Fiction: Morning Runs and Bad Memories #amwriting #fiction


Another piece from my class with edits.


Credit: Zac Ong via Unsplash


He’s hot. Go join him.” Jacklyn filled Yasmin’s coffee.

“Sam’s weird. He keeps perfect running pace behind me at the park. Even worse, he comes in here for coffee.”

Yasmin pulled her sleeves over her hands. “He makes me skittish.”

“Talk to him.”

“I’m scared to, I think.” Yasmin adjusted her ponytail as Sam ambled to the front counter. He paid for one of Jacklyn’s gourmet Cinnamon buns. He caught Yasmin’s eye and winked.

Jacklyn’s eyebrows raised. “He was ogling you. That’s why he’s been running behind you. Oh, and he’s always had his morning coffee here.”

Yasmin peered at Sam. He smirked, inclining his head. “What’s so good about him?”

Jacklyn winked. “He tells me he loves my buns.”

Yasmin smirked. “Oh, yeah? He rubs ‘me’ the wrong way.”

“You’re thinking about him rubbing you?”

Yasmin rolled her eyes.

Jacklyn sighed. “Sam doesn’t have a creepy bone in his body, and he’s intriguing and well built; you have to admit that. It must be those long runs chasing you.”

“He asked Robbie about you. Sam sees you every day and thought you’d be more comfortable with him by now.” Jacklyn prodded.

Yasmin squeezed her fists tight, her breath rapid.

Jacklyn kneeled. “What’s wrong? Sam’s not trying to hurt you. Why does he make you so anxious?” She clasped Yasmine’s hand. “Robbie said that sometimes women have a good reason for reacting how you do. He’s a retired cop.”

Yasmin froze. Fractions of memories flashed through her mind. “There was someone. I didn’t expect it; he came from behind.”

“Do you mean?” Yasmin nodded, and Jacklyn wiped at a tear. “I’m sorry. Have you talked to anyone?”

“I have, and I’m okay. Robbie’s right. Sam’s brings back bad memories.” Yasmin chewed her bottom lip. The tang of blood made her halt. “I was walking home when the other guy attacked. Sam looks nothing like him. But, he makes me nervous, both in a good and bad way.”

“Maybe, you should chat with Sam? If only to see he’s harmless? Robbie says he wants to get to know you. He knows Sam because they play Rugby league together, and ge’d kill him twice if he hurt you.” Jacklyn squeezed Yasmine’s hands. She moseyed behind the front counter to help a harried barista.

Yasmin stood and stretched, she tossed her ponytail. Sam’s glinting eyes remained glued to hers. She sat across from him.

“Hi, I’m Yasmin.” She quivered and her pulse soared.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

#NovemberNotes Day 28/Saturday Mix: ‘Manon’ #fiction #saturdaymix #amwriting


For November Notes Day 28, the song Prompt is “Into the Night” by Beacon. I’m using the the same song title, but by Santana and Chad Krueger, different musicians.


Credit: Patrick Kool


“Into the Night” by Santana and Chad Krueger


The pub was overheated and dim but Sam’s blood felt alive with promise as he sipped his third Corona at the bar. A slim woman wearing red silk floated onto the dance floor and he was struck still. The dancer was gorgeous. A gift from the Heavens.

Sam’s dark eyes held the beautiful dancers blue-green ones and he instantly knew how she felt about him from the widening of her eyes, the simmering gaze held between them. Even as she positioned herself to dance, the woman glanced at him. Then, closing her eyes she whirled, her footwork effortless, and her dancing lively, a dervish to a fast-paced song.

When Sam wasn’t looking, she grabbed his hand insisting he dance with her, entrancing him as she brushed against him with each complicated step. It was three songs before he realized every soul in the room had been keeping time with them, clapping their hands. Sam wasn’t a talented dancer by any means, but the woman in his arms, made his stumbling appear sensuous.

Her long golden hair flew about them unbound as they spun around in circles, the moon gleaming down from windows near the dance floor. Sam spun the woman one last time, lifting her body against him, before the tenth song ended.

“What’s your name?”

“Manon.”

“I’ve never meant a woman as beautiful as you dancing, Manon.”

“Thank you, but I think that’s an overused pick-up line on me, ” she laughed winking at him. “What’s your name?”

“My friends call me Sam.”

Manon smiled. “I’m glad to be your friend, Sam.”

They continued dancing at a slower pace, finally, noticing the couples and groups of friends on the dance floor beside them.

She snuggled her head into the crook of his neck. “It’s easy to lose track of time, dancing through the night, singing along with you to the music.”

Sam grinned, “I don’t sing much, but I know the words to the songs.”

Manon brushed her hair back from her smooth face perspiring. After a couple of more songs, she stopped dancing for a a few minutes. Sam left, retrieving some vodka-water limes for them both.

Manon took an indulgent sip and grinned. “You say you know the right words to these songs, but do you know the right words to ask me, next?”

She put down her empty drink and looped her arms around Sam’s neck. They swayed slowly, no room between their bodies but her silk dress and his button down.

Sam inhaled Manon’s jasmine perfume. “I know what I’d like to ask you, Manon. What I’d ask any beautiful woman in my arms, but you’re not just any beautiful woman.”

“You’re saying the right words so far.”

He laughed, “What I was thinking was that maybe I could take you for an early breakfast and we could talk. Then, I could drive you home and you could give me your phone number. After, we could go on date number two in a day or so.”

” I’d love that, Sam. I’m a little surprised you didn’t ask to take me home and stay.”

“Would you have said, yes?”

Manon blushed, ” I’ll never tell,” but Sam knew the truth.

“I want to get to know you, Manon, and this kind of knowing takes more than one night; it’s old-fashioned, I guess.”

Manon’s smile was radiant. “Old-fashioned is new for me. Few men have ever wanted to actually know me or have taken the time before we even, you know.”

Sam chuckled and kissed her knuckles. “Old-fashioned is new for me too and it was there loss, just so you know.

Manon slipped her arm through Sam’s and they strolled off the dance floor laughing about what they both craved for breakfast.


©Mandibelle16. (2018) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction: Part Ten – Nineteen-Years Later #flashfiction #serial #amwriting #thriller


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

———

A Mixed Bag

——-

Time stood still as Garig ran his hunter’s knife against Chad’s throat. He waited for the moment it would finally slice through his skin, but the moment never came. 

 Garig was hit multiple times in the back whith bullets and Chad watched as Garig’s albino eyes went wide with shock.

Then there was blood on Garig and on the bedding around Chad. He watched Garig gaze at his hands covered in his own blood and then turn his head to see both Tom and Sam holding large guns, ready to shoot again; there was no need, Garig fell forward on Chad dead. 

“Get him off me, get him off me.” Chad yelled. 

This time the blood soaking into Chad’s bedding and even dripping on his face didn’t disturb him. He’d become indifferent to this monster who had made his life and his family’s life a hell. 

“It’s alright,” both Sam and Tom told Chad. 

They removed Garig from him, as he still lay in bed. Chad didn’t waste anytime getting up, although, due to his recent surgery, he moved carefully.

“Whose house is this?” He asked. 

“It’s Marrion’s Chad. She’s been taking care of you. We’ve had guards posted at her house. I don’t know how Garig snuck past them,” Sam said.

“He’s a deceptive B$&@(?d; Garig was a terrible man. He’s the reason I’ve been stuck in Russia your whole life. I know you thought I was your Dad.” Tom said. 

Chad smiled, “It’s okay Uncle Tom. I never knew you as Dad so calling you Uncle Tom isn’t a stretch.”

“Uncle Tom, Garig told me he’d been in touch with Mom all these years, but that he murdered her.”

Tom’s eyes went dark. “I’m sorry Chad. We’ll both miss her. I’ve known for a while Mona’s been tipping Garig off. I communicated with Mona often. Garig had her tricked; but she always loved you.”

A stray tear leaked down Chad’s cheek.”Is Marrion okay? I’d like to thank her. I think she likes you Sam, er Dad.” 

” She was out when Garig came, thank god. I like her too Chad. I have the time to be with her now if that’s okay with you?” 

” It’s great Sam .  . . I’m not sure I’ll get used to calling you Dad.” Chad said and Sam chuckled.

“What’s next?” Chad asked. 

“Well, this term, you won’t be able to start university but I think in the winter term you can go to school.” Sam said and Tom nodded. 

Marrion came into the bedroom checking Chad’s wound, “Your healing fast,” she said. She got up and snuggled under Sam’s arm to his surprise. 

“It’s finally over than?” Marrion asked.

Chad, Sam, and Tom, grinned at each other.

Fin

——-

Read Part Nine Here. Or start from the beginning at Part One Here. 

——-

©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved

Sunday Photo Fiction: Part Eight – Nineteen-Years Later


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.


 

A Mixed Bag

Sam peered at Tom, the brother he hadn’t seen in almost nineteen-years. “You look the same Tom, you’ve weathered the years better than me.”

Tom snorted. “We’re still nearly a mirror image of each other. We’re also in the same place we were nineteen-years-ago. How could you betray your own brother?”

“You were working for the Russian’s Tom with Garig. I had to shoot you, leave you in prison — it was my duty. But you didn’t die.”

Tom snickered. “You’d like to have me dead wouldn’t you? Things aren’t exactly as they seem Sam. Now where’s Chad?”

Both brothers heard the back exit door slam and the fire alarm go off shrilly. Tom pushed past Sam; he tackled Marrion and Chad.

Tom put a gun to Chad’s head and threw Marrion to Sam. He shoved Chad into a life boat which began descending.

“I’m not your son,” Chad said, his voice weak from blood-loss.” Someone shot my tattoo. I’m not a nuclear bomb anymore. Leave me alone.”

“Chad, I know you’re my nephew. It used to make me so angry that Sam shot me almost fatally and I went to prison.But I escaped and I’m here now to help you.”

“I didn’t realize how undercover Sam was nearly nineteen-years ago. He didn’t understand how deeply undercover I was and am.”

“Garig put that chip in your tattoo making you into a nuclear bomb. Garig’s the enemy, he always was; though he tried to make me appear to be.” Tom said.

“I don’t trust you. . . ” Chad muttered. He’d lost so much blood he was surprised he was awake. Tom put new gauze on Chad’s gunshot wound and wrapped bandages around his body, enclosing the wound securely.

“Here,” Uncle Tom said. He handed Chad a chain necklace of the family crest.”We’re a loyal family Chad. I would never betray my country, or my ancestors.”

“My friends are waiting Chad. My higher-ups will ensure Sam and Marrion get to where we’re going. Together we need to defeat Garig once and for all. I want to come home.”

Chad, as usual, found himself fading into unconsciousness.


Please read Part Seven Here.


 

©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction: Part Seven – Nineteen-Years Later


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.


Lamp Post SPF
A Mixed Bag

“Ah, my back. A bullet hit me,” Chad was almost crying. He was half-awake and half in another wold.

He was dreaming of a lamp post glowing in the night beside a park bench. Soothing Russian words came from a man in front of him. The man was a man he had thought was his dead father, Tom.

Then, Sam shook Chad awake,”I know you’re not trained for this Chad. I’m so proud of you, but you have to stay awake.”

Chad groaned, turned on his stomach. He was shocked to see he had been shot right through his cartoon seal tattoo.

“Marrion, look at my tattoo.” Chad rasped.

Marrion was hiding on the floor beside Chad and Sam. They were behind the science lab counters in the back of the lab.

She gasped, grabbing the device she had used to scan Chad’s tattoo before and scanning his tattoo again. She hurriedly, grabbed gauze from a cupboard under a counter.

“Thank God,” she said. “Chad hold the gauze against your tattoo or you’re going to die.”

She smiled at both Sam and Chad: “The bullet deactivated Chad’s tattoo. For all of the technology put into the tattoo, none of it works now.”

The gunshots came closer and the glass from the front door of the lab shattered. Then there were voices.” I remember that voice speaking Russian,” Chad murmured.

“Tom speaks Russian.”  Sam said, then was shocked to hear the distinct tone of his brother’s voice.

“Tom’s here,” Marrion said shaking, pressing her hand against the gauze on Chad’s wound.

“It will be okay honey, I’ve got Tom.” Sam said soothingly. He got up, holding a large gun ready to fire. He slowly, walked towards the sound of Tom’s voice.

“Well, well,” a voice said in English.”My brother Sam. Here to kill me again? You need to give me Chad now.”

“Get ready to run Chad. It’s going to hurt you,” Marrion whispered.

They both escaped out an emergency door to the lab. The fire alarms went off covering Chad’s screams of pain.

He heard yelling and footsteps behind him, before he again, passed-out.


Read part 6 here.


©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction: Part 6 – Nineteen-Years Later #amwriting #flashfiction #thriller


Thank you to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF. 

Ah! My apologies this is so late! I’ve never written any continuous thrillers, it’s hard! 

——-

A Mixed Bag

——-
“Chad, off the medical table and on the floor!” Uncle Sam yelled as gunfire grew closer.

“I don’t know how he found us Sam.” Marrion said. 

“I need to know the truth about my tattoo,” Chad yelled frustrated. 

“Secrets are dangerous Chad. They can expose you, crush you like a flower.” Marrion said, gazing between Chad and Sam.”Chad might be safer if . . .”

Sam squeezed Marrion’s hand, “Please, tell Chad what you know.”

“Tom isn’t dead. He wasn’t undercover; he is and was the enemy, has been for nineteen-years.”

 “My Dad?”

 “Tom isn’t your Dad; Sam’s your Dad, Chad. Sam and Mona had a drunken night after they thought Tom died.” Marrion admitted.

She peered at Sam, “You should’ve told Chad you were his real Dad. Your name is hidden within Chad’s cartoon seal tattoo. You gave Chad the tattoo as a baby to keep track of him and keep him safe. Chad should  also know, you’ve been running from Tom recently, not Garig; Garig is Tom’s lackey.” 

Sam sighed, hands shaking. “I kept it secret because if Tom thinks Chad’s his son, he won’t kill him.” 

I was the reason Tom disappeared. My twin brother almost ended up in military prison, sentenced to death.”Sam said regretfully. “What choice did I have? Tom was a traitor and wasn’t the only one undercover; I was undercover to bring him down.” 

“There’s more Sam,” Marrion said.”Chad’s tattoo has two more codes. Tom added his own code to track Chad along with a trigger code. I had to be careful when I scanned Chad’s tattoo because of the trigger code.” 

“Why?” Sam said afraid.

“Chad is a walking weapon of mass destruction. If anything reads a special encrypted trigger code on his tattoo — Chad explodes. This boat explodes and the water for miles and miles in the ocean will be full of radiation, which will cycle into oceans around the world. There will be great casualties.” 

Chad was about to speak. He felt sick again. 

Then, a stray bullet bit him; he felt a sharp stinging pain.

 A familiar voice shouted loudly, in Russian, as Chad passed-out.

——

Read Part 5 here

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction: Part 5 – Nineteen-Years Later 


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

——

A Mixed Bag

—–
Chad didn’t have the stomach for being in the military. This was especially apparent to them, as a man Uncle Sam knew rowed them out to a large navy vessel, dropping a grapplinghook when they were close.

Chad and his Uncle Sam boarded the the ship.

“What are we doing here, Uncle?”

“We need to to read your tattoo Chad and find out what information is on there. Why Garig wants it so bad.”

“Do you think he’d really kill me? I’m Mona’s son, wouldn’t that mean anything to Garig?” Chad asked.

Sam sighed.”Garig and Mona went out for a while. For Garig, it didn’t end well because Mona was secretly seeing Tom behind his back . . .”

Sam was interrupted by a pretty woman with red hair and glasses:”Welcome onboard, we’ve been waiting for you,” the woman said in a melodic voice.

Chad was surprised when his Uncle blushed. “Uh, Marrion. It’s good to see you. How are you?”

Marrion smiled, “I’m fine Sam, as well as can be expected after last time . ..” Sam’s eyes went wide.

She turned to Chad. “Chad, let’s go read your tattoo.”

Chad nodded, following Marrion into a lab. He lay on his stomach on a table in an examining room off to the side.

Marrion lifted up Chad’s shirt, seeming to know exactly where his cartoon seal was located.

She chuckled. “I bet you got a few bruises for this tattoo in highschool.”

“Yeah, just a few.”

“Hold still Chad,” Marrion said.

He watched her in a mirror parallel to the table, scanning his tattoo multiple times with an expensive device. Then, he felt a few sharp pokes.

Uncle Sam came into the exam room and Marrion turned to him.

“Sam, this is dangerous information in Chad’s tattoo. You can’t go back after this is revealed. There’s grave peril in this path . . . ”

In the near vicinity, Chad heard gunfire and groaned.

——

Read Part 4 here.

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction: Part 4 – Nineteen-Years Laters


Thank you to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

—–

A Mixed Bag

——-
 Chad, Bastion, and Uncle Sam, had taken a flight to Amsterdam after the house in the mountainside of Switzerland, turned out to be a death trap. After finding one of Bastions ‘safe’ houses, Bastion slipped away to do business.

Sam had ruffled Chad’s hair. “You’ve still got your gun on you? Just in case, keep it close.” 

They began to walk on the opposite side of the street, away from a flower market. When Chad’s Uncle paid for two tickets to the medieval torture museum, Chad begged, “Please not in there. . .” 

 “It’s for secrecy and privacy Chad. I’m going to answer your questions about your Dad.” Sam said chuckling.

They walked into a room showcasing a few racks. Uncle Sam and Chad pretended to look at the torture devises.

“There was fight between your Dad’s squadron and an enemy squadron. Tom was undercover and to most of his fellow marines, it appeared as if one of their own had turned. Tom wasn’t expecting to run into his own squad.” Uncle Sam said softly.

“Your Dad was loyal. Only a few marines who ranked with him, knew he was undercover. Bastion knew and so did a man named Garig; the three were close friends in school.”

“Somehow, Tom was shot; it took the rest of his squadron too long to figure out, he wasn’t the enemy. Your Dad knew who among his squad was actually working for the enemy before the encounter.” 

“So who was it?”  Chad asked.

“Well, Tom talked to me a day or two before he was sent undercover. He was sure he knew who the traitor was then; he had proof.” 

” It’s not Bastion,” Sam said quickly. “Tom suspected Gerig because he had been disappearing for long periods of time. Gerig had also been jealous about your Dad marrying Mona; Gerig was in love with your Mom. He also had other information he couldn’t tell me . . .”

” Tom said he had proof Gerig was the enemy, that he was betraying his friends and squad.” 

“How could Dad know? And why is Gerig chasing us?” Chad mumbled.

“What Gerig was involved in . .. It’s on your body and proves his guilt.” Uncle Sam said.

“My tattoo?” 

“Well, yeah. Who gets their kid a tattoo at six-months-old, Chad?” Uncle Sam whispered.

“It’s a Bambi cartoon of an actual seal; I hated it in gym.” Chad muttered. 

“You have to read it the right way to retrieve the information. Only, the right technology can read it.” 

“Like 3D glasses?” Chad asked.

“No, I’m afraid not . . ” Sam couldn’t finish his sentence; he heard screams and people talking noisily.

Running towards the clammer, Chad and Uncle Sam gazed up horrified, as the body of Bastion hung from the noose of a medieval execution scene.

Chad shivered. “It’s Garig. He knows.” He turned around in a circle, wondering if Garig was here.

The palest eyes, nearly white, stared through the crowd at Chad. 

Uncle Sam dragged him away, “The pale-eyed man, it’s him. Chad wake-up. Do you want to die?” 

Chad narrowed his eyes at Garig but inside, his stomach began to twist.

——

Read Part 3 here. 

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction: Part 3 – Nineteen-Years Later


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.


Mountain homes
A Mixed Bag.

Before they had taken their first flight, Uncle Sam had asked Chad for the calligraphy written letter. They had stopped at a courier and he had the letter sent quickly to a friend.

After weeks travelling, the final leg of their journey ended in the mountains of Switzerland. They traveled by Gondola, before following a path to a sheltered stone doorway in the mountain. Chad had seen windows barely visible on the mountain side.

A man greeted Uncle Sam as they arrived at surprisingly luxurious hide-away.

“Sam, you scared me. I got your letter two-weeks ago.”

“Bastian, this is Chad. We were in New Haven to visit Yale, but the situation escalated quickly. We’re being tracked; the Navy is after us.”

“It has to do with Tom, doesn’t it?”

” It’s why I wrote you Bastian. You were in the Marine’s with Tom. You were there that awful night.” Sam said.

“There was a critical reason Tom had to tell me about it; he had to protect Chad and Mona. She was sent into hiding as you promised, Bastian?”

Chad had to say something: “Mona, My Mom, Mona?”

Bastian scrutinized Chad.”Your Mom is fine Chad. I’ve friends keeping her safe. You know, you look a lot like your Dad.”

“What exactly did my Dad do?” Chad demanded turning to his Uncle.”Back at the hotel in New Haven you promised to tell me everything.I deserve to know what happened.”

Uncle Sam opened his mouth, then the windows exploded. Men in black clothing and masks came in on ropes into the house.

Bastian tossed Chad a gun. “You know how to use this right?”

Chad nodded, running for cover behind the kitchen island. Bullets dinged off metal and splintered wood. He had to shoot one man who came around the island.

When Chad saw the body drop, blood dripping from a bullet hole in the man’s masked forehead, his stomach knotted.

He watched, rapt, as Uncle Sam and Bastian killed eleven other men.


Please See Here for Part 2.


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction: Part 2 – Nineteen-Years-Later #amwriting #flashfiction


Thank you to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF. 

——-

A Mixed Bag

———

“What are you writing Uncle?” Chad asked Sam.”And why’re you using a calligraphy pen? Carry that in your back pocket?”

“Chad, you shouldn’t be joking.You’re going to give this letter to a trusted bicycle courier. My friend I’m writing can help us; he knows my writing. Pretend the courier outside the hotel side entrance is a buddy.” Sam instructed.

Chad grabbed the letter. “I have a lot of questions Uncle Sam, about my Dad and about why we’re in trouble.” 

Sam nodded. “Go meet the courier, then we’ll talk. I’ll sweep the room for bugs while you’re gone again. I don’t think they’re any, otherwise . . .” 

Chad gulped, quickly leaving the hotel room. He walked to the side entrance of the hotel expecting a guy his age on a bike. 

Instead, he found a trashed bicycle. There was no courier, only drops of blood.

Chad ran as fast he could back to his hotel room terrified. He thought he had taken the right turn, but when he turned around he saw he was at room 395 and not 305. 

“Are you lost hon?” A smiling hotel maid asked him.

“I’m fine.” 

“No you’re not. You are definitely not fine Chad.” A deep voice said.

Chad peered behind him to see his Uncle Sam standing there. Sam shot the maid through the head and collected a gun the maid had hidden in her uniform.

“You can’t trust anyone.” Uncle Sam told Chad harshly.

Chad followed his Uncle out of the hotel, clutching the calligraphy written letter in his hand. 

——-

Please see Part 1 here.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.