Sunday Photo Fiction: The Creep #fiction #amwriting


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting the February 11th, 2018 Edition of SPF. This is a bit of a longer piece. Written for a writer’s course, around 500 Words as opposed to 200 Words or less. I cleaned it up and changed the original a bit.


Credit: J. Carol Hardy


Charlene twists her hair. The potent drink on the bar is her fifth tequila shot in an hour. The hazy, dreamlike atmosphere in the crowded town bar confuses her. Most of the crowd puff away, smoke lingering in the air, twisting above her, a toxic dragon of cigarette stench.

An attractive singer who isn’t local, belts out tunes while strumming his guitar. His catchy music has Charlene humming, her fingers tapping to the rhythm.

When he plays a soft song, the crowd boos. Some men throw beer bottles that smash and scatter glass against the small stage’s back wall. The singer peers around the room, his eyes darting back and forth. A bouncer drags away one of the offenders and the singer resumes his music, belting out cheerful tunes once more.

Charlene chuckles. As per usual, the town bar echoes with boisterous laughter and harmless drunks telling tale tales. Then, the creep beside her, pokes her arm. “Drink it, drink the shot.”

She peers up at him and his putrid breath makes her sick. “I don’t want it. Go away.” He leers and Charlene shivers.

She turns, stumbles towards the cracked vinyl booth where her coat and purse lay. Grabbing them she fumbles, zipping up her coat. The creep follows her and pinches her chin, trying to pour the shot into her mouth.

Warm tequila dribbles from her lips, acrid as she chokes. “No more, I don’t want anymore.” She cuts off his words, the poison of the creep’s lizard-tongue. “I’m going home — alone.”

Charlene teeters, leaning against the worn bar. She presses her hands against the humid backs of people waiting to buy more drinks. In open places, she leans on the bar, tracing it’s antique carvings, the dents on its worn surface. Jerry, one of the bartenders, slides her a glass of water. She nods at him, and swallows, her throat aching.

Past the bar, Charlene leans against a lone stool at a table. The stool wobbles on splintering legs. She grits her teeth, than sucks out a sliver of wood from her thumb. A gift from the table top.

Head spinning, Charlene lands in the quiet of the shuffleboard area, dizzy against the table. She presses her phone, fingers clumsy as she sends for an Uber. She downs more water from her purse. With some clarity, she wanders through sweat-soaked bodies towards the main door.

In the chill of the night, the creep is somehow beside her, waiting to follow her into her Uber. She ignores him, hobbling to a bouncer. “He’s following me, make him go away. He put something in my drink.”

The lie slips out; she doesn’t care. The creep who bought her five shots scares her. The bouncer’s blue eyes bulge. “No problem, Miss. I’ll ensure you get into the Uber alone.”

The bouncer offers the creep free beer to go back inside, and Charlene shivers, the wind biting at her face as flurries fly. She falls asleep inside the Uber, and the driver helps her into her apartment on the third floor. He takes the key from her hand and unlocks her door as she offers him a scrunched five-dollar bill.

“It’s fine. I don’t need help.”

The driver shakes his head. “That man you were running from, he’s bad. He has a different woman drunk each weekend night; he drugs many of them. The bouncer’s my friend, and he made sure you got into my Uber. We’re trying to catch him, but this a**holes too experienced to leave much evidence.”

The fact that the creep could’ve drugged her for ‘real’ makes Charlene ill. She rushes to the kitchen sink, throwing up multiple times.

The Uber driver ‘Ahems’ behind her. “I’m going now. Will you be okay?’

She nods. “Thank God, you’re a good man.”

“Stop accepting drinks from weird strangers. Don’t lead guys like him on. You have to think before you accept more than one drink; especially, in a small town like ours.”

Charlene nods, collapsing on the floor. She knows she’s asleep, but a sharp tempo beats against her temples. She’s half-awake, restless, afraid of the nightmares seeping in; the creep’s leering grin and eyes of a predator.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

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Poem: Quadrille – “The Catacombs” #amwriting #poetry #dVerse


Thanks to Paul Scribbles for hosting the ‘underground’ poem prompt theme for this week.

——-

Credit: Paris Trip Adviser

——-

In catacombs roaming, 

Creature of the dark decay. 

Sun burns flesh from bones, 

Igniting funeral pyres. 

We all must wander, 
I choose the catacombs;

Underground inhaling,

Dust of rotting flesh. 

Piercing tranquility, 

Screams of dead long past. 

Lullabys send us to bed,

Before yellow sapphire rises. 

Waiting for pitch coal;

Good becomes evil too easily. 
———

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Poem: Free Verse – “A Congested Mind” #poetry #amwriting 


http://www.pinterest.com

——–

They call it the unknown

The future lying before you. 

No matter if you’re psychic, 

No one knows what happens. 

There are varied scenarios,

Ways it could play out, 

But truly we don’t know the future

It’s a mystery creeping forward, 

And it pulls us along on our knees.

Whether we go willingly, 

Or go kicking and screaming;

Time marches in to the beat,

Of father time’s own drum. 

****

I don’t know what’s coming, 

I know worrying won’t help. 

I think sometimes I try to give advice, 

Reassuring myself in kind. 

There are bright possibilities, 

Hoping people become, 

More kind than they are mean to each other. 

Pray people look-out for each other, 

But sometimes I think society is self-centred. 

I admit to such fault and others too,

But I’m still fearful;

When I think of a year or two ahead, 

I’m afraid what if it’s not the right plan? 

Experience deftly taught me,

Plans are dim outlines of reality. 

Mostly, life goes where it goes

And God only knows where or why. 

Leading us through dark valleys, 

Into trenches with piercing bullets flying. 

Into classrooms with screaming kids, 

A gunmen on the loose. 

He leads us through to people, 

Whose power makes one nervous. 

How even democracy isn’t safe —

A tyrant could rule all. 

Maybe the world will surprise me, 

But I fear for the little person. 

*****

My own personal fears weigh heavy, 

Though others bear pains greater. 

Of lawyers and cases, 

Of corruption and crime. 

Those crimes we deem terrible;

Those crimes brushed under the rug. 

Greed and all those other sins,

Abhorred but freely ignored. 

Though I can never say what’s worse —

My own flaws or imperfections

Or those I’m faced with. 

Stress shows through cracks, 

Egg yokes running. 

No one likes raw eggs except in cookie dough

The future is overwhelming. 

But at least they’ll still be cookie dough, 

And I don’t know why —

I’m particular and observant

Why I know it’s better to be alone

Than be truly alone with another. 

Why I wait for that spark

Why I wait for the morning dawn. 

A smile in his eyes which is genuine

Wherever he is. 

But maybe happiness is a puppy

Paws following me on the hardwood, 

Barks at random sounds. 

The glory of a puppy skidding down —

The off leash trail and wheeling;

Turning around to jump on me, 

To pick her up when she’s tired. 

*****

My bones are stiff and ridged

My dreams fall to despair

So many books and writers, 

And not anyone can compare

How to rise above the masses, 

Or fill your own niche contented. 

But perhaps one could be something

Success in small moments. 
Afraid and weighted

Need to cry, tears unshed, 

Because disease is cruel. 
Even if Heaven is the end of the tunnel,

So many words are left unsaid

The timing of it all, does it work? 

I feel alienated

Though I try hard to keep the connection

It’s all in your planning Lord;

So must I say, your will be done.

——-

©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Music Prompt: Poem – Italian Sonnet – “Elysian Fields Await” #amwriting #poetry #musicchallenge #writing


This is last week’s music prompt for Friday hosted by MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie. It’s a song called, “Elysian Night” by Draconian. Hard metal isn’t my thing, but the lyrics are beautiful. 

——

“Elysian Night” – Draconian 

——-

http://www.jwartsales.com

——-

Am I nothing without you near my side? 

You feel so far away; I reach for you, 

Only whispers remain, piercing though true. 

I’m bleeding fast, death has no ounce of pride.

“Stay,” you beg, it’s a wish I can’t provide. 

But the sun rises as it always does through —

Whatever pain inflicted, we’ve small clue —

When it’s time — Elysian Fields reside. 

You want me to stay, for us to fly high, 

But death has been calling, counting sand grains, 

You’ll cry those fat tears, and you’ll wonder why? 

Love, I want to see another sunrise, 

But I’m bleeding, death’s crooning, we must divide, 

Elysian Fields wait with finally, no pain. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Poem: Free Verse – “The Battle Infinite” 


http://www.youtube.com

———

Demons dreaming, 

Surround me as I wake;
Oh give me serenity, 
Nightmares creep and ache.

Falling from a mind overwhelmed, 

By imagination on overdrive;

Let my mind be at peace,

Let the demons finally cease.

No understanding have I, 

Why the demons we slaughter,

Are always the same sin.

I defeated you before, 

But you come back for more;

The snake, loathsome reptile,

From Eden you did break.

Losing tiny snake legs, 

To strike a woman’s heel.

How dare you come back, 

To bring me down again.

I pray you keep your distance;

You keep moving closer.

Claustrophobia, panic, 

Praying you don’t turn me to granite;

Pulling out my weapons, 

I’ll battle Medusa harder still.

You can see the braided,

 Depths of my scars;

We know each other well old foe, 

But I won’t go down pleading;

I have light in my armour, 

Not the kind which normal snakes like;

The kind which burns,

Makes snakes writhe for life.

Pain will be your only friend, 

Old foe; you fight the same.

Each and every time I return, 

I don’t know why I turned my back on you;

Those not weary do not see, 

The enemy coming up behind, 

A dagger piercing my back; my heart.

A knock to my head; concussions blind;

But I heal fast, and I heal stronger.

Building my muscles each movement,

I recover; blood may flow, 

And I hurt all the same;

What’s worse, I can’t blame you for all, 

I do this to myself.

Will you ever learn stupid girl?

When are you no longer a frightened child?

There are no excuses to justify my crimes;

I know what is right and yet, 

Time and again I find my foe and fight.

A battle with motions memorized, 

A continual siege; I win and lose.

Pound you into the ground, 

Poison you with your potent venom;

But you bounce back and reform, 

Taking on another sin,

To challenge me for awhile;

Making it sound excellent, 

That such a rest wouldn’t be exuberant.

If I’m smart I liquefy you;

Your blood and more stain the ground.

But since I’m human, 

I complicate the issues.

And there are days I pause, 

To be attacked and left weaponless, 

Filled with panic and worry, 

Wandering the valley as the poison seeps deep.

Only in the coming of dawn do I delight, 

Fortitude returns and I smile small, 

Learning my lesson, 

Time and time again.

Experience keeps teaching despite, 

A woman who continues to decide who she is;

Not knowing, not realizing, 

Life is a gory battle, no one escapes.

The scar tissue builds upon scars;

Wounds of war are often the worst, 

When we are not expecting them.

Pulling the dagger from my own back;

It’s a pain I hate to remember vividly.

But I got up;

And I walked on. 

Feeling the dawn heal me;

As I kept on the road.

To another traveller I might seem,

A terrified, desperate girl.

Yet more often I see the same look in another’s eyes;

The knowledge of heart break, repentance, and experience.

A cycle doomed to repeat until we’ve finally learned;

Bigger hands than ours must deal the blows.

Hands which hold,

Entirety of unknown and known universes;

Hands which cradle the world.

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.