Fiction, Flash Fiction, History, My Thoughts, NaPoWriMo, Nature, Poetry, Quotes, Sunday Photo Fiction, Wrapped Refrain, Writing, Writing Challenges

Day 7 – NaPoWriMo/A to Z Challenge/ Sunday Photo Fiction: Poem – Wrapped Refrain (2) – “Live Eagerly” #amwriting #poetry #NaPoWriMo #AtoZChallenge #flashfiction


Today’s NaPoWriMo challenge prompt is to write a poem about luck & fortuitousness. The A to Z Challenge GoodReads quote is from an author whose name begins with the letter F. 

——–

Credit: A Mixed Bag

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I think we consider too much the luck of the early bird and not enough the bad luck of the early worm. —Franklin D. Roosevelt

———

You can see them swooping from the trees up high, they hope they’ll —

Find a tiny morsel, a scrap of food to eat, to sway —

Nature in their favour to —

Live another busy day through. 

Birds hoping to find worms to eat, 

Survival filled with such screeching

Wings drifting on the wind, their tweets now satisfied they ate —

Today was a lucky day, a game of chance they’re sated

——-

Fortune favours the brave so they say, but is it the brave —

Who triumph or their prey, having such a terrible bad day? 

However, we try, birds diving, 

Can’t save the fish from dying

The birds eat, fish already gone. 

Bad luck today, forever they’re gone. 

In the cliffs in the distance, I watch birds swiftly fly, 

Plunging, gliding higher, for soon they’ll be prey in sky.

—–

For fortune knows, on certain days we win and on others —

We lose, so the birds they’re a meal ticket too, so discovered, 

By bigger birds with talons sharp, 

By the ocean’s creature’s smart. 

Waiting for the birds to dive low, 

Then gulping them down, never slow. 

Call it the circle of life but it’s a necessary

You can see them, so survive while you can, live eagerly

——–

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

My Thoughts

Poem: Free Verse – “Young and Beautiful” #music #poetry #amwriting 


Credit: Chemo Madoz – http://www.pinterest.com

——

“Young and Beautiful” – Lana Del Rey 

——-

Such a wish have humans, 

For the fountain of youth. 

Retaining our vivacity, 
Twenty-something good-looks. 

To maintain an image of fresh faces, 

Yet carry the wisdom age gains. 

I think if we knew anything, 

We’d know it’s a curse to be young forever. 

For all such wisdom acquired in life, 

There’s a price to be paid. 

Experience taught and it —

Marked us with age spots, 

With wrinkles and scars, 

With under eye circles, 

Nightmares and inner trauma. 

Journeying through life we learned

 Our lesson, or perhaps we haven’t yet? 

When we are young, 

We are carefree and full of vigor. 

Not thoughtful in how we think or react,

No maturity, no flash of pain;

The liberty of youth suits the young. 

But to be a man or woman-child with —

The eyes of our great-grandparents,

Bearing several lifetimes of burdens;

I think, for a mere human, 

Would be too much grief to bear. 

For the older we become, 

We learn from birth we’re dying. 

Life is a quest and it’s meant to end

We’re meant for the heavens, 

Free of our lifetime of issues

Emotional, psychological, and physical decay, 

The exhaustion of life. 

The old realize when their time is coming —

That it is right. 

A lifetime of sorrows, to have so many years,

Would break a soul completely;

Nevermind a physical body. 

That’s why the young are beautiful,

Life hasn’t wounded them. 

They are too ignorant to see — 

Life isn’t meant on earth to be eternity —

The light shining to restore body, soul, and mind, 

In heaven shines for all,  

In timelessness we will be young,

All of us appearing how we ought;

No imperfections, 

Perfect creations.

Handling both knowledge and beauty,

Eloquent and graceful;

Gods children thankful

And only those who die young,

When life is torn by accident

By atrocity and ill health, 

(And the aged)

Understand this concept. 

As their grandparents did or do, 

Only the ill and dying, have vantage of this, 

Life is so frail;

A wisp of a veil torn, 

We’re all too busy living to see. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Blitz poem - 48 Lines, Fiction, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, OctPoWriMo, Poetry, Writing

#OctPoWriMo – Day 5 – Blitz Poem – “Sharp Is the Knife” #poetry #amwriting


Day 5 Prompt: Sharp

“When I first think of something sharp, pain comes to mind but then I think of an A sharp or a B sharp. Of course there are sharp turns, sharp angles and “He’s looking sharp.” and let’s not forget, sharp as a tack and look sharp.” 

