Sunday Photo Fiction: The Perfect Equation #amwriting #flashfiction 


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting the August 20, 2017 SPF. 

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Credit: A Mixed Bag – Alistair Forbes

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Simon was a scientist working for NASA. He hadn’t thought he’d marry until he saw Nancy. He was walking past her office and the sight of her muttering equations with her hands twisted in her long brown ombré hair made him stop. 

Her skin tingled. From the corner of her eye Nancy saw an attractive dark haired man studying her. She didn’t recognize him. “Can you come back in an hour? I can’t lose my train of thought.” 

Then, she felt a hand on her shoulder.”Here you need to do this.” 

The man pointed out where she was having problems on her laptop screen, astonishing Nancy. She noted his thick navy glasses frames on his angular face. She could also tell he was taller than her. Most of her dates eventually told 6′ 0″ Nancy she was too tall and/or fat. 

She breathed deeply shivering, was this chemistry? “But what about this? I tried what you said, it’s not what I’m missing,” Nancy told the man.  

They argued over her equations for the next three hours. Nancy was to her surprise completely comfortable around him, learning his name was Simon. She didn’t mind how near he’d pulled his chair. 

By 6:00 p.m. Simon realized he’d been so absorbed in Nancy he hadn’t noticed everyone else had gone home. “Nancy, would you let me take you for dinner? I’ve kept you too long, you’re probably starving.” Simon’s thumb grazed her nape. 

“I would love that,” she said. 

Two years later Nancy was pregnant. Simon created the finishing touches to their baby’s Space Ship mobile. He didn’t want his son to hurt himself, by being able to reach the mobile. 

“The nursery’s amazing.” 

He kissed her. “So are you.” 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Sully Award Entry: One Step Too Far for Modern Art #amwriting #fiction 


I wrote this last year for FFftAW and it’s my piece of Flash Fiction with the most likes ever. It’s a strange story, maybe that’s why? Anyways, I’m entering it for a 200 Word or Less Writing Contest on Hey Look Writer Fellow’s Sully Award Competition. It’s open until March 28, 2017 and the rules are in the link above. Thanks to Michael for sharing the contest, visit Michael’s awesome blog Morpethroad HERE. 

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Credit: S Writings

“Look at those cows, incredible,” Dorothy said.

“This entire gallery is full of painted cows. Is this the artist’s ‘thing?’ Dorothy’s husband, Stanley, asked a gallery employee.

“Hi, I’m Theresa,” the woman said. ” How do you like The Moo Gallery? Isn’t Shaunda Rose talented? I’m not sure why she chose cows but I adore how every cow is a unique work of art, don’t you?”

“Shaunda is ridiculously talented. Painting plastic cows, she’s brilliant,” Dorothy declared.

“Cows? Really? Who wants a painted cow in their home or office?” Stanley asked.

Theresa smile was unnatural, “You’re right,” she said nodding at Dorothy. “Cows are Shaunda’s specialty. In fact, these cows were once alive. She has the cows sent to a taxidermist and then has them resurfaced so she can paint them. It’s why they’re so authentic, a fabulous example of Modern Art. Each cow sells for hundreds of thousands of dollars.”

Dorothy’s enthusiasm for the painted cows evaporated and she gazed at Stanley alarmed. He simply shook his head at her and smiled because he’d known all along Shaunda Rose was crazy. Theresa attempted a sales pitch again but he held up his hand to stop her.

“ Shaunda Rose is a nut. Tell her Stanley Manet said so. Manet was an authentic artist, he was also my Great-Great-Great Grandfather.”


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Too Many Eyes Watching The Cathedral Dome Restoration.


Thank you to Priceless Joy who hosts FFftAW each week.

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TJ. Paris

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“Gino you’re a talented Renaissance style art-restorer. We’re hopeful you can restore the painting of the dome frescos for the Cathedral.” Roberto an art historian said.

“Gentlemen,” Gino said, ” This dome was touched up recently, and not finished.”

“Can you complete it?” Marlin, the second art historian asked. 

Gino nodded, “For a price.”

“Of course,” Roberto readily agreed.

“Okay, I’ll start now.” Gino remarked, climbing the scaffolding with his tools.

 He worked tiressly until one morning Gino refused to go up the scaffolding.

“What is it Gino?” Marlin asked running from his office hearing the commotion between Roberto and Gino.

“Spiders, huge spiders everywhere. It’s why the first restorer never finished.” Gino said with disgust.

“But –” Roberto began, but Gino cut him off.

“Burn the place. Nothing but fire will destroy these specific spiders.” Gino insisted.

The frescos on the dome remain half restored. 

Gino spread the news through out Italy, gigantic spiders terrorize the famous Cathedral dome. 

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©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: One Step too Far for Modern Art


“Look at those cows. They’re incredible.” Dorothy said.

“This entire gallery is full of painted cows. Is this the artists ‘thing?’ Why has the artist painted all these heavy plastic cows?” Stanley asked an art gallery employee.

“Hi, I’m Theresa. I work here at The Moo Gallery, isn’t Shaunda Rose talented? She painted all these cows. I adore how every cow is a unique work of art. Don’t you?”

“Shaunda Rose is incredibly talented. Who would’ve thought of painting plastic cows? Brilliant woman.” Dorothy declared.

“Cows….” Stanley said shaking his head.”Who wants a painted cow in their home or office?”

Theresa smiled plastically and said: “You’re right, cows are Shaunda’s speciality. In fact, these are ‘actual’ cows Shaunda painted. She has the cows sent to a taxidermist and then she has them resurfaced so she can paint them. It’s why they’re so authentic; a great example of modern art. Each cow sells for several hundred -thousand-dollars.”

Dorothy’s enthusiasm for the painted cows evaporated; she felt alarmed.

Stanley shook his head. He knew Shaunda Rose was crazy. Theresa attempted pitching to Dorothy again but Stanley held up his hand.

“Theresa, Shaunda Rose is a nut. Tell her Stanley Manet said so. And yes, Manet was a Great-Great-Great Grandfather.” 

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S-Writings
 
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Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Part 4: Never Again – New Love for Jolene.


Please read Part 3 of ‘Never Again’ here.

Part 4: Never Again – New Love for Jolene.

“Sorry do I know you?” A handsome man around her age asked Jolene.” You seem familiar. And well, you’re beautiful, who could forget you.” Jolene indulged the man with a smile. She was anxious to return to Kasia and Aunt Cathy. No doubt Auntie Cathy had spilled all of Jolene’s carefully guarded secrets to Kasia.

“I don’t believe we’ve met before,” Jolene told the man. “I’m only visiting Cathy Lumiere, with my daughter. I’m Cathy’s niece. I used to live with Cathy when I was in highschool.”

” High school that’s it,” the man mused smiling. He had beautiful lips Jolene thought and such long dark lashes covered his chocolate eyes. “You were the head cheerleader and Prom Queen, you dated Scott Jeune. I never liked that guy. He was obnoxious and a narsaccist if you ask me.” Jolene looked at the man thinking he didn’t realize how true his opinion of Scott was.

” What’s your name, Monsieur?” Jolene asked the man.

“I’m Luc Devreaux, Jolene. I own Chateau Blanc.” Jolene’s eyes went huge when she learned Luc owned the Chateau. She studied his face, staring. Jolene tried to remember if she’d ever seen a Luke Devreaux at the Chateau.

Luc cleared his throat and Jolene realized he’d been holding out his hand for her to shake. Instead of shaking her hand though, he went in for a kiss on each of Jolene’s cheeks. Jolene blushed. Luc smelt delicious, spicy, and citrus.

“How French of you,” Jolene said and Luke gave her a charming grin.

“You have been gone so long you have forgotten about your French roots?” Luc asked Jolene and she hesitated at Luc’s question.

“Well, I travel a lot for work. I wasn’t from Nice or even France originally. I was born in Montreal, Canada. And except for business I have lived in Ottawa with my daughter for five years now… I’m trying to picture you Luc as you looked when I was in highschool, but I can’t remember you. I’m sorry, I was a wild girl at sixteen and seventeen -years-old. I went out with many boys until I met Scott. Lucky, the thing with Scott was only temporary.” Jolene felt she was rambling but Luc made her nervous in a wonderful way. He made her feel as if it were fine for her to be herself.

“Well we went out a few weeks,” Luc began, “but I wasn’t living at the Chateau then. I inherited it from my father later. Mon pere and ma mere have been divorced since I was twelve and I lived with my Mother, who had custody until I was eighteen. But I visited my Dad here in the summer. I remember you well from when you went to high school. You were amazingly pretty, full of yourself, but what pretty teenage girl isn’t. I wanted to keep seeing you, but Scott asked you out. Even though, I was a few years older than you, all you cared about was Scott.” Luc said sadly.

Jolene thought hard. Slowly, a few threads of memories came together in her mind. She remembered a  handsome guy, older than herself, who resembled Luc. She had met young Luc on the path to Chateau from the beach where she had been sun tanning. Luc had been good-looking in a classically handsome way, lanky and athletic. He wasn’t charismatic as Scott had been. But Luc as a young man was an unwavering presence. He was thoughtful and concerned about what she had liked and wanted to do. He had manners and everything wasn’t about himself. In addition, as he said, Luc had been older than Jolene. She had been attracted to the fact he was a university guy back when she was seventeen-years-old.

” I remember you Luc,” Jolene said happily. “You were visiting your father and we met on the pathway. It was dark and thundering and the waves were splashing high on the path. They waves were making it hard for me to stay standing on the pathway as I ran to the Chateau. You came and helped me across and we had hot chocolate together. We dated three-weeks, you were caring and concerned. I thought you were a real catch — until Scott. I was obsessed with Scott for far to long. I’m sorry if I hurt you, dumping you for Scott. You were the better guy.” Luc laughed and grasped Jolene’s hand between both of his larger hands.

“I’m glad you remember, finally,” Luc murmured. “I heard from some of the other staff that Cathy’s niece was going to be staying here awhile. I’m glad you are. I seem to remember we had quite a bit of fun in my old apartment when you were in senior year.”

Jolene lifted her eyebrows, “I believe we did.” Luc laughed.

“When you have time between visiting with your Aunt, come see me in my office. We can catch up… I never heard you had a daughter.” Luc added.

Jolene grinned her hands still enclosed in Luc’s warm hands, ” Yeah, she is great, fifteen now. I will come see you in a few days. I’m a bit run down from travelling and I have a lot of explaining to do with Aunt Cathy. . . when I left years ago it was quite sudden and we haven’t seen Aunt Cathy since.” Jolene admitted to Luc, unsure why she felt like being so honest with him.

” I’m not used to this again Luc. I haven’t dated or really done anything since my daughter was born. There’s been a few random dates but nothing concrete. It’s hard to trust someone for me Luc. Especially, after Scott . . .” Luc nodded brushing a stray hair out of Jolene’s face.

“It’s okay Jolene. We’ll just enjoy each other’s company while your here and see where things go. There is no pressure to do anything you are not comfortable doing.” Luc assured Jolene holding both her hands again.

Jolene looked into Luc’s eyes which seemed to pull her in and hold her close, like she wanted his arms to do now. She realized she had an affect on him as he tightened his hands around her hands and Luc’s breathing quickened.

” I work, I model a little and I run a chain of clothing stores for woman. I am with Kasia, my daughter as much as possible. I wasn’t always able to be with her when she was a bit younger as much.” Jolene said feeling herself flushing again under Luc’s stare.

“What a lucky girl to have a mother with such beauty and intelligence. I’m sure she inherited those qualities from you. I would like to take Kasia’s pretty mother to dinner, after she comes to visit me in my office. Oui?” Luc said. His voice sounded sexy to Jolene.

Oui, Luc,” Jolene said quietly. ” Kasia will be surprised. She has gone on more dates than her mother has in many years.” Luc smiled at Jolene squeezing her hands in his still. Luc let Jolene’s hands go slowly, trailing his fingers along hers as he let his own hands drop and hers.

Jolene walked away from Luc back to her Aunt Cathy’s sitting room, willing herself not to catch her black boot heel on a carpet edge. She looked back once to see Luc standing where she left him in a hallway, watching Jolene walk away. She gave him a small smile and Luc waved.

Part 5 is coming soon, today even!

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

 

Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner: You Leave, I’m not.


“The last time, everything fit in three duffles…” well, was never. I mean I have been collecting memorabilia in a trunk since I was a baby.

My apartment has books I am not willing to give up. It is a place to do my makeup and style my hair. It has a mini office, the refinished desk near the front door. The papers I’ve organized to do with taxes and health benefits are all there. The bedroom has our built in closet and dressers filled with my clothes, purses, and shoes. 

 You are aware living in Canada you need clothes for at least three seasons? Winter being the worst because sweaters, winter coats, and boots take up a great deal of space.  And when the weather is warm you need various kinds of shoes dependant on the occasion. 

What about the furniture I made-over with my time and talent? What about the bed I purchased with sheets, pillows, and a duvet and covers? What about the lamps, couches, and curtains? The appliances and electronics?

You want me to go. . . it’s my apartment. I lived here first. You want me to fit everything in those three duffle bags. You’re crazy. You can’t make me leave, that’s your job man whore… (shove). Oh, you fell and hit your head on the stairs. Call your own ambulance.

http://www.publucdomainarchive.com

Thanks to Roger Shipp for hosting this weeks challenge!

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.