Friday Fictioneers: It #amwriting #flashfiction 


Thanks to Rochelle Wissoff-Fields for hosting FF. 

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Credit: Peter Abbey

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Sorry about the tiny text, I don’t know how to fix it on the iPad. 

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Why is this bridge bothering me, besides a bit of claustrophobia? I can feel my adrenaline pumping, my fight or flight response taking over.

In the fading twilight, my eyes peer everywhere, searching for something, whatever is out there. As I step across the bridge it creaks. Then I swear I hear heavy breathing, a growl perhaps? I start to run and the end of the bridge is ten steps in front of me. 

Then, I am across the bridge and I hear nothing. It’s trying not to make a sound and the silence makes me sweat. Minutes pass, I believe fifteen? I sigh, shaking my head, thinking I’ve been afraid of something I imagined.

Then, it grabs me, sharp teeth sinking in; it’s too late to scream. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

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Photo Challenge: Poem – Blitz – “Still As Your Breath” #amwriting #poetry


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

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Credit:SIrLounge.com

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In dress of Emerald green unfurling, 

Unfurling and scampering, the forest behind 

Behind her hair of onyx locks

Behind her the forest forms, her dream image 

Image of imp, earthen worm silk for her gown

Image of child feet bare on the ground

Ground echoes as she pants and runs 

Ground misting with fog on grey lake

Lake where the monsters swim

Lake where they slither and with trickery bid

Bid her come swim 

Bid her come beneath the surface

Surface of lake reflective mirror

Surface of mind, smoke cascading from hair 

Hair the metaphor of her thoughts

Hair rising with caustic smoke

Smoky, the sky is dim and grey

Smoky, her thoughts show disarray 

Disarray of the mind and she scatters

Dissray of her feet on dying grass

Grass beloved in spring

Grass lush and wild around her

Her the woman, the sprit

Her the goddess –only in her mind

Mind overflowing she burns black thoughts

Mind recreates as she destroys smoke black 

Black as her hair, the ravens are jealous

Black as her pupils, focused on running

Running from life, imp of nature

Running until lungs burst

Burst with her blackness inhaled

Burst with the need for fresh air

Air breathed in and out

Air the forest created

Created as she makes trees 

Created to help her and us breathe 

Breathe the freshest lake air

Breathe and feel free to live

Live but how? 

Live but why? She’s black soot scent

Scent of tar from smoke

Scent of wildflower and rain

Rain and her dress greener still grows

Rain and her tears are diamonds 

Diamond of nature stop fleeing 

Diamond of nature flawed — just stand 

Stand silent and inhale fresh mountain air

Stand and inhale new beginning — be still

Still as your breath and the silence gives rest

Still as your breath and the silence gives rest. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Three Line Tales: Running The Race #3LineTales #quotes


Thank you to Sonya of 100 Words or Less for hosting 3 Line Tales.

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Martins Zemlickis

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Personally, I’m not a runner. I have always hated it. But I know some people such as my Dad for instance, love it. I don’t understand it. Even when I was fit, I much enjoyed the elliptical, skating machine, or an exercise class as compared to running.

 I didn’t mind it so much in volleyball or basketball in high school. I think because we only did so much running, and the rest was practicing skills. Not to mention, for many years of school, I attended schools near the river valley. 

Everybody thinks that is great, but I had allergies, and running through the river trails ended up with me wheezing. 

Anyways, here is three quotes for you runners out there.

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1. 

http://www.pinterest.com

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http://www.pinterest.com

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3. 

http://www.pinterest.com

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

NaPoWriMo: Poem – Tritina – “Valley Beach” 


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Our (optional) prompt for Day Seven comes to us from Gloria Gonsalves, who challenges us all to write a tritina. The tritina is a shorter cousin to the sestina, involving three, three-line stanzas, and a final concluding line. Three “end words” are used to conclude the lines of each stanza, in a set pattern of ABC, CAB, BCA, and all three end words appear together in the final line.

