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. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

My Thoughts

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: What Big Teeth You Have #flashfiction #fiction #amwriting 


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

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Credit: Maria @ Doodles and Scribbles

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Lauren worked at the Starbucks until 12:00 am at night. She thought after a time, she would feel safer and more comfortable walking home in the dark. Her apartment was only four-blocks away.

This evening she felt particularly on edge and the noise of metal dropping somewhere nearby, echoed in the night. 

Lauren began to shake, she had one block to go when she started to run. Then there was only the front door to get into her apartment. She hurriedly opened the door and screamed when she felt someone touch her arm. 

 “Calm down Lauren, it’s only me. Your neighbour Alice. I’m headed over to my sisters. Brandy and her kids are all ill with the flu and I’m going to help her with the little ones.” 

“Oh Alice,” Lauren said trembling. She squeezed Alice’s arm, happy she was there. “I’m sorry about Brandy and her kids, I didn’t mean to freak out on you. It scares me walking home in the dark alone.” 

Alice clicked her tongue, “A girl of your age shouldn’t be alone at night.” When she bared her wolf-like teeth, Lauren knew it was too late. 

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, Flash Fiction, My Thoughts, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Sunday Photo Fiction: Part 4 – Nineteen-Years Laters


Thank you to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

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A Mixed Bag

——-
 Chad, Bastion, and Uncle Sam, had taken a flight to Amsterdam after the house in the mountainside of Switzerland, turned out to be a death trap. After finding one of Bastions ‘safe’ houses, Bastion slipped away to do business.

Sam had ruffled Chad’s hair. “You’ve still got your gun on you? Just in case, keep it close.” 

They began to walk on the opposite side of the street, away from a flower market. When Chad’s Uncle paid for two tickets to the medieval torture museum, Chad begged, “Please not in there. . .” 

 “It’s for secrecy and privacy Chad. I’m going to answer your questions about your Dad.” Sam said chuckling.

They walked into a room showcasing a few racks. Uncle Sam and Chad pretended to look at the torture devises.

“There was fight between your Dad’s squadron and an enemy squadron. Tom was undercover and to most of his fellow marines, it appeared as if one of their own had turned. Tom wasn’t expecting to run into his own squad.” Uncle Sam said softly.

“Your Dad was loyal. Only a few marines who ranked with him, knew he was undercover. Bastion knew and so did a man named Garig; the three were close friends in school.”

“Somehow, Tom was shot; it took the rest of his squadron too long to figure out, he wasn’t the enemy. Your Dad knew who among his squad was actually working for the enemy before the encounter.” 

“So who was it?”  Chad asked.

“Well, Tom talked to me a day or two before he was sent undercover. He was sure he knew who the traitor was then; he had proof.” 

” It’s not Bastion,” Sam said quickly. “Tom suspected Gerig because he had been disappearing for long periods of time. Gerig had also been jealous about your Dad marrying Mona; Gerig was in love with your Mom. He also had other information he couldn’t tell me . . .”

” Tom said he had proof Gerig was the enemy, that he was betraying his friends and squad.” 

“How could Dad know? And why is Gerig chasing us?” Chad mumbled.

“What Gerig was involved in . .. It’s on your body and proves his guilt.” Uncle Sam said.

“My tattoo?” 

“Well, yeah. Who gets their kid a tattoo at six-months-old, Chad?” Uncle Sam whispered.

“It’s a Bambi cartoon of an actual seal; I hated it in gym.” Chad muttered. 

“You have to read it the right way to retrieve the information. Only, the right technology can read it.” 

“Like 3D glasses?” Chad asked.

“No, I’m afraid not . . ” Sam couldn’t finish his sentence; he heard screams and people talking noisily.

Running towards the clammer, Chad and Uncle Sam gazed up horrified, as the body of Bastion hung from the noose of a medieval execution scene.

Chad shivered. “It’s Garig. He knows.” He turned around in a circle, wondering if Garig was here.

The palest eyes, nearly white, stared through the crowd at Chad. 

Uncle Sam dragged him away, “The pale-eyed man, it’s him. Chad wake-up. Do you want to die?” 

Chad narrowed his eyes at Garig but inside, his stomach began to twist.

——

Read Part 3 here. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

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

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: An Alternate Universe of the Wizard of Oz.


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

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Storyteller’s Abode

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Dorothy had a wonderful time with the munchkins in their village. She had been celebrated as the killer of the Wicked Witch of the East. The Good Witch Gelinda sent Dorothy down the yellow brick road with the deceased witch’s ruby red slippers adorning Dorothy’s feet. 

The shoes were heels and uncomfortable. Dorothy soon regretted she could not take them off. She was leaning against a fence, resting her feet, when she thought the scarecrow beside her talked.

“What?” Dorothy asked the scarecrow, “Did you say something?”

The scarecrow continued making funny noises which was when Dorothy, a good Catholic, believed the scarecrow was possessed. She decided to burn the scarecrow and the demon out.

Lighting him afire she watched as the scarecrow screeched and fell in the middle of the yellow brick road, blackened hay and cloth all that remained.

Dorothy smiled to herself. Wicked witch of the East, check. Possessed scarecrow, check. Wizard of Oz here I come!

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved

Fiction, My Thoughts, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Story Continuation Prompt: Fiction – Adventures with Dogs


Thanks to Wandering Soul for hosting the story continuation prompt. This week’s first sentence is: “The new morning brought with it new hope.”


Dog American Eskimo
http://www.pexels.com

The new morning brought with it new hope. Yesterday had been a horrible day and I didn’t want today to be a repeat. I had taken the day off as work had been particularly stressful.

Also, I had been dog sitting for my brothers and my parents who had all decided to go to various vacation destinations at the same time. I was ready to relax and unwind with the dogs, when my friend popped over with her three giant lab dogs.

Janice hadn’t had time to take her labs to doggy daycare in the morning as she usually did on Thursdays, before work. She felt Luna, Izzy, and Geo needed to be around other dogs at least a couple of days in the week, in addition to their walks. Luna, Izzy, and Geo joined Crumpet, Lola, and Cleo for some socialization on my day off.

I was happy all six dogs were girls.There was a pecking order, Cleo and Lola, leading the pack, but all the dogs got along famously and enjoyed playing and following each other around in the house.

Cleo and Lola were miniature American-Eskimo cross breeds and pack dogs by nature. Crumpet was a chihuahua and yappy as chihuahua’s tended to be. Luna, Izzy, and Geo were all various mixes of labs, friendly and boisterous.

I dreaded taking all six dogs to the park for a walk as I wasn’t sure how to manage six dogs of various sizes and temperaments, all on leashes. I was hoping to let them run around on the off leash trails as much as possible. But even maintaining control of the girls on the off leash trails would be a challenge as I would have to ensure they did not scare or surround other dogs and their owners.

Lunch time came, and I set off on a walk with all six dogs. Leashes tangled and the girls sniffed around and jumped at each other on the way to the off leash trails. We narrowly avoided several people on bicycles. The American Eskimo crosses, in particular, didn’t like the cyclists and the noise they made. They were even more upset by the rollerbladers who whipped by us.

While Cleo and Lola tugged madly on their leashes I attempted to pull them in. The labs on the other hand, loved running along with Janice on her husband as they biked, so they in turn, pulled their leashes towards the cyclists happy to greet them.

Finally we reached the off leash trails and the dogs were set free to play. The chased each other through trees, wood chipped trail, and bushes. We passed other people walking their dogs and I was surprised how good all the dogs were, even Cleo and Lola who could be nippy and have attitudes at times. All the dogs greeted the new human and dog friends they met on the trails, and more dogs were added to the mixture of breeds running wild.

Crumpet, my parent’s chihuahua mix, decided she had had enough walking and jumped up into my arms. I had no idea how I was going to carry her with the five others dogs pulling on their leashes when we were ready to go home. The dogs and I walked down the trail a good hour and then turned around.

I was tired near the end of our walk. It was a great deal of effort to keep tabs on six dogs and the dogs’ energy levels were still going strong. I was hoping a long walk would tire them out. The girls were constantly running back and forth to me, checking to see that I was coming along and jumping at me at random moments wanting me to play or to give me a kiss. Cleo and Lola who knew me better, kept checking back incase I decided to throw a milkbone treat their way.

As we walked, we came to the shores of the river near my house. A small delta of land went out here, and couple of other dogs were swimming in the shallow waters. I shouted, “No. Stay here,” to all the dogs but they ignored me. I expected Luna, Izzy, and Geo to not hear me as they had never had to listen to me before. But Cleo and Lola knew better. So did Crumpet.

They tiny Chihuahua mix leaped into the muddy water and began to paddle around. I groaned. All these dogs were going to need baths later and this wasn’t how I wanted to spend my Thursday off, bathing filthy dogs. I knew for a fact Cleo, Lola, and Crumpet would never accept being bathed by a hose and they would fight me every inch as I washed them.

After a time, I called all the dogs out of the river water. They came crashing towards me. Luckily, I had been wearing workout clothes, for I was as wet and dirty as the dogs once they were done greeting me.

Something was wrong though, Crumpet hadn’t come in from the river. I saw her standing on a tiny piece of land surrounded by water and yipping at me. She was afraid to come out. I sighed and made a face knowing I would have to go in the river and bring Crumpet out.

Wading into the shallow water, I carefully walked out from the delta and grabbed Crumpet off of her lonely island. She was overjoyed to see me and dripped water over my face and neck. Even my hair was dirty now.

Crumpted nuzzled into my neck and sighed. When I was back on land, I managed to leash up the five other dogs who had been patiently waiting for me oddly enough.

I don’t know how, but dripping wet and dirty, we all made it back to my house and I unleashed all the dogs in my fenced backyard. I won’t mention how difficult it was to clean up after each dog after they had done their business during the walk.

In the garage, I had a kiddy pool purchased for my small niece when she had visited in the summer. I filled up the pool with water from the garden house. Going inside the house, I shed my clothes at the door along with my mucky shoes, and went downstairs to the bathroom to grab a big bottle of shampoo. I changed into an old t-shirt and pair of shorts and grabbed old towels from from the closet upstairs.

A couple of the labs, Izzy and Luna, were already in the swimming pool when I came outside, so I began washing them first. Apparently, they were used to being bathed liked this and after the first two labs were done, I grabbed Crumpet from where she slept, under a tree and forced her to have a bath as well. Taking ice cream buckets full of garden hose water, I rinsed off the dogs and dried them in turn. I dumped out the kiddy pool and filled it again with clean water.

Geo the third lab, was happy to have a bath as her lab siblings had enjoyed. She was easy to shampoo, rinse off, and dry. Cleo and Lola watched me suspiciously as I came to get them.  I yelled, “Come here!” Their ears went back as they knew they were in trouble and they tried to stealthily avoid me. But Cleo was nearest and only thirty-pounds, it was easy enough to carry her into the pool a short distance away.

Keeping Cleo in the pool, was a problem. She struggled in earnest to escape, even when she was slathered in shampoo. She was tough to clean as she had long fur and when she was done, we both were covered in water. I let Cleo go after drying her off. It was Lola’s turn next and she yelped when I picked her up from the corner of the yard she’d been hiding in. The process of cleaning Lola was similar to how it went with her cousin Cleo.

I was worn out from walking and bathing six filthy dogs. But I gazed out into the grassy backyard and saw how tired the dogs were too. They lay stretched out in the grass sleeping or circling, trying to find a good position to settle down in in a sunbeam. I collapsed into a lawn chair and slept.

The next thing I knew Janice was standing before me. “Trish? Are you awake?” I was startled. I smiled at Janice sleepily.

“Yeah. I was tired. Sorry I must have dozed off.” I told Janice what the girls and I did today. She laughed.

“You didn’t have to take all the dogs for a long walk. I was going to take the labs myself when I got home. How did you manage with six dogs?”I told Janice the story and she laughed at my struggles with the dogs.

Janice thanked me profoundly and took Izzy, Luna, and Geo home. Cleo, Lola, and Crumpet .wandered up to me and we all went in the house. Dinner was served for the dogs and at the end, treats were given for enduring their baths.

In the end, I was able to have the long hot shower, I’d been dreaming about since the dogs jumped on me after being in the river. I took my time and was finally, able to relax.


©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Relationship, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Three Line Tales, Writing

3Line Tales: Quiet, Imagination, and the Spaces Inbetween Silence.


  Thanks to Sonya from 100 Words or Less for hosting Three Line Tales.

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Moritz Schmidt
 

——

 1. Some people abhor quiet and others they adore it, I would say I’m often in the latter group but not all the time; we all have this need to be sociable creatures to some extent, whether it’s to meet new clients and network; gab with our girlfriends or see the boys for a game; or simply sit in a coffee shop and absorb the hum of conversation occurring around us.

2. I have this love for quiet (or silence you might call it) because they’re special ideas and transfigurations of your imagination hiding within it; some people can feed their creativity in the loud and garish noises of a crowd of people yelling and hollering to a person near to them; but the best place for some of us to elaborate on ideas and call fourth the muses of our imagination is in the silence where we write brilliant stories, paint paintings, and daydream of our future creations.

3. Sometimes it’s not the quiet or silence which is meaningful, but the spaces inbetween the quiet, because in those hidden molecules lives a powerful and significant understanding between two people; it is love in it’s magnificence which exists within the silences of husbands and wives, partners, girlfriends and boyfriends, children and their parents, grandparents and grandchildren, friends, and people and their pets; this space within silence is a secret place two people who love each other exceptionally, coexist together without uttering a single word, while both comprehending each other deeply even within each other’s souls.

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Fiction, Flash Fiction, My Thoughts, Relationship, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Flash Fiction for The Aspiring Writer: A Place to Sleep


“This is frustrating, Marcus.” Trisha complained.”Every morning at 6:00 am, the workmen start hammering and climbing up the scaffolding. Lulu and I just fall asleep, after her needing to eat all night, then the workmen arrive and make noise. I haven’t slept more than two-hours in a row for three-months.”

Marcus frowned, he wanted to help Trisha and Lulu. He could see how tired and run down Trisha was. Marcus went for a drive so he could think. He found himself driving through a neighbourhood with unique older houses.

To Marcus’s surprise, one of the houses had a ‘For Sale,’ sign. When Marcus walked into the house, he knew the house was perfect for his family. The house was updated five-years ago and the price was feasible. Trisha needed to see this house.

That evening Trisha stood in the great room of the house Marcus had found them. She turned around and sighed, “It’s quiet.” 

“So, we can buy the house?” Marcus asked.

Trisha laughed sleepily, “Yes.”

——

Scafolding
Ellesepeth
—–

Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting this Flash Fiction challenge. Want to join? Check-out the link above.

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction, Health, My Thoughts, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Sunday Photo Fiction: A Sordid Affair


Apology: I’m sorry, this is way too long for Flashfiction but the story just developed and formed. I tried to cut it down and it’s still too long 😦

——

I am sitting by a government building and admiring its interesting architectural elements. I am waiting for my contact to arrive. 

It’s fall and I can feel the nip in the air as winter approaches. It’s why I have chosen to wear my new coat. It’s long, hits me mid-calf, and is made of a silk-lined pink-wool with black buttons.  My makeup is flawless down to the lipstick that matches my coat and my hair is curled artfully. I’m anxious, but I need to appear in control. 

My contact ‘Winston’arrives. He is dressed impeccably in a tailored suit and expensive shoes. He could be any government businessman. Winston looks at me and  I can tell from his calm expressionless demeaner he knows about ‘intrigue’ well.

“Do you have it?” I ask him curtly “you’ve had plenty of time.” He looks at me sternly, “time is money” Winston says and I hand him a small bag filled with twenty-thousand dollars. 

I stare up at Winston and hold out my gloved hand. He places a small memory stick in the leather of my palm and passes me a hard copy in an envelope. “It’s pretty obvious” Winston murmers matter-of-factly, ” Senator Smith’s wife is cheating on him. She has been for seven years. Two years after he found out, he began his own affair.”

“And before?” I  question.

 “He was faithful for the five years they dated. Since the day he meant her, he never slept with another woman until five years ago. Before Ashley, um you…  he was miserable. He channeled his energy into his work and became a young Senator.” I shook Winston’s hand,”anytime, Ms. Taylor.”

I stare at the memory stick with the evidence of Linda’s affair. I knew about the affair of course. Jamie’s wife Linda was the one who first cheated. He had loved her deeply. She had wounded him and he hadn’t recovered until he meant me. But Jamie was still married to Linda. A piece of his heart hung onto her, even though she was always with Daniel (Jamie’s cousin) and hardly spoke to Jamie. 

Slowly, I walked away from the ornate government building, walked down the street past some trendy shops, and into a restaurant called Linguini, where I met Daniel, Linda’s boyfriend. 

“She gets a divorce or she disappears,” I tell Daniel. Daniel’s face turns pale when I present him with the envelope Winston gave me.”Why does she string Jamie along Daniel? You and I could both be free to be with who we love, if only Linda would sign the divorce papers.”

Daniel sighs, “she won’t sign the papers because she gets almost nothing. Just a million for twelve years of her life.”

“But she cheated first and she hates him now. Jamie didn’t start seeing me until two years after Linda first cheated. She had her chance.”

“It makes me angry too, Ashley. I have lots of money, but she gets hysterical when I ask her about signing the divorce papers.”

“If she doesn’t the media will know what a whore she was. How she ripped apart her marriage with the senator, cheating with you. If that’s not enough I’ll have her sent away. She’ll never see you again Daniel.”

A growl comes from Daniel, ” I’ll get her to sign the papers. I wish you would have came to me and we could have worked out a better situation for both our lives, Ashley. You didn’t have to play dirty.”

Daniel left the restaurant quickly and I sipped my Mascoto deep in thought. Jamie arrived soon after, his eyes sparkling at me  serenely.” I have missed you so much,” he tells me kissing me softly and then deeply as we get lost in each other. 

Jamie sits down beside me and puts his arm around me while we order food and drinks. “I have something to tell you,” I start talking nervously. I tell Jamie the whole story of me highering Winston to dig up proof of Linda’s indescretions. When I’m done talking a tear escapes my eye and Jamie wipes it away with his thumb. 

“Ash, I wish you’d told me sooner. We both would have felt better if I knew what you were doing.”

“Are you mad?” I manage.

“No, not mad at all. This proves to me what I know; you love me and are faithful to me. You’re also a smart and savvy woman. I told myself I’d never be fooled by a woman like Linda again. That’s why I sent her the divorce papers and that’s why she’ll go to trial and get the death penalty if she doesn’t sign the divorce papers.” I gasp. 

Jamie’s face has gone rigid and I can tell it is difficult for him to say the next words:”We did have a child once. A little girl named Amber. She was sweet and only two when Linda strangled her for crying loudly when they were home alone one night. Linda said the noise was driving her crazy. . .” I huddled into Jamie stunned. With a vacant look in his eyes Jamie whispers,”she was my wife. I kept her secret. I thought she was depressed. Then I found out she was cheating.” 

“That’s terrible Jamie. I can’t believe you’ve been keeping this inside you all these years.” I whisper. 

He smiles at me, “two years later I met you and you made me feel whole again. I promised myself I would cut ties with Linda. She wants more money but I won’t give her a cent. She killed my innocent daughter, and I have all the evidence necessary to put her in jail on death row.”

The food arrived and Jamie and I ate hungrily keeping us from saying more about the situation. Although, I wanted Linda gone, apart of me wondered whether she had struggled with postpartum depression; maybe she was still dealing with a mental illness untreated. She did seem volatile.

One instant I was eating and the next I heard a commotion in the restaurant. Linda was standing at our table screaming at Jamie. Daniel was close behind her trying to calm her down. I guessed his discussion with her based on my threats hadn’t gone well. 

Linda threw the divorce papers on our table and shouted, “I want more money! If you don’t give me more, I’ll shoot the skank.” A handgun was pointed at my chest. Daniel and Jamie were carefully, attempting to settle Linda down and obtain the gun when Linda cracked and pulled the trigger. People screamed as the shot rang out. 

I felt a burning in my chest, then extreme pain. I saw the blood on my hands as I tried to stop the steady oozing with my thick wool coat. Everything was happening quickly. Then Linda held the gun to her own head and despite pleading from Daniel, and the sounds of horror others were making in the restaurant, the gun went off. I briefly thought about how many people at Linguini would be traumatized by this shooting;  not only Daniel, Jamie, and I. 

I shrieked, surprised I still had a voice. My head was cloudy and I ached in pain as Jamie was trying to stop the flow of blood on my chest and call 911. Daniel was a mess as he cried over Linda’s body. There was blood everywhere and I registered the noise and panic of the people around us from a distance. 

I slept fretfully for ages. I dreamt awful scenarios and I almost woke up before tumbling back into a nightmare. When I finally awake, I’m at a hospital and I can see out a window to the government building below. My memory is pricked but Jamie is asleep beside me, his head on the bed. I adjust my position on the bed as carefully as I can without hurting myself and waking Jamie. 

The funeral for Linda was weeks ago. Daniel was devastated, especially when Jamie told him about his past with Linda. He felt Daniel had a right to know the truth. 

I had been in the hospital a month in semi-consciousness. I almost died and Jamie had spent most of his time waiting for me, (while taking a leave of his senate responsibilities)to wake up and live the life we wanted together. “We’re free Jamie,” I tell him when I am allowed to leave the hospital. He grins and my pulse increases.

 “I thought I’d lost you Ashley. The doctors told me it was a long shot you’d recover. ” I held Jamie’s hand in solidarity. I was done with intrigue and blackmailing people, for now…

  
Thanks to Alistair Forbes for the prompt picture. 

My Thoughts, Writing

Writing 101: Day 7 – A Writing Space


Let me paint a picture for you: I am in the living room at home. The walls are seashell beige on the wall opposite of me where there is a grand picture window with wispy white see-through curtains. Behind me the wall is a darker beige, with a slight green tinge to it. To the right is a corner cabinet in oak, furniture  my Uncle built, displaying a few trinkets. Beside the corner cabinet to the left is a side-table stained in a darker wood with a butter yellow corrugated place mat on it. Beside it is a deep dark red-orange sofa with a sheet covering the seat and back. The sheet is off white with brown and copper leaves. In front of the coach is a french provincial coffee table with a cream runner on top. The left corner of this coach is usually where I sit and write. It is quite comfortable, a place to sink into words.

The side table is where I pile various textbooks I’m using for school: Furniture in History 3000 BC – 2000 AD, and papers about applying for a Masters in Fine Arts. There is a little leaf green binder for portion sizes of food you eat; I try to follow the guide. It’s from when I was doing Herbal Magic. There are tabs of varied colours you can write on to make a divider for your binder or mark a chapter in the textbook. There is lip chap, pens of blue and black, paper clips, and a  binder for my Furnishing’s Course –thick with printed out slides and notes. In front of me is the IKEA catalogue. And to the left of me a framed vertical drawing of a bench and buildings in Ottawa, it’s matting is forest green. There is a lamp that’s tall with a cream lamp shade, providing light to me as I write on my lap top. I am resting my right arm on a multicolored brown, orange and red pillow, a muted knitted purple blanket covers my legs. Usually it’s nice and quiet during the day, everyone is at work. But lately, there is a loud truck across the street and it runs and makes the most horrible rumbling sounds. I’m trying to ignore it and I can’t do anything about it. But I wish the people would hurry up and leave already or get their truck fixed.

I’m burning a candle on the coffee table it smells like heavenly vanilla, I love that smell. And I just keep on writing. I wish I had a quiet room with a  desk and a comfortable leather chair to sit in, where I was looking out the window at the river valley full of orange and red in Autumn. A place I couldn’t hear this rumbling noise, it’s like a tractor. But you write where you write and create your “room of your own” wherever you can find the space. This will do for now.

creative_writing1
http://www.pacejmiller.com
Poetry

Poetry: Silence, my Old friend


Sometimes I just need silence, it’s not an easy concept to explain — partly I’m an introvert — and partly it’s the fact that noise is wearing, can tare through your head in a pounding severe as hard rain on pavement; sharp and painful to your skin.
Sometimes I just need quiet because I do my best thinking in my head when you muse your questions out loud, it’s just the way I’m built and your brain was formed a different way… And when I was a little girl somebody told me that it was better to listen, to actually hear and comprehend the various foods on the speakers spread.
And sometimes I just like listening, to her the cadences of sound, to hear the up and hear the down, and understand what your telling me well before I make my peace — I’d like to give you the best advice because I’m weighing consequences and scenarios.
Other times, I like to say something smart — a witty thought– a word sharper than not; I used to be better at these retorts but these days I’m caught up in thought and weighing the conversation in my head on scales — these things I’ll remember and these things I’ll probably forget.
Sometimes I’m just use to silence — a long hot summer with many entrancing books, a family on vacation, a family at work, a dog who breathed her last before the dog days of summer began.
Silence is a funny thing, at times it can be utterly defeating and deafening, and I wish so hard for some conversation, to be around people and bask in a parade of voices delighted, bemused, upset, and hurried.
And sometimes silence is like a tear in a waterless desert. You never knew you had in you, what with being parched — obstructed by a harsh cacophony — you never knew you needed to cry — to be in a noiseless atmosphere — until that day, until water arrived; or until silence greeted you and flowed down your throat refreshing everything within you and bringing back life inside you.
If that analogy works, then you might understand silence.
That silence is completely necessary and quiet completely calming.
You might challenge the thought if you live for the rush of booming sound but some of you know silence and greet her like an old friend when she hushes you goodnight.
And when you find that the silence between you and your friend is a delicious moment you both understand, then you’ve truly understood silence, are restored by it’s gentle breath.
The quiet of the moment, the calm before the storm.