——–

http://www.emptyseats.wordpress.com

——-

Not the sharpest knife in the drawer.
Not the brightest crayon in the box. 

Boxes need opening with sharp knives.

Boxes, trapped in our boxes, locked.

Lock it up tight. 

Lock it or else 

Else in the morning you’re to blame

Else, you’ll lose your job, what then

Then you don’t know

Then you can’t tell

Tell nothing because

Tell nothing they say

Say you’re not bright

Say you’re a bit dim

Dim as shadow

Dim as a dark room

Rooms, you’ve not one your own

Rooms are nothing, you’re vagrant 

Vagrant wandering needs people 

Vagrant wandering seeking close

Close enough, no one will steal

Close enough, no one will think

Think you’re more than homeless

Think you’re more than a mistake

Mistaken once, but you’re capable

Mistaken once, but you’re smart

Smart, can you appear that way

Smart, most people aren’t

Aren’t life smart

Aren’t more than book smart

Smart, who cares when you’ve no food

Smart, who cares when you’re so cold

Cold eyes of people staring

Cold hearts of people cracking

Cracking your bubble 

Cracking your safety zone

Zone of space around you

Zone of personal space

Space is all around you

Space, there is too much of it

It, means a place you can stay 

It is a place called home

Home, needs a job to pay for 

Home, lost because you weren’t sharp

Sharp is the knife that cuts in life.

Sharp is the knife that cuts in life.

——-

The Blitz Poem
“The Blitz Poem, a poetry form created by Robert Keim.
This form of poetry is a stream of short phrases and images with repetition and rapid flow. 
Begin with one short phrase, it can be a cliché. Begin the next line with another phrase that begins with the same first word as line 1. The first 48 lines should be short, but at least two words.

The third and fourth lines are phrases that begin with the last word of the 2nd phrase, the 5th and 6th lines begin with the last word of the 4th line, and so on, continuing, with each subsequent pair beginning with the last word of the line above them, which establishes a pattern of repetition. 

Continue for 48 total lines with this pattern, And then the last two lines repeat the last word of line 48, then the last word of line 47.
The title must be only three words, with some sort of preposition or conjunction joining the first word from the third line to the first word from the 47th line, in that order.
There should be no punctuation. When reading a BLITZ, it is read very quickly, pausing only to breathe.” 
Please see Shadow Poetry for further information. 

——

Apologies, the whole bolded text above should be indented but my WordPress App is misbehaving. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Deserved. 

Fiction, My Thoughts, Tale Weavers Fiction/Poetry, Writing

Tale Weaver Fairytales: Shanna Transforming #taleweaver #fairytales #fiction #amwriting


Thanks to MindsLiveMisery’sMenageria for hosting Tale Weaver Fairytales prompt. This week we are retelling: The Ugly Duckling. 

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——–

“Fatty fat. You’re so fat you break the ice,” the popular boys and pretty girls taunted her. Shanna ignored them, or at least tried. 

Every year at school the snow would melt  in spring and the melting snow would pool, causing small lakes of water.As the temperature dropped over night, the pools of water would freeze on top. 

The children played a mean game. The kids who were not chubby, could walk on the ice without breaking it.But the chubby kids such as Shanna, would carefully, walk on the ice, only to have the ice top break like glass; the popular boys and girls teased her endlessly. 

In the spring, the children played  another game, called spin-the-bottle, on the grassy and now dry field. 

None of the boys wanted to kiss Shanna. They only kissed the pretty girls; the thin ones. The boys insisted they only give Shanna a kiss on the cheek, which was all she was allowed to give them. No boy wanted to kiss a fat girl or have her kiss them on the lips. 

——-

Years later, Shanna was all grown up and finishing her History degree. Her friends and her went to their favourite pub, The Blue Whale, whenever they were able. 

One day, two of her guy friends brought a a guy named Wren with them. Shanna had admired Wren from some of her History classes. He was hot; built but appeared studious with sexy glasses he wore at times. 

Wren and Shanna easily fell into conversation. He was fun, smart, and in touch with what was going on in the world. 