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Please see NaPoWriMo for more information. Also, I am doing The Daily Prompt word prompt, using the word Tricky.

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http://www.galmeiri.blogspot.com

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Wind blowing in the valley where we always go,

Where serenity arrives with the oceanic tide,

Grass fragrant, rustles in the valley we reside,

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Running through grass, escape life to ocean reside,

Valley’s hush, mystical, tricky path where we go,

On the beach, sand softens feet, running through the tide,

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Laying towels, white sand, resting here, hear the tide,

Walking home, grass flicks our calves, back home we reside.

In tomorrow’s heat, to the valley we’ll go.

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Tricky tides pull, in the valley we reside — go.

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Hi, just wanted to leave a little note to those whose posts I usually comment on, and those bloggers who follow me. I’m taking a break from blogging this week, most everything but completing the posts I need to. I might comment on the odd post, but for most posts I will get to on the weekend or next week 🙂 Thanks for understanding! 

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner: Some Things Don’t Mix Like You Hoped


Sierra knew she shouldn’t be driving but she hadn’t been drinking since 1:00 am. The last song in the bar by Tim McGraw, played over in Sierra’s head: “Diamond Rings and Old Barstools.”

Sierra had been terribly upset at the end of the evening. Leaving quickly, when she spotted an old ex-boyfriend in the crowd. Casper’s clear green eyes had met Sierra’s intense blue and Sierra had fought her way through the crowd to the door.

Casper wasn’t any old boyfriend. He had broken Sierra’s heart ending their engagement two-years ago for no valid reason.

Sierra darted into the frosty morning and started her car. As she drove away she saw Casper standing outside the bar doors, staring at her car.

Sierra blinked with heavy eyes. The road ahead was blurred, shiny with odd lights, and the sun appeared to be rising . She checked her phone it read 6:15 am; Sierra had been driving aimlessly for three -hours.

She thought of Casper while driving into the morning sun. Lines from the Tim McGraw song came back to her: “I guess some things don’t mix like you hoped / Like me and you /  And Diamond rings and old barstools.” 

Tears leaked out of Sierra’s eyes, falling down her cheeks. She began crying so hard she had to pullover.” [S]ome things don’t mix like you hoped . . .” 

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http://www.publucdomainarchive.com
 
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“Diamond Rings and Old Barstools” – Tim McGraw

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Thanks to Roger Shipp fo hosting FFftPP.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

A List of People, Living or Dead, I’d Like to Meet


Thank you to La Duchesse D’erat for her prompt for a list this week.

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1. My Grandpa Eifert – My Grandpa died on my fourteenth Birthday. He had been in hospital quite a few weeks and they were preparing to move him into a senior’s home for assisted living. He smoked a lot when he was younger and didn’t stop until his fifties. By then, it was almost too late. On the Eifert side of the family, there are ‘bad lungs’ so it’s especially stupid to smoke but when my Grandpa started most everyone smoked. 

He had emphysema from smoking and that early July 16th morning he died, the nurses said Grandpa’s heart had been working at a pace of someone running for twenty-years.

I miss Grandpa a lot. I talk to him sometimes. I don’t know if he hears me. But I wish we could play a game of chess or I could share with him a good book I’ve read. I would like to be with him for even an hour, and we wouldn’t have to say anything. Only, being with him again would be enough.

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2. John Donne – He is simply one of the greatest and best poets whoever lived. Maybe, that’s debatable but his poetry is so vivid, full of imagery, and he seems like he was a genuine person. I liked his poetry, how in his youth his poems are about his lady friends and he grows up and eventually becomes a Cleric in the Anglican Church. I would love to discuss his poetry with him and his thoughts on the time. He was a Renaissance man, and the relationship he has with his wife, is one I would like to have with a guy someday. Check-out some of his poems I love below:

– A Valediction: Forbidding Mourning

Love’s Alchemy

– Song: Go And Catch A Falling Star

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3. William Shakespeare – How could you not want to meet Shakespeare? The author of so many wonderful plays that even today we still have performed, laugh and cry over. We love his comedies, his tragedies, and even if we must his historical plays. One of my favourite activities to do in June and July is to go to Hawerlack Park with my friends and see Shakespeare’s plays performed. You can grab an ice cream or some of our famous Alley Kat local beer and watch the show from the amphitheatre outside. I would have so many questions about Shakespeare’s plays, why he did this and that. What was his most prized work? And yes, you can read Shakespeare, it only takes practice. Rearrange his lines as you read them, they often make more sense. Here are a couple of my favourite plays below: 

– Anthony and Cleopatra
– A Mid Summer Night’s Dream

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4. My Mom on her Wedding Day – Yes, Mom is fine. Nothing happened. But I have always wondered what she was like before she had kids. She sewed her own wedding dress, and she was so pretty in it. She was so young and skinny. I would have liked to know her then. To know what her dreams and aspirations were. I would like to know what made her choose to marry my Dad ( he’s a great guy, I’m just curious). I would like to know how she felt at thirty with three young children and how she did it. It would be educational I think and interesting.

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5. I would like to meet a whole bunch of actors, to know what they dream of, what they value, to understand why they work how they work, before they are huger stars then they already are. Or, if they are big stars, I’d like to hear their stories about their lives. I would like to meet Jennifer Lawrence, Jamie Dornan, Dakota Johnson, Theo James, Orlando Bloom, Nina Dobrev, Kerry Washington, Patrick Dempsey, Kiera Knightley, George Clooney, Ian Somerhaulder, Hugh Jackmen, Michelle Pfeiffer, and Meryl Streep. 

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers: On The Run


I’m trying to blend into the people who are out on Whyte Avenue at night. I’m starving but afraid to stop. I step into a noisy pool hall blending in with a blonde guy and his buddy. We team up and win some money from teams of other Pool players.

I’m near the airport and I sigh at the far walk ahead until I find a bicycle unlocked. I ride hard and buy an early plane ticket to Vancouver. I devour breakfast first.

As I leave the Vancouver airport on the train, I see him. How did Kieran find me? I sob earnestly, as I reach my Motel room.

Kieran catches me leaving after sleeping. He holds me as I shiver at the chemistry between us. I can’t risk being his girl.

” Why are you running Audrey? Don’t you know I’ll always find you? You’re my person, “he murmurs.

“I’m afraid” I whisper ” I’m scared of having a happy life. I’m scared I’ll lose it.”

Kieran grasps my hands, ” Audrey, I  love you and will never leave you. You don’t have to run anymore.” Kieran has said the right thing. I have security.

Word Count: 180 words

http://www.pixebay.com

Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting. Great job PJ!

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction: It’s Her


There sits the statue of a dog. I remember a certain dog.  She had the qualities of queenleness, loyalty, and love. She was the bringer of fun to a childhood of bike rides down the off leash paths and long walks in the river valley. 

 She ran for miles with my Dad. My Mom said it would not surprise her if that is how the dog died, running her heart out. My Dad had a t-shirt that read: My running partner has four legs. The dog didn’t leave this world running; I don’t think anybody does. 

To me the dog  was a snuggle buddy at whatever time she wished. She would jump up on the couch and put her right paw on me and lean into me until a soft furry tummy was revealed. She’d push her nose into my hand and when I put my head down she’d strike with kisses. 

But our best friends, leave us at a time not of their choice. They are inflicted with sickness, sometimes, ill health that a vet cannot even diagnose. I woke fifteen minutes too late to say goodbye to her. I petted her anyways, she had this beautiful soft fawn coat. 

And I stroked her back and her little ears as she lay on the counter in the back of the vet. She was to be cremated. The blanket she was covered with was truly the veil of death, taking her away. My Dad and I tried not to cry as we both went out to the car. But tears escaped us as we drove home.

 No dog is exactly the same, but they are each unique. Their time in years is short, but they are never forgotten. I place my hand on the statue and memories flood my mind. This statue is not of her, but to me, in my heart, it’s Nikki. 

  
Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting!