Fiction: What A Million Dollars Won’t Buy #amwriting #fiction


Here’s another piece from my course, edited of course.


Credit: Paul Paul @ProdigyPaul via Unsplash.


Eugene steps onto the plane as his stomach summersaults. In Eugene’s seat, fellow author Jerry Norman, reclines.

“I need the legroom, let an old man have the aisle.”

Eugen shakes his head ‘no.’ He stows his carry on and sits. “Thanks a million for not making this difficult, Jerry. The aisle seats are quicker to leave from when the plane lands.” Eugene winks.

Jerry’s eyes narrow. “I’d watch it if I were you. I don’t like you sassing me.”

Eugene grins, then his stomach flips. The plane’s wheels come off the runway, and he buries his face in his hands. He swears under his breath between prayers until the plane achieves flying altitude.

Jerry laughs, “Think you’re some tough guy, eh? You take an old man’s seat than can’t handle take off?”

Eugene rolls his eyes. He notes Jerry’s red face with sweat gleaming. His hands are fisted tight around the armrests. “I don’t think you’re such a flier yourself. You’re a bit of bullshitter, aren’t you, Jerry?”

“That’s neither here nor there, Eugene. I’ve ridden on a plane that’s nearly crashed. Stop being such an asshole. I’m not a bad guy.”

Eugene snorts. He removes his iPad from the seat pocket and closes his eyes to the latest Avengers movie. When he awakes, screams of terror resonate. His stomach lurches as the plane nose dives, rattling, bumping up, and down as the left engine sputters.

Eugene believes he’s having a nightmare. He blinks, and everything around him occurs in slow-motion. The breathing masks tumble down, and Eugene gulps in oxygen at a slow even pace.

Beside him, Jerry has knocked his head on the window and passed-out. Despite Eugene’s dislike for him, he stretches as far as he can. He displaces his oxygen mask for a moment, and attaches Jerry’s. Then, he does the only thing he can think of doing, he smacks Jerry across the cheek to wake him.

“Jerry, come on. Your head’s bleeding, and you can’t sleep until you see a doctor.” He watches Jerry’s pupils dilate as he sucks in deep breaths of oxygen. Eugene’s numbness permits him to remain calm as the plane alters from a nose dive to a straight position above a grassy field. The landing is rough and jars everyone. At the end, Jerry catch’s his eye. Both mean realize the plane nearly crashed.

Eugene’s numbness fades as his nails dig blood-filled crescents into his palms. When they leave the plane and slide into a verdant feel, he turns to Jerry. “Stay awake, we need to find you an ambulance before you fall down right here.” The other author leans against Eugene, as he supports him. They find a paramedic who checks them both over for injuries.

Eugene thinks of the million dollars he could’ve had for arriving early to the writer’s conference both and he Jerry were attending.

“All that money wasn’t worth this.” Jerry fumbles over his words, but Eugene knows they are the absolute truth. He nods at Jerry lying in a stretcher in an ambulance waiting to leave for the hospital.

“I’ll come with you, Jerry, might as well. Someone has to call your family and let them know what happened.” Jerry makes a noise, Eugene assumes is agreement.

He closes his eyes for a moment. One million dollars.


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

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Flash Fiction for the Aspiring Writer: Poem – Lauranelle – “The Best Wait Ever” #amwriting #poetry #flashfiction 


Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting FFftAW.

—–

Credit: Dawn M. Miller

——-

Painfully stuck in airport for hours wait, 

Sitting here staring the clock ticks slowly. 

Here with you life’s perfect –it doesn’t grate. 

My arm falls asleep, your heavy head rolls, 

Further onto my chest; I need to get up. 

Legs start to tingle, I’ve sat too long so —

I gently moving your head; my ‘buttercup,’ 

You hate when I call you that but you make me smile. 

Happiness, tranquility; I’m drugged. 

Departure board reads, plane is still awhile. 

Walking for coffee, some lunch, magazines. 

You’re awake when I return, you beguile;

Your grin makes you quiver and I preen. 

Unaware we stare, our stare held timeless.

You appreciate me (and food); your eyes gleam. 

We’re both stuck here all night, it’s liveable, 

We both forge a tighter bond insurmountable. 

Painfully stuck in airport for hours wait. 

Here with you, life’s perfect — it doesn’t grate. 

—–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

Three Line Tales: Three Views On A Train #amwriting #3linetales


Thank you to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting the 3 Line Tales challenge.

——

Wilson Lau

——-

1. “All my bags are packed, I’m ready to go. . .” Da da da da da da da da, “So kiss me and smile for me, tell me that you’ll wait for me, hold me like you’ll never let me go; cause I’m leaving on a jet plane, don’t know when I’ll be back again. . .” Lydia kept singing the same parts of the popular song she knew; she was mad at her husband Dan because she had wanted to fly to their destination; Lydia was unimpressed when Dan announced they’d be travelling hours and hours by train; well since Dan didn’t ask her if she agreed with travelling by train, she was going to sing what she knew of “Leaving On A Jet Plane,” until Dan’s ears hurt, her throat was soar, and Dan remembered the message. 

——

2.  Trains, planes, and automobiles, you chose the train; and I think it’s lovely we get to see the lush foil age of the countryside; trees every now and then with budding green leaves, deer and bison grazing in the wilderness; then, it began to pour and rain, the rain was loud as it hit the roof of the train car, it poured and dripped down the windows and sightseeing along the way to Vancouver became a washed out greyish-green window; I could follow the tracks of raindrops on the window and every time a drop stopped I sighed; this game was boring and I wanted to be in Vancouver already, flying was actually cheaper; I didn’t mind that there was no view, the view would come walking through the streets of the city, green everywhere and flowers and fruit blooming.

—–

3. “When I’m gone, when I’m gone, you’re gonna miss me when I’m gone; you’re gonna miss my by my hair, you’re gonna miss me everywhere, oh you’re going to miss me when I’m gone . ..” Darren sang the Johnny Cash tune as he stepped onto the train; adventure awaited and he could take his bike with him; he was excited, and enjoying travelling across Europe; Darren was young, barely twenty-years-old, but seeing all he’d seen, he never regretted not for one moment, dropping everything and flying to Europe, where Darren rode the train everywhere he went; in every city and country he could explore and absorb into his youthful mind.

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practioner: Bowling for Retrievers


” Of all the places I thought I would end up New Year’s Eve” it wasn’t beside a blind man on a plane with his guide dog Daisy. She was a beautiful friendly golden retriever. I wasn’t supposed to pet her but I couldn’t help myself when those chocolate eyes looked at me.  

I was going to Housten to compete in a bowling competition. I know what you’ll say: “Bowling, what kind of sport is that?” Well it’s a good one. I enjoy it and it keeps me relatively fit and when you’re not bowling you get to sit and drink with your buddies.

Suddenly, Daisy began to bark and whimper at Sam who was eerily still. It appeared Sam had peacefully passed away in his sleep. 

I kept Daisy with me when they took Sam to the morge. There was a funeral and I went. I heard his wife wondering what they were going to do with the dog who was too old to go to a new blind person. 

I spoke up then, “I’ll take her,” I said. Sam loved that dog and I would love her too. “Daisy” I whisper to her while petting her ears ” you and I are going to be great bowlers.” 

Word Count: 194 words

 

public-domain-images-free-stock-photos-alley-ball-bowl.jpg
 
Thanks to  RogerShipp for hosting this weeks challenge with the prompt picture and beginning line: 

“Of all the places I thought I would end up on New Year’s Eve…” 

——

©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved. 

Literary Lion: House of the Rising Sun and Comments


The House Of The Rising Sun – The Animals (And Comments)

gambling picture
http://www.minddisorders.com Gambling

 

There is a house in New Orleans
(I live in Las Vegas actually)
They call the Rising Sun
(It’s called Caesar’s  Palace)
And it’s been the ruin of many a poor boy
(Yes, many men have lost their money here)
And God, I knows I’m one

(But not me, not today).

My mother was a tailor

(My mother she’s an accountant).
She sewed my new blue jeans
(We bought my jeans from wherever I wanted them from).
My father was a gamblin’ man
(My Dad likes to gamble so my Mom controls the money).
Down in New Orleans
( Down in Las Vegas)
Now the only thing a gambler needs
( I don’t need much when I’m here)
Is a suitcase and trunk
( Just free drinks and some red chips)
And the only time he’s satisfied
(I swear I’m satisfied, but maybe just one more try at Black Jack)
Is when he’s on a drunk

( Nothing wrong with a few drinks).

[Organ Solo]

Oh mother, tell your children

(Well maybe, I spend too much time here and you shouldn’t let your children do the same)
Not to do what I have done
(Maybe tell them to get a real job and not to gamble your life away)
Spend your lives in sin and misery
(Everyday I am here; I pay for my sins, and I’m miserable because I can never win enough).
In the House of the Rising Sun

( At any hotel casino down the strip or downtown).

Well, I got one foot on the platform

( I managed to leave Las Vegas for awhile but now I’m waiting at the airport)
The other foot on the train
( I’m walking onto the plane)
I’m goin’ back to New Orleans
(I’m goin’ back to Las Vegas)
To wear that ball and chain

( I can’t stay away, the chips are calling my name)

Well, there is a house in New Orleans

( There is a place in Las Vegas)
They call the Rising Sun
( It’s called Caesar’s Palace)
And it’s been the ruin of many a poor boy
( It’s ruined my life, I’m always there or going back)
And God, I know I’m one
(Yes, God know’s my life is ruined by my gambling addiction)
 
 
House of The Rising Sun Music Video
 
 
 
 
 
Thanks to I Smith Words for the prompt gamble.
—–
 ©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.
 

Writing 101 – Both Saw 2 Different Things


Two gentlemen looking, saw very different things,
One saw a girl with laughter in her smile and sunshine on her face.
One saw a girl serious and cold, she sat in the shade and hid her plane face.
The other saw beauty breath taking delight, rosy cheeks, and butterfly kisses.
The other saw skin deathly pale, and ugliness that had crept in with the promise of death.
And those two individuals they saw what they saw, one caught up in grace and in an ethereal light.
The other saw darkness and more to the point, the blackness which invades the soul and can not be vanquished but with the sun.
And they saw two dissimilar faces as that girl walked before them, one touching his view point with the brightest of smiles, one pressing his point with the darkness of frowns.
The girl wore a dress delicate and refined, the whitest of whites that shone in the dawn.
The second one saw that the dress was tattered, fading in places, ripped in some, bleached until it was a white that could be destroyed and torn.
The first man thought her hair was golden blond, glossy and brilliant and floating round her head, the veil of an angel as she danced down the street with vitality.
His partner saw hair fake and discoloured, no one had hair as shiny and blond as that, so he called her an imposter and judged her appearance, said she was vermin, and that he knew it.
And the girl flitted down the street disappearing, while one man called her nimble the other called her rude.
But it’s the strangest of things what two different people will see.
One will see good things, the other only misery.
As a fairy tale might mention, one man was a prince, the other a beast.