Fiction, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Pinterest, Quotes, Three Line Tales, Writing Challenges

Three Line Tales: Pink Elephants #quotes #pinterest #3LineTales


Thanks to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3Linetales.

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Credit: Dimitri Popov from Unsplash

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1. “The Elephant In The Room. . . “

http://www.pinterest.com

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2. 

http://www.pinterest.com

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3. ——

http://www.pinterest.com

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Cinquin 2,4,6,8,2 - unrhymed, Music and Performers, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Religion/Morality, Seven syllable Poetry, Writing

November Notes: Day 2 – Poem – Cinquin – “It’s Fine” #novembernotes #amwriting #poetry


Today’s prompt song is by Jason Mraz, “Details in the Fabric.” 

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“Details in the Fabric” – Jason Mraz. 

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http://www.sendscraps.com

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It’s fine

Not to be fine.

 Life isn’t usually fine.

Life often hurts, a painful time; 

Not fine. 

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It’s right

To not be right, 

To feel uncomfortable, 

You don’t need to feel everything —

Is right. 

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It hurts, 

You don’t need to —

Fake it here, to pretend. 

It’s okay to feel pain outloud, 

Life hurts. 

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It’s weird, 

No one’s normal, 

But we pretend normal —

Exists, when we’re all our own weird;

Be weird. 

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Okay, 

You’re okay, 

You can make it through and —

Find happiness hiding there, 

Okay? 

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You’re fine, 

You’re stronger than–

You even think and you’ll —

Make it through the storms life brings you; 

You’re fine. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, Health, My Thoughts, Nature, Relationship, Three Line Tales, Writing

Three Line Tales: Before The Wedding #3LineTales #amwriting #fiction 


Thank you to Sonya of Only 100 Words for hosting #3LineTales.

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Ben Rosett

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 The future awaits as I stand behind the swing hesitating. It reminds me of when I was a small girl, riding the swing and pumping my legs back and forth. Often, I would end up flipping the swing, riding it too high. My mom would be so upset at yell at me for scaring her each time I flipped the swing. 

Today I sit down on the swing which is aggravatingly difficult with all these layers of tulle, silk, and lace. I don’t want to grass stain my gown before my big moment down walking down the aisle. I rock and swing my body using my barefoot and I’ve taken off my couture Jimmy Choos wedding shoes. 

 I swing softly and think and I wonder what my future will be like when the weddings over? The truth is no one knows what the future will bring, especially not me. I see the light of sun shining down upon my dress, to me on this day, this light is my hope. Such a brilliant sun could only mean a beautiful life ahead. 

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My girl sits on the swing, rocking back and forth gently, her veiled head leaning against the rope on one side of the swing. Weddimg guests begin to gather sitting in white wooden chair. Some of the guest gaze back at the bride who thoughtfully swings, humming a familiar tune. I wonder what’s going on in her confounding mind and then she peers back at me and smiles brightly. 

I’m not supposed to see her in her white dress yet, so I grin and pretend to cover my eyes as she laughs, telling me to go away. That we’ll be married before we know it. Through my fingers I stare at her, she’s so beautiful. I can feel my heart thumping against my chest –I seem to be nervous after all.

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Years later, I think back to that moment when our whole lives were before us. Holding each other’s hands and murmuring our wedding vows. Now I cling to her thin hand in the hospital bed as my love seems to disintegrate before me. One never knows what lies ahead and I think that’s a gift. If we knew what our future was, we would never move forward. 

But I see the light of heaven shining upon my wife. I feel this warm healing light on my own body and we stare at each other and smile as the Lord calls us both home. The next morning the nurses find us, our bodies cold. We have already gone onto better things. We left holding hands, the same way we began. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved

Fairy Tale Themed, Fiction, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Relationship, Writing, Writing Challenges

Photo (Collage) Prompt: Adventures in Wonderland Continued #amwriting #fiction 


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s collage photo prompt.


collage31
MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie

“Think left and think right and think low and think high. Oh, the thinks/things you can think up if only you try!”

― Dr. Seuss


Alice was growing older and she hadn’t been to Wonderland in years. Yet, she had not forgotten the lessons she learned there. 

She was an imaginative girl, so much so her mother could not figure out where Alice came up with her fanciful ideas. 

But Alice’s mother adored her daughter so she let her creativity run free, including playing outside and having tea with her imaginary friends.

While having tea, Alice talked to the Mad Hatter, the White Rabbit, the Door Mouse, and March Hair. Often, she talked to a smoking Catipillar, whom her mother naturally disapproved of. But Alice only laughed at her mother saying: 

” Why the Caterpillar needs the medicine he smokes. He’s in a great deal of pain becoming a butterfly.” 

