry lips. His jaw was strong and angular and he seemed to have forgotten to shave today. 

Eric wore dark relaxed jeans, rips in the knees, and a fitted Lecoste golf shirt. Underneath, I knew he was built.

Eric noticed me checking him out and smiled at me. I flushed red and he laughed.”It’s good to meet you Ashyln. I was worried you would die, your fever and sickness were quite bad the doctor told us. It was lucky you found my place when you did.. . Do you need help changing into your clothes? Your wrist is sprained and I know you’re covered in bruises from the shower so . ..”

“You looked!” I accused Eric. He only grinned.

“You left the bathroom door open and the shower was glass. How could I not look?” 

” You could’ve pretended not to.”

“Don’t be embarrassed you’re beautiful. Even if you’re a bit skinny right now,” Eric said laughing. 

He was teasing me, trying to make light of the situation. I blushed at his praise peering up at him and for a moment my dark eyes caught his jade ones and locked in place. 

The air between us sizzled and Eric stepped towards me, brushing a long wet strand of my hair behind my ear. My breathing increased, my body ignited. Heat spread everywhere as Eric cupped my face and ran his thumbs over my cheeks. 

I could smell him, a light woodsy citrus scent and man, together overpowering my senses. His mouth hovered closer, I couldn’t breathe. His breathe was warm on my cheek his lips dropping a small kiss there before gently settling his on my mouth. Warm, explorative kisses, pressed against my lips and made me yearn for more. 

I bit Eric’s bottom lip, soothing it with my tongue and he dived in, claiming my mouth still gentle but with a need behind his kiss now, tangling his tongue with mine; teasing the roof of my mouth before sucking on my tongue. 

I fell against him and his hands smoothed down my body to my arms and back. When his hands brushed and massaged the sensitive skin and muscles around my neck I moaned completely giving into what was coming. Eric made my sore muscles feel so loose.

The smaller towel slipped from my hair as Eric’s fingers sorted through and grasped my long brown tresses. “God, you smell so good,” he rasped before kissing me harder, with more fervour. “It’s the jasmine,” I say between biting kisses.

 Eric’s hand lands on my hand holding in place my large towel. I was ready to let the towel drop. Sparks were creating an inferno inside of me kissing Eric.

It was then, Aunt Tabitha came in through the bedroom door, loudly, slamming it behind her. 

Eric and I sprung apart but it was clear what we’d been up to. Aunt Tabitha smirked. “Eric you’re needed downstairs.”

“What?” 

“There’s a phone call for you on one of the satallite phones. Your PA said you needed to take this one.”

“Now?” Eric stared at me, his jade eyes smouldering and his breathing fast. He shook his head, blinking. He gave me a final look and a small kiss on the cheek, before striding out the bedroom door.

I gazed at Aunt Tabitha, the woman who’d been caring for me and I was sure she could see my face was red. She only laughed at my embarrassment.

“It’s okay. Eric’s a handsome guy and you’re a beautiful women. He doesn’t see many beautiful women around here.” I flushed again, conscience I was still in my towel.

“I should get dressed,” I said, “I’m Ashlyn by the way.” 

“Ashlyn,” it suits you Aunt Tabitha remarked. “You know my name from when you were sick, you called out for me quite often. I’m happy to say you appear healthy. But you are quite thin since we brought you into the house even.”

“I’ll meet you in the kitchen downstairs in forty-five-minutes. The kitchen staff will have some filling food which won’t make you sick because you haven’t been eating much but soup.”

“Thanks Aunt Tabitha. I appreciate it. Eric said I could phone my parents too?” I asked.

“I’ll let Eric help you with that Ashlyn. I’m sure he’ll want to spend more time with you and I don’t want to interrupt. But he is my nephew, so be gentle with him. His past was a rough one.” I nodded smiling at Aunt Tabitha, trying to show I wouldn’t hurt Eric.

“I’m just in the room down the hall.” She said, ” You seem a great deal better having showered and um, having having been busy with my nephew, but don’t overdue it. You were pretty ill their for a week.” 

Aunt Tabitha left my room and I turned towards my new wardrobe, sorting through my it with appreciation. 

A thought came to me as I tried on a bright purple sundress, where was I exactly that there was no wifi, cell phone reception, or landlines? I had a few questions that needed answering.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Maydays: Fiction – Part 2 – After The Plane Crash #Maydays


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Thanks to K.L. Caley of new2writing for hosting #Mayday prompts. Today’s theme is a battle or fight of some kind. Also, Part 2 of a continuing series After The Plane Crash. Read Part 1 here. The battle I’m showing is the main characters fight through her fever and aches from being lost in the wild two weeks.

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Please read Part 1 here.

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“Young lady are you awake.” A woman’s voice whispered to me quietly. “What’s your name?”

I make a noise, not wanting to leave the land of my dreams. It’s safe and peaceful here. Danny is with me and we’re drinking a beer together like old times. I know my friend is not real but I don’t want to admit to myself in my dreams; Danny is dead.

A gentle hand feels my forehead. “She has a high fever. I’m not surprised being out in the wilderness that long. She’s sweating. I think it was an excellent thing the doctor got here so fast and we were able to hook her up to an IV to get some fluid and nutrition into her body.”

 The woman’s voice was soft and sensible. She sounded like the voice of a lady who was a mother. She smoothed back my hair and I sighed in my state of half sleep. I was cold and sweating at the same time. Iceness overcame me and I shivered trying to pull plush blankets around me as I sweated.

“Aunt Tabitha, what can we do? If we keep giving her the IV as the doctor said, and introduce her to some soup and other food in a few days, do you think she’ll be alright?” 

The voice I heard speaking was the deep male voice I had heard before I passed out. The voice had a rich timber, it sounded young and attractive. 

A small smile shaped my lips, then I groaned as cold sweat overcame me. “Poor thing,” Aunt Tabitha said. “I’ll take care of her Eric. Don’t worry, your Auntie took care of you when you were ill as a child and I would do the same for this poor young woman.”

“I appreciate it Aunt Tabitha. I really do. I didn’t know who else to call. The workers wanted nothing to do with her.They thought she had some awful disease the way she appeared to them.”

Tabitha gave a harsh laugh. “Ha, those locals are full of stories and superstitions which have no basis in reality. This woman will be fine. When I clean her up a bit and later when she can wash her hair, I imagine she’s a beautiful girl, Eric. I hope the man who died in that plane crash wasn’t her boyfriend.”

“ I don’t know . . .” Eric said softly. “I’ll leave you too it.” I heard him walk away and a door shutting.

 I was awake but not fully. I faded in and out of feverish dreams, nightmares where I was trapped in a never ending forest. No animals in sight. Nothing edible and carrying no water. Only dead silence filling my ears.

I was dressed in a bra and panties and had nothing else on — not even shoes. Darkness descended and it began to snow and my body was wracked by cold as the wind picked up and the snow built up around me. I couldn’t move. I was so cold I was frozen stiff like an ice sculpture; I shrieked aloud.

——–

Eons pass where I am stuck inbetween what’s real and what’s in my dreams. I dream about my Mom and Dad, how worried they would be about me. I know it’s been past two-weeks now since the plane crash. My feaver hasn’t abated for days but Aunt Tabitha dutifully stays at my side. At night there is a hired nurse. A thin bird-like woman who doesn’t speak English but sees to my needs. 

Aunt Tabitha is with me whenever she can be. I’m aware of her reading on her tablet. Sometimes she reads to me, but I want to tell her she’s only giving my mind more material for nightmares. 

I know she has asked me my name several times but I have trouble finding a voice strong enough to answer her when I feel semi-lucid. Only when nightmares overwhelm me do I scream and plead for them to stop using my voice loudly.

Today my head feels much clearer. I look to see the IV attached to my arm and am thankful it’s giving me nutrients because I think food would repulse me right now. With heavy eyes I scan the room. Strangely, Aunt Tabitha isn’t here. 

I move my head and neck gently, testing my muscles which ache from being in bed too long and from hiking through the woods. I wiggle my toes and stretch my legs. I straighten my arms infront of me and put my arms above my head, stretching my whole body like a cat. I feel a jolt of pain in my side.

Pain throughout my body becomes apparent. Bruises and scrapes mostly. I look at my one wrist and see it’s wrapped in a bandage.I must have sprained it. I’m not sure why I didn’t notice when the sprain occurred.

I feel dirty and have the urge to scrub my body until my skin is pink. A bath would be heavenly. My hair is limp and greasy on my head, I can’t remember ever having hair this scungy. 

I lean up in bed regarding the room around me. It’s a large bedroom and the room,  a work of art and design. The room has a peaceful ambiance, painted in grey-blue.

The furniture including the head board behind me is bleached wood like drift wood from the ocean. I feel relaxed in this place, gazing towards a giant white window with a padded blue window seat full of pillows matching my bed’s dark ink blue duvet and silver and white striped sheets.

I haven’t seen the sun in days. The bright white light of the sun bathes me through the window, but is too bright for my eyes. I shade my face with my hand and gaze in awe at the lush greeness of the mansions front yard. They’re fountains and flowers in the distance.

“Wow,” I say and my voice feels gravelly. I start saying random words and sentences aloud to make my voice sound normal but I can’t seem to rid my voice of its weakness.

 I raise my body into a sitting position, crossing my legs under the bed covers. My body cooperates slowly and with aches, but I manage. 

I have decided to have a bath or showe.  I’m certain I can stand and walk. On careful feet as if I were a toddler, I slip out of the bed and start walking to the bathroom I spied at the end of the room. 

It feels so far away at first but my legs remember how to walk quickly and my steps are more assured as I go. Resting against the door frame, I peer into the bathroom.

There is a large tiled glass shower with a wooden bench inside; I am thankful for the bench.The bathroom is designed well with a heavy marble countertop, twin sinks, and dark blue cabinets underneath the counter. A vanity table near by, holds a few cosmetics, clearly for a woman. The toilet is inside a closet in the corner of the bathroom.

I drop my clothes on the wood floor, carefully removing them as my muscles are still sore. The loose grey sweat pants and large white T-shirt are far too roomy to be my clothing and I leave them on the floor.

 I open up the shower door and hobble over to the bench where I sit turning on the shower nozzle convienantly located near my head. The shower is hot, too hot at first. But the showerhead gives a cleansing rainfall shower. I sigh in pleasure as the water washes over me. Picking up a puff hanging on the wall, I squirt jasmine scented Dior body wash on it. I scrub my body free of natures dirt and fevers sweat. 

My body’s skin is as pink as I imagined, when I reach for Dior face wash and volumizing shampoo. I wash my hair four-times before I’m satisfied it’s clean and I condition it, letting the conditioner soak into my dry long brunette strands before washing it out. The sun has caused some of my brunette strands to bleach blond.

When I’m done washing, I relax and let the hot rainfall water run massaging my muscles which ache. I stay inside the shower longer then necessary but I haven’t felt this well in forever.

 “Are you ever coming out?” a deep voice asks outside the shower chuckling.

I gasp and quickly turn the shower off fumbling. I cover myself with my hands uselessly. Eric is outside the glass shower and I’m naked inside, no towel within reach.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Moral Monday’s Flash Fiction: Last Call


Thanks to Nortina for hosting Moral Monday’s prompts. Today’s moral is: “Nothing good ever happens after 2:00 am.”

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http://www.resourcesforsunglemoms.com

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“There you are,” Jason the guy Emma had been flirting with said.

Jason brought Emma another couple of drinks and they talked and laughed. Emma was entranced by Jason’s magnetic grey-blue eyes and attractive face.

At last call, Jason began to kiss Emma and after that, the rest of the night turned into a blur.

Emma awoke naked in Jason’s bed the following afternoon. 

 “Hey Emma.” Jason said beside her, “Did you have a good time? I know I did.”

“I don’t remember,” Emma said feeling sick. 

Jason kissed her forehead. “Just a little something I put into your drink to help you relax.” 

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©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

Maydays: Fiction – Arguing Over Crystal



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Thank you to CL Kaley from new2writing for hosting Mayday’s prompts. The prompt for May 2, 2016, is about neighbours and competition.

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http://www.freshprintmagazine.com

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“She’s my girlfriend you can’t have her,” Tim shouted to the bulky idiot hitting on on Crystal. 

“Maybe, she doesn’t want to be with you. She was dancing pretty sexily with me for a few songs there.” Brett, the bouncer, said laughing.

“She’s still my girlfriend we’re only having a fight right now. She was dancing with you to make me jealous. Isn’t that right Crystal?”

Crystal looked from Tim to her recent dance partner. “Yeah, I was trying to make you jealous Tim. But you know what, I liked dancing with Brett. He’s a friend and a talented dancer too.”

“What?” Tim shouted. The music in the bar was terribly loud.

“I said Brett is a talented dancer, but only a friend.” Crystal repeated.

Brett glared at Crystal, “What do you mean only a friend, you don’t dance with only friends the way you were dancing with me.”

Tim glared at Crystal angerily, “You were making out with this loser? Kissing him and letting him feeling you up?”

“That pretty much sums it up,” Brett remarked.

“I didn’t mean anything, I was caught up in a moment. You really hurt me Tim. I can’t believe you slept with Stephanie. You told me she was only a childhood friend in town visiting.” Crystal retorted.

Tim sighed. “Well she is, you only saw us in bed together. You don’t know we slept together.”

“Oh, I know,” Crystal said with venom. “You were both naked and you were spooning her. Your clothes were all over our bedroom floor. And you both reeked of booze.”

“Yeah, so it was one night. We were drunk and it didn’t mean anything.” Tim said making light of the situation.

“Doesn’t seem like you were faithful to Crystal, Tim. Why would you have a naked women, who was only a childhood friend, in your bed if you weren’t sleeping with her? Honestly, Crystal isn’t stupid and neither am I.” Brett declared.

“Well, maybe Crystal shouldn’t be dancing and making out with her friend who is only a bouncer at this bar — or so I was told.” Tim argued. 

Brett and Tim stared at each other angerily and Crystal was sure a fight would break out if she didn’t do something.

“Enough,” she said. “I’m going home Tim. I’m going to pack my things and be out of there by tomorrow. You cheated on me and we’re done.”

“My friend Shailene, has an empty basement unit she’s been trying to rent out,” Brett piped in helpfully.

“I can give her a call and tell her you’re interested. It was redone about a year ago, has one bedroom, a kitchen, sitting area, and a bathroom with a separate shower and a tub . . .”

“How much?” 

“Well, since you’re a friend $850.00 and wifi and utilities are included.” Brett said.

“I’ll take it!” Crystal said, “As long as it’s not too far from work downtown?” 

“It’s a ten minute walk from downtown.”

” Nice, thank you Brett. But so you know, just because you got this great place for me, doesn’t mean I’m into you that way.” Crystal said peering suspiciously at Brett.

“Yep, I completely understand.” Brett answered, knowing he’d win Crystal over in time.

Tim stared at Crystal and Brett aghast. “You can’t leave me Crystal after two-years?”

“It’s too late,” she said not meeting Tim’s eyes as the cabbie texted her; he was out front of the bar.

Crystal left and Brett patted Tim on both shoulders, squeezing Tim’s shoulders hard for emphasis. Tim shouted, “Ouch, you’re hurting me.”

“That’s the point,” Brett said gruffly. “Don’t ever cheat on a woman like Crystal again.”

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers: Through a Skeleton’s Eyes. 


Surprise! I’m the skeleton in the classroom where you have Anatomy. An interesting aspect: the top half of my skull isn’t mine, it’s fake. 

Once I was a pretty girl of nineteen named Iris. I ran up to the dorm to watch movies with a bunch of the guys from the hockey team. My guy was the goalie. Travis made everyone laugh. But I stopped laughing when I went to see him in his dorm room when he was sick.

I opened his door and there was this fake and bake cheerleader on top of Travis moaning. I shrieked and I dragged the naked cheerleader by her hair to the door.

Suddenly, the cheerleader became free and hit me hard on my head with Travis’ favourite hockey stick. I could hear my head crack, distantly. The cheerleader hit me again viciously. I remember Travis crying but doing nothing to stop her.

So, Yes. This was my skeleton, but I’m not tied to it. Only, my spirit  hangs about here. I’m stuck on campus where they covered up my murder. The cheerleader slut and Travis went free. They didn’t live long. 

 

http://www.pixebay.com
 
Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting. Feel free to participate by checking out the above link.

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers – Daddy’s a Peacock.


Jennifer was at the San Diego zoo with her nephew Hollister. Hollister was oohing and aahing at the animals he saw. “Look those are peacocks honey, aren’t they pretty?” Jennifer asks Hollister. He nods and says, “oooo nice.”

“That’s the boy peacock” Jennifer tells him pointing, “they always have bright blue and green feathers so the girl peacocks will notice them. The girl peacocks have white feathers. ” Hollister smiles.

” I think the boys are just showin’ off,” he says. “Like Daddy when he brings the red car with Monica. I like Monica she is so pretty, but not as pretty as Mommy,” Hollister spouts.

“When does Daddy bring Monica over?” Jennifer asks Hollister. He giggles.

“She is so funny. Monica comes over in the day when Daddy comes and gets me from playschool. I watch cartoons and play with my toys. Daddy says not to bother Monica. But I went to see them once…” Jennifer gasps but Hollister continues,”Daddy got mad and he was naked. Monica was naked too. Daddy said they were having grown-up time.”

Jennifer was so furious at her brother-in-law. Hollister pats Jennifer’s hand as if he can see how anxious she is. ” It’s okay Auntie, Daddy was just being a peacock .”

Jennifer sighs. “We’re going to have to tell Mommy this story Hollister.”

Peacock

Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting!