Current Events, Fiction, Flash Fiction, Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer, Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Writing, Writing Challenges

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer:  Stronger #amwriting #flashfiction 


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

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Credit: Grant-Sud

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Below Joshua the city spanned the azure horizon. He wished it felt like home here, that the kids at school didn’t make fun of him. He couldn’t help that he didn’t speak English well. He’d lived outside of Beijing almost his entire thirteen years. 

Even though his English was improving, the kids in his classes still teased him, mimicked his Asian accent.  Joshua didn’t understand why they made fun of him, specifically. There were many kids of diverse ethnicities in his classes. The difference was they’d been born here, or had picked up English as toddlers. 

When some of the bigger boys punched and pushed him around one day at school, Joshua ran home immediately. There were tears running down his cheeks and he was embarrassed to be crying. He wasn’t surprised when his legs took him to his favorite place in the city. Joshua had found it one day wandering the streets and deserted buildings close to where he lived. 

As he presently stood on the corner of the brightly spray painted building, he swore to never cry again. No matter how much the other kids teased him, no matter how badly they bruised him; Joshua would show them he was stronger. 

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Kelly Clarkson – “Stronger (What Doesn’t Kill You) 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, Flash Fiction, My Thoughts, Nature, Sunday Photo Fiction, Writing, Writing Challenges

Sunday Photo Fiction: An Evil Chalice #amwriting #fiction #flashfiction 


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

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A Mixed Bag

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Timo and Erica had been stranded in the desert when their small plane crashed near Cairo. Sunburnt, exhausted, and thirsty, they were shocked to see an Oasis. 

“An Oasis Timo, we’re saved. There’s water and even a chalice to drink from,” Erica yelled. 

“You’re seeing things Erica, there’s no water and no chalice.” 

Really look, it’s only a few steps away — we’re here,” Erica said rushing forward to drink from a beautiful pale blue spring; however, whenever she tried to cup the spring water with her hands, it slide away. 

“It won’t let me drink and I’m half-dead,” she cried. 

Timo rubbed his eyes, finally believing the blue spring underneath a palm tree existed. A chalice made with a human skull sat in the middle of a stone alter as well. It gave him a feeling of dread. 

“Erica, to drink the water you need the chalice but don’t do it. There’s something terrifying and evil about this cup.” 

She turned to Timo, giving him a dark stare, “I’ll drink from the chalice if I want.” Erica strode to the alter, bowed mockingly and lifted the chalice to kiss the skull on the mouth.

Timo grimaced as she scooped it into the water and drank. It was an Indiana Jones’ movie come to life as Erica’s life force was sucked from her body which disintegrated until she was dust. 

He decide to try drinking from the spring without the chalice. Timo drank all the water he could then sat down beneath the large palm tree in the shade. He wondered why cupping his hands worked for him and not for poor Erica as he drifted asleep.

When he awoke, Timo heard the blessed noise of rescuers in the distance and hollered for help. To his amazement the Oasis had disappeared along with the chalice. 

He contemplated what he should say happened to Erica as no one would believe the truth. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Italian Sonnet - Iambic Pentameter - Octave (abbaabba) - Sestet (cdcdcd), May Day Prompts, My Thoughts, Poetry, Relationship, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Maydays: Poem – Italian Sonnet (Double Octave) – “Love Is The Song” #Maydays 



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Thanks to K.L. Caley from new2writing for #Maydays prompts. Today’s prompt is a journey – spiritual, physical, emotional, or otherwise.

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The day begins; I’m sure today I’m meek,

I haven’t the fortitude everything–

Requires for me to be while I’m measuring,

The distance required between sun and sleep. 

Why can’t you support me; not laugh, I weep;

Lost in worlds, created in pages, blustering.

Voices characterized; people greeting,

You’ve become part of a book; words they leap.

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Understand the writer’s suffering for dreams,

A silly Romance, they say, all they think,

Ready to criticize, it was only sex scenes — wink. 

Stupid, fake; not real, no depth don’t dream. 

As l write I see, relationships in every scene.

You write well; write romance; you didn’t think —

Wisdom was hidden in tangled sheets, links –

To love in tales written long ago, seen. 

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In every story and genre, in best played songs,

Love is always there; and sex sometimes,

Romance literature; no oxymoron.

End of the day, lover’s moon full and strong. 

Each writer writes love; some obscure way find,

No matter the genre; love is the song. 

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©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.