 Alice’s mother had been making ice tea in a pitcher as it was summer. Alice didn’t know what to do at first, her friends enjoyed hot tea. But she determined after a while, they would have to make do with ice tea. She poured the cold tea into her prized teapot. 

She brought the tea to the marigolds and dandilions in the field by her house and poured the cold tea at the base of all her flower friends. She even brought them a few cookies, which she crumbled around their stems.

Sometimes Alice liked to sit out in the field and read. She brought out a fancy white cushioned chair from the parlour to a field of grass and flowers. She sat there considering life and paging through a novel. She was wearing a hat her grandma had given her to keep the sun from her face. 

Alice fell asleep outside in the chair and dreamed she was in Wonderland. She dreamt she had eaten bread to make her big and tall. 

She found herself next to a curious house with the appearance of a giant 🍐 pear ; it had a small red door with steps going down to the grass below. 

There was a handsome Raven sitting on the house, opposite of where Alice stood. She placed her ear against the house, trying to hear if anyone was inside. 

“You won’t find anyone in there,” the Raven told Alice.

“But why wouldn’t they be at home?” Alice asked. “Its Wonderland, creatures here don’t go to work even if they’re adults. Besides, wouldn’t a mother or wife be at home?” 

“I wouldn’t quite call them adults and it’s presumptuous to think all women should stay at home.” 

“If they’re not adults, how come they have a house?” Alice wondered. She looked back to the Raven, “I only thought the wife or mother  might be home because she could be like my mother who stays home.” 

Alice sat down, reaching towards the small red doorway of the pear 🍐 house; it was locked up tight. “Why is the door locked? Who would break into their home here? My father never locks our door.” 

The Raven chuckled in the weird way birds do, “I think they are avoiding unwanted guests of giant proportions.” 

“Also, I think you’re forgetting everyone needs something to do in the day, work or otherwise. We all have tasks, seasons of life to experience, even in Wonderland.”

“Seasons of life?” Alice asked confused. “Well, what season am I in? I don’t feel young, but I’m certainly not old. I’m only nine. But since coming to Wonderland years ago, I think of things adults don’t even consider.”

The Raven squawked, continuing to chuckle. 

“Hmmm,” Alice said, “It only occurred to me, no one ever told me why a Raven is like a writing desk?” 

The Raven ignored Alice but began to whistle a discordant tune.

“That’s awful,” Alice said but he continued his song. 

When he stopped he peered with little black eyes at Alice, “See everyone has a song to sing. Not everyone thinks their neighbour’s song is pretty, but it’s their song and so they must sing it.”

“It is the same with the creatures in this pear 🍐 house. They are off singing their life song, doing what they feel they are meant to do in life, in this season.” 

“Each part of life has a song,” the Raven said. “I hear you singing your song when you’re out in the fields having tea with your Wonderland friends, using your imagination. You’re in the spring of life and your song is lovely and new.”

“But,” continued the Raven, “I am in the Winter of my life. I’ve had many children and I am old, but I sing my song anyways. Even when we are old, we have a purpose and must sing our own song.” 

Alice thought a long while about the seasons, singing, and what the Raven told her. Then she smiled, ” I understand what you mean now. But do you think you and the owners of this pear 🍐 house would mind joining my other Wonderland friends and myself for tea?” 

The Raven cawed laughing at Alice. He nodded his little black head and flew away. 

The next moment, Alice awoke and found herself sleeping in her mother’s plush parlour chair out in the grassy field. Her mother looked down on her gently and smoothed Alice’s hair: 

“Alice there you are. Oh, my good chair. It’s white and you’ve got dirt and grass all over it,” mother said sternly. 

Alice sleepily smiled and said,” I was in Wonderland and talking to a Raven about the songs we each sing in life in different seasons. I’m sorry about the chair Mama.”

Her mother shook her head sighing and ruffled Alice’s hair, “Oh you and Wonderland. Will you ever grow out if it? Little girls will be attending school again in Fall.”

Alice sighed and helped her mother bring the chair back into the house to be cleaned. She decided to visit the roses in the backyard later.

Aluce had told her mother many strange stories about red roses. So much so, Alice’s mother gave her the job of watering and caring for the roses in the garden; she babied her roses. She didn’t want anyone to think she’d been painting her roses and that they weren’t truly red — that always led to problems. 

She wondered about what season of life the roses and all the flowers in the field were in? What was their purpose except to be beautiful? Alice began to hum the particular song of the flowers, watering her roses and caring for them. 

Suddenly, she remembered it was her birthday in a week. She would be ten-years-old; how could she forget? She must go inside the house and remind her mother she needed more bowls to match her tea set. 

For a moment Alice sighed thinking about school beginning soon. Children at school didn’t understand her much. Often, they knew less about things than many adults. Girls at school sang their own songs and Alice as usual, sang a unique tune. 


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved

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

3Lines Tales: I Hate You Piano


Thank you so much to the lovely Sonya from 100 words or Less for hosting this prompt.

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Jessie Orrico

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1. Dear Piano, I have mixed feelings about you; in fact, I still kind of hate you because my parents made me play and practice you until I was seventeen-years-old and at times you sounded decent when I played you but mostly I was terrible at playing piano and my D refused to understand that I detested playing you.  
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2. Some people are extremely talented at playing you piano but I have never been one of them even though I spent ten long years playing you; how D never understood I was awful at playing piano I don’t know, maybe he had this illusion of my talent;what’s worse, my brothers were done playing you by early Junior High, but I had to continue playing you through high school and my only consolation is I can read music well and I’m good at figuring out how to sing the harmony line in a country song.

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3. I was done with you piano when D made me play piano along with his singing group; I can’t play without being able to practice even once or twice but he put me on the spot and I stumbled through trying to play this hymn D’s group was singing; I kept hitting the wrong notes and the other members of D’s group kept giving me dirty looks as if to say, ‘why are you still screwing up;’ for me that was the end of any love I had for you piano because I was humiliated and I didn’t want to pretend I could play you for church anymore or for any of D’s future singing groups; I suck okay, I’m not a piano player and I’m not one bit ashamed that I have lost what small skill I had playing piano; I’ve decided it’s better when I listen to someone with talent playing piano and appreciate you piano, that way. 

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Wanted to pop this in hear. Music isn’t all bad. In fact listening and playing to music can have great Benefits please check-out this link: https://www.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=10156767582695655&id=762335654

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

My Thoughts, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Three Line Tales, Travel, Writing

3LineTales: Sailing In Love, Remembering His Dad, The Tuna Who Ate Willy.


Thanks to Sonya from 100 Words Or Less for hosting this prompt.

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Charlie Harutaka

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1. I adore the colour oceanic blue, it’s almost turquoise with a hint of green in it; our sale boat has stripes of oceanic blue across it’s sails and I look up at them with appreciation as the sails flutter and dance in the strong winds of the ocean; In awe I stare at the finely muscled man guiding the sail boat and letting it go as he greets me with a hedonistic kiss, and I stare into his oceanic blue eyes as he loves me in our cabin below deck.

2. My name is Charlie and I am five-years-old; I don’t know my Dad but my Mom says he liked to sail and that this summer she is going to take me sailing like my Dad and her used to do; I can’t wait, every night I play with the toy ship my Dad gave me (although Mom says it’s not a toy but something to remember Dad by) and I pretend I am sailing the ocean with my Mom and my Dad; we sail everywhere, the three of us together.

3. His face had deep-set wrinkles as if they had been creased on his withered skin forever; he smoked a pipe and I recall the whirls of smoke curling up into the air as he sat inside the coffee shop/bate shop and considered his fishing boat; his name was Willy and Willy and his crew went out everyday in his fishing boat to where the most gigantic Tuna swam; they were huge fish, and some brought in near ten thousand dollars; the story goes, one day Willy set out to catch the biggest Tuna he had ever seen and instead of catching the Tuna on his fishing rod, the line snapped and Willy tumbled into the ocean and was swallowed by the enormous Tuna; Willy’s never been seen again.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers: Just Pretend


Tara, Jane, and I,  live in a sorority house by the lake. We all go to university near it. When the three of us first wanted into the Beta sorority house, we were froshed and taken in a boat out into the lake at night and we were pushed into the water. We had to swim back to shore in the dark.

” Kayla,” Tara remarked to me one day ” I can’t live like this, I feel so guilty.”

” There were twelve pledges that night we were pushed out into the water and only nine came back. I think they drowned.” Jane said agreeing with Tara.

” Drowned,” I muttered thoughtfully, ” I’m sure they made it back, just later than the rest of us.”

Tara looked at me nervously, “what do you think the sorority heads would do to us if we told?”

“I’m not sure,” Jane mumbled “but I don’t think we’d survive it.”

” Just pretend” I said ” if we say the girls made it back to land safely then it’s true, and we don’t have to think about it anymore.”

” Just pretend.” Jane and Tara said in unison. It was agreed.

Word Count: 185 words

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Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting!