Maydays: Flash Fiction – Her Name Isn’t Susan. #Maydays



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Thank you to CL Kaley of new2blogging for the #Maydays prompt a coffee break fantasy.

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http://www.fallseven.ca

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“Ahhhh, coffee. I love it. Would you like some?” Peter asked the woman. He didn’t remember her name.

“I don’t drink coffee, thanks Peter,” Sally said her throat feeling raw.”I could use some water, or orange juice if you have any?” 

Peter peered into his fridge. It was bare. “Um, Susan, I have cranberry juice is that alright?” 

“I guess. And my name is Sally, Peter.” 

“Oh. Uh. Sorry Sally, I drank a lot last night.” Peter said.

Sally shrugged. “Whatever Peter.” 

 “Actually, you’ve been calling me Susan since your third beer last night. I kept correcting you every time but you kept calling me her name. Who’s Susan?” Sally questioned.

Peter appeared nervous. “She’s no one. Just an old girlfriend.” 

“Ah,” Sally remarked, “I understand now. Got any whole wheat or multigrain bread for toast?”

 Peter wasn’t listening. He drank his coffee remembering the morning Susan left.

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“Where are you going?” Peter asked Susan.

“I’m leaving Peter. I’ve had enough. I can’t take this anymore.” Susan said. She had all her possessions boxed up and had hired a mover to load up the furniture she purchased.

“You have to have seen this coming.” 

“No, we had one fight and now your leaving me?” Peter asked.

“It wasn’t one fight, it was many fights over three-years. You never understood. It always came down to the same thing.” Susan remarked.

“What, what did it come down to?” 

“You Peter. It came down to you. You always did whatever you wanted, demanding I tag along. When it came to doing what I had to do for a work event or visiting my my friends, you never showed up.”

“Time and time again, you told me to quit my job. That I shouldn’t be spending so much time working or visiting my own friends.” Susan said, “I’m not putting up with your controlling behaviour anymore.”

“But. ..”

“No, Peter. I have a life. My own life. I’m tired of explaining things to you.” Susan said frustrated.

Peter was speechless as the movers came, taking the furniture Susan bought, and all of her things away. 

When Susan and the movers left, Peter felt the gnawing emptiness of his condo.

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” Peter is there bread for toast?” Sally asked. 

“What?” Peter asked lost in his head.”Oh no, sorry haven’t been grocery shopping this week. There’s cereal?” 

Sally sighed. “It’s fine. I’ll drink my cranberry juice and be on my way.” 

“Leaving so soon? Want to. . . ” 

“No, Peter I’m fine. I don’t think I can handle being called Susan again.” Sally remarked.

When Sally left, Peter remembered the emptiness he felt without Susan. Sally reminded him, he was a failure with women. Peter returned to bed to sleep off his hangover.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

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Moral Mondays: A Broken Ballerina


Thanks to Nortina from Lovely Curses who hosts Moral Mondays. The moral prompt this week is: Love Conquers All.

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Ballarina
(www.pinterest.com)
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” Oh Sally, it’s shattered! I told you to never touch the ballerina.” Violet held back tears as she reprimanded her daughter. She couldn’t believe Sally, who was thirteen, would break the porcelain ballerini.

Sally knew she shouldn’t have touched the ballerina. ” I only wanted to feel it because Great-Great-Grandma probably held it. You told me stories about her, but you never let me hold the ballerina.” Sally explained.

Violet understood, when you touched an object from a cherished dead relative, it connected you to them. “It’s alright. I love you always and forever, more than any  heirloom,” Violet told Sally hugging her.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction: One Thing at a Time


When you see a tire lying emeshed in ice and snow by a frothing icey river, you don’t think much about what you’re seeing. What would a random tire say if it could talk?  Would it tell you the story of the SVU it was apart of? There were two young children in the vehicle.

How fast was their mother driving on the slick roads? Sally wasn’t paying attention and was texting and talking on her phone while driving. She was too busy having a conversation with her friend about a playdate.  Sally was too busy texting her husband to pick-up milk on the way home. Tom and Isla were playing; they were giggling and laughing in the back seat and were hushed by Sally.

Then the SUV started to hydroplane and Sally tried to break, but the vehicle was spinning and slipping down the side of the road and she couldn’t hault the SUV against the slush and snow. She couldn’t stop it from driving into the river.

Sally remembers the screaming of her children. She doesn’t know how she got out of the SUV, only that she had been crying out for Tommy and Isla from the moment she was dragged from the river. Sally keeps asking for her children. She wants to go back to the river to look for them.

Finally she sees them, white faced with  blue lips, eyes closed, and peacefully frozen; they are sculptures. She waits for their tiny chests to rise, to breathe. Even adults who are experienced swimmers can’t survive in raging winter rivers. But Sally waits, tears frozen to her face.


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting!

Go Eskimos Go! Bring the Greycup to Edmonton!

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.