When Shanna’s girl friends dared her to kiss Wren, sparks sizzled and Shanna and Wren couldn’t stop kissing. Her friends tactfully wandered off when the kissing went on longer than they wanted to see. 

At university, Wren and Shanna kept running into each other. They talked and Wren often asked where Shanna and her friends were going to dance, so he could go there with his friends at the same time. 

A smile was always on Shanna’s lips as she began to date Wren; he made her day brighter and made her happy. She felt cared for with Wren.

The boys on the university hockey team stared at Shanna as she passed their table in the cafeteria. Many of them thought she was pretty. Her large eyes were stunning and her body curvacious but athletic; she was often in the gym when they were. 

Shanna didn’t talk at the gym and she maintained a serious expression, concentrating on her weight-lifting. 

Presently, Shanna’s  lips were full-on smiling. The hockey guys who liked her, had never seen her look smile like this before. Her eyes sparkled. Shanna was all the more attractive because she was genuinly happy. 

The girls who followed the hockey team around were sick with jealousy, wondering what certain hockey players saw in Shanna. 

But when Shanna’s stunning gaze turned the hockey team’s way, she looked past them to Wren. 

He smiled at Shann softly, her placed saved at a seat beside him. Wren bought her yogurt and and cut-up fruit for lunch. He knew Shanna’s eating habits well.

Shanna thought back to the days the boys and skinny pretty girls called her fat and how the boys would only let her kiss their cheek. 

Times had changed. Shanna knew of several guys who would like more than a kiss from her now; yet she cared only for Wren. 

Shanna had wisely, claimed the best guy for herself; the one who liked her especially, when she ate as much ice cream as she wanted to eat. 

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, My Thoughts, Poetry, Relationship, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Word High July, Wrapped Refrain, Writing

Poem: Wrapped Refrain – “Hers” #wordhighjuly #poetry #amwriting #makisig



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http://www.katemcelweephotography.com

——–

He steps out of the shower wearing, 

Towel around waist, torso bared.

Appreciation in her gaze, 

Still lovers in morning’s rays.

He’s shaving at the mirror now, 8:00 am shadow;

Hand caresses his face dear; whiskers bare skin loved so.

—–

She adoringly watches; he does his —

Hair; style enough to say he actually gives; 

Because, he matters to her; he’s attractive, 

Features cared for; laughs, she’s pensive.

He’s putting on a show for her; pulling up his dark jeans, 

Strip show reversed; he stares into her eyes, her dream.

——-

A button up shirt, match his eyes blue, 

No suit today; just hers to amuse.

A watch on his wrist; one she bought, 

Ring on his finger; him she sought.

There’s a song which was sung, about a ‘sharp dressed man.’

He thinks of it smirking; she grins impressed; his fan.

——-

He’s comfortable; she blinks and stares, 

His heart thumps; she likes what he wears.

She likes his bare skin; his heart beat, 

She likes his brain; he’s smart, sweet.

He maybe flawed, she loves him still; everyday he

Steps out of the house; holding her hand and he’s hers.

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Daily Prompt, Free Verse, My Thoughts, Poetry, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Poem: Free Verse –  “Fraility Flailing” #amwriting #poetry 


Thanks to The Daily Post for the word prompt Frail.

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http://www.nited-academics.org

——-

We walk the golden path; we’re frail, 

Is there any other way to wander?

No one stronger or wiser left to fight?

But we’ve aged within minutes, 

We forgot to gaze behind us, 

To see what the past left for us;

Wisdom and knowledge with a bloody trail. 

Instead, we’re continuing on a broken path, 

We’re frail, aging humans by the seconds;

Counting our tomorrows,

Before we have them granted.

Not listening to our elders;

Who lost life, limb, peace, to war and grief.

We don’t look skyward to the heavens, 

We watch our own feet tremble.

Stuttering we stumble down the trail.

Dragging our canes and walkers;

We’re riddled with bullet holes.

Wounds we never felt, 

We never gave up our guns;

Never thought what “security,” meant,

For our children and grandchildren.

We’re all exceedingly frail, 

As if we were ancient beings;

We carry their genes but their wisdom, 

We breathe out like carbon.

The hurricane winds blow through our ears, 

Blocking out what we don’t want to hear. 

Truth is a dangerous weapon, 

The truth can change direction.

The truth can smart and hurt, 

Our lungs can barely breathe.

It degrades and humiliates, 

It stings our eyes and it turns, 

Focused vision, to grey static.

The truth it always is revealed, 

Until all we can see is real.

But real has no pertinent meaning, 

When what you’re used to, 

Lies promoted and shouted.

Lies built upon lies, 

More colourful than, 

The Grande Canyon’s layered rock.

We hide behind our lies, 

It makes us distrusting.

Flailing, we cannot believe in anyone;

Not even ourselves to do what’s right.

We cannot elect using logic; 

No true king on this earthly realm, 

To lead us to glory and home.

We don’t even have faith in, 

Our own minds and bodies.

We’re so frail, as paper cranes crushed, 

As tissue paper torn without thought.

We cannot lift our fingers to point, 

To teach unlearning children lessons, 

Before they end up like us.

We’re frail; yet we don’t know the meaning, 

But as assuredly as the world turns, 

Our ashes and dust, 

Will blow away in the wind.

The sands of time keep swirling, 

And we’re growing ever closer, 

To our own cremation;

We think we have forever, 

But our steps are forgotten memories, 

Or thoughts not even the silt of dirt.

Frailty so visible, we lumber around slowly, 

In our slumber losing memories.

We forget to see where yesterday led, 

Blindly we falter and walk where we may;

Into tears, and traps, we’re used, betrayed —

Abused and hopeless.

But we reap what we sew;

Our harvest was distrust and darkness, 

A black-hole eating consuming all good.

We’re frail, until we fall where we walk, 

Because life is faulty and frail too;

And our short time, 

Has been for not;

If we cannot learn from our past, 

See how history repeats no matter the leader.

But we are human, 

So we do not learn, 

Thinking we’re invincible; 

Until the day we’re not.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Fiction, Free Verse, My Thoughts, Poetry, Relationship, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Word High July, Writing

Poem: Free Verse – “Making Grandma’s Day” #wordhighjuly #poetry #amwriting #marahuyo



———

Grandma When She Was Young (www.pinterest.com) Actually Betty White!

——–

You straightened your blue tie;

The ocean-blue of your sweet eyes.

Long lashes, dark styled hair; must be —

Embarrassing for such a strong —

man going on 6’5, to have such eyelashes.

Not that height, 

Makes a huge difference;

But I’m liking what I see.

You smiled, lips full, 

Kissable, and my mind goes south . . .

Then, I’m blinded by another,

Of your sweet smiles.

Gorgeous, open; you appear so alive,

Happy and handsome.

Steamy and hot;

I think it’s love at first-sight.

In a summer suit; a baby-blue shirt.

Blue is your colour, in every shade.

You walk, I get the view from behind;

It all looks good to me.

Big-feet;

I hear that’s great too.

Again, my mind wanders, 

Should I walk the same way you’re walking?

Maybe, you’ll notice plain old me?

Utterly, enchanted by your sight.

On this dreary day, 

Everything’s gone wrong; the cancers back.

But your magnatism, your laugh;

It made my day.

I feel as if I’m some voyeaur, 

To appreciate such beauty,

And care of appearance.

Qualities such as long-fingered hands,

No doubt talented; I miss those . . .

I trip while admiring you, 

So marahuyo;

I can’t see straight.

You turn around alarmed,

Having noticed and heard, 

Me fall on my face embarrassed.

I’m an eighty-six-year-old woman, 

Falls aren’t a good thing and I’ve pride;

To walk yet on my own.

But you’re kind and pleasant;

Though I tremble in your presence,

You bring me ice from a restaurant for my hip.

I say: “If I was younger . . .”

You blush and I do the Grandma thing;

Patting your arm, 

Possibly, inhaling how great you smell, 

And showing you,

A recent picture of my favourite,

Gorgeous granddaughter.

Dark auburn hair and grey-blue eyes, 

Beautiful, healthy, and fit, 

Witty and bright; an Art History Professor.

Your eyes go large and I know you’re, 

Thinking of a way to charm her number from me.

I chuckle say: “I’m where she gets her looks.”

You grin and chuckle.

Your laugh makes me so pleased.

And I accidentally, 

Let my granddaughters number, 

Pop-up on my giant iPhone.

I snap a picture of you Mr.Gorgeous,

You blush so cutely, she’ll love you.

Send your photo to my precious girl,

I just have this feeling. . .

Get you to text: He’ll Call. His Name is Cale. Love Nanny.

I take pictures on my IPhone and call;

Texting is too hard.

After more conversation,

I’m sure of you, wishing I was twenty-eight.

You have to leave, making sure I’m fine.

I’m sad; but my dear girl will bring you over,

Hoping I did her a favour.

My best and only granddaughter;

Smiling pleasantly, at the thought of you, 

A handsome businessman.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

May Day Prompts, My Thoughts, Poetry, Shadorma - 3/5/3/3/7/5 syllables, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Maydays: Poem – Shadorma – “Could Be You Some Day” #Maydays #amwriting



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Thank you to the wonderful K.L. Caley of new2writing for hosting #Maydays prompts. This prompt I mentioned in today’s #Maydays prompt. It concerns all things geek.

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http://www.theenquirer.co.uk

———-

Geek sheek is, 

There such a term we, 

Simply don’t —

Care to know, 

Because we don’t want to be a geek.

Memories; childhood.

——-

Bullies, 

Abused the, 

Geeks who in, 

Our schools, were —

Nerds shoved into lockers and, 

Forgotten about ’till —

——- 

Mr. X let, 

Nerdy guy out; he —

Never helps, 

Much, Mr. X —

Won’t stop bully from hurting, 

Kids; he pretends it’s play.

——

Movies don’t, 

Aid kids who become, 

Targets at —

School because, 

For some reason geeks stand out, 

Fate aids her bullies.

——-

Why are some, 

Children left —

Alone? While some, 

Lose their lunch —

Money, to mean kid who made,  

Them bleed, inside out.

——

And parents, 

Who don’t see their child, 

Bullying —

Beware your, 

Child’s cruelty leads kids to die;

Commit suicide.

——–

What makes a —

Geek? I’ve never been one, 

So it’s hard,

For me to, 

Generalize; perhaps, you can’t?

Bully choose prey anyways.

——

Call them geek, 

Not sheek; teenagers, 

And children, 

Abused by, 

Jealous, mean people; it’s fine —

To bully, they think. 

——-

Now they pick, 

On geeks online on,

Their Facebook,  

Snapchat and, 

Chat rooms; abounding with hate. 

But change in adulthood.

——-

World turns,

When that geek you hit.

Is your boss, 

Separating,

You from promotions deserved.

Shouldn’t have punched him.

——

Now the geeks, 

Are truly sheek and, 

Are making, 

Millions and —

Millions more than your pay cheque.

But the difference here–

——

Maybe they —

After some payback,

Have pity, 

On you and —

Your friend, who work under them.

They know what it’s like.

——–

So kids when, 

You’re attending school, 

Think ahead, 

You’re not young, 

Forever; the geek you hurt —

One day, could hurt you.

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

May Day Prompts, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Pinterest, Poetry, Quotes, Tanka - 5,7,5,7,7 syllables, Writing

Maydays: Poem – Tankas – “The Best Kind of Mad.” #Maydays #amwriting 



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Thank you to K.L. Caley from new2writing for hosting #Maydays prompts. Today’s prompt is good madness. 

——-

http://www.pinterest.com

——

I love that you have that —

Good madness, a bit of quirk.

Laughing and smiling, 

I’d rather have you a bit crazed, 

I worry when you’re lost, sad.

——

When you’re mad I know you’re —

Alive; your heart beating genius. 

Found in Wonderland, 

Where my favourite Alice went, 

Your my Mad Hatter; my match.

——

Not everyone would get —

Your peculiar mind which bends, forms.

Brilliant, but held, 

By societies normal.

I love your real craziness.

——

Genuinely you, 

I never worry you’re fake.

You always reveal, 

A hint of absurdity, 

You finish my sentences.

—–

Your crazy begins,

It meets with my own and we’re —

Blessed to be us; home.

In our otherly world lost, 

We are the best kind of mad.

——-

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Fiction, My Thoughts, Novel - First Draft -"How Was Last Night For You.", Relationship, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

20. How Was Last Night For You: John’s Confrontation with Talise


Please read Chapter 19 here.

Chapter 20: John’s Confrontation with Talise.

John carefully crept along the beach to Talise’s cave, concealed by more stone edifices, until he reached the shrouded entrance. Thoughts of the past week’s nightmares were fresh in John’s mind. He shouldn’t have thought about his dreams. The fact that John’s nightmares could be a glimpse of reality, weighed heavy on his mind. However, John knew he was of no benefit to Nina or himself, trapped in the tendrils of his recent dreams.

John slowly crept into the cave. He couldn’t see anything and had no choice but to turn on his flashlight. He pushed buttons blindly with his thumb until a portion of the cave was revealed in a circle of light. John was relieved when there appeared to be no one in the cave. Talise wasn’t here tonight.

John circled the cave, tensely gripping the flashlight. He was searching for any unusual items Talise might have hidden in the cave. Perhaps a magic orb such as the one Nina’s soul was enclosed in, in John’s nightmare. But there was no sphere or dagger concealed in the cave. Not that John could see much in relative blackness, with only the small circular light of his flashlight.

Instantly, John felt his spine tingle in fear. He spotted a smoldering fire, recently extinguished by the caves entrance and he froze. A small arm encircled his body and cold lips kissed his neck. Heinous laughter filled John’s ears and the cave was cast in brilliant light, much stronger than the flashlight provided.

John turned around into blinding light to find Talise standing behind him. She had dark purple stains beneath her eyes and she seemed to have aged. There were strands of white throughout her blond mane; however, she still held a compelling and terrible beauty.

Talise looked up at John and smiled wickedly. John perceived that the old Tia, the girl he once knew, had disappeared. The seawitch that stood before him was someone else entirely. A dark and desperate creature.

“So you remembered where my cave was, did you John?” Talise asked. Her voice was harsh and gravelly; she snickered at John.”Why would you come here John?” Talise asked. “This is my place. My haven from the world. Why invade my personal space, unless you are looking for something…” Talise laughed again, a cruel sound.

” I was looking for you Talise,” John said raising his voice to be heard in the cave. “We need to settle this. You need to uncurse me. I’ve suffered as you wished for nearly ten-years Talise, isn’t that enough for you?” John pleaded with Talise. She simply smiled, an infuriating smile.

“No John, ten-years of suffering is only the beginning for you…” Talise said spitefully.

“I never meant to hurt you Tia,” John reasoned.”I was twenty-five-years-old and I’m not akin to a mermaid or a sea witch. I didn’t have years of experience behind me. I should have told my brothers, my family, how I actually felt about you. I loved you Tia. You were my first love.” John admitted.

“First love, eh?” Talise cackled, “but not your only love. You were never committed enough in our relationship John. You were too busy building Mergers. You never truly loved me; otherwise, we would’ve been married. Anything to do with ‘us,’ was never your main focus. You are worse then Ethan was…” Tia muttered, half to herself.

” Who’s Ethan?” John asked.

“In the Victorian Age, Ethan was my husband. We couldn’t have any children because I’m unable to have children. When Ethan died, my two nephews (who were as sons to us) told me Ethan had been having an affair with another woman, for many years of our marriage.” Talise said, tears brimming in her bloodshot eyes.

“They said….my nephews said, Ethan didn’t love his mistress. He only wanted a lineage, children who had his blood. He had eight children with his mistress bitch…I loved him more than I loved anyone. . .” Sorrow laced Talise’s voice.

“I couldn’t do anything to Ethan because he was dead, even his mistress was dead. I have a great deal of vengeance to wreak John. You will pay for your own sins, you will pay for Nina’s stupidity, and you will pay for Ethan’s affair because he isn’t alive to pay.” Talise shouted.

John was appalled by Talise’s hatred.” Nina or I, have no control or fault over what Ethan chose to do over one-hundred-years-ago. We weren’t alive then. Stay away from Nina, Talise. Touch her and you’ll regret it.” John grated and Talise cackled.

“I wanted you to be with me John. I was going to appear to you and tell you ten-years anguish under my curse was enough. You were supposed to take me back and love me again. I imagined we could have a life together. We could’ve adopted children, as Ethan and I adopted his nephews. But, Nina . . . she worked her way into your heart. You love her, I can see it in your eyes when you tell me to stay away from her.” Talise raged, perplexed.

” Because you love Nina, I’m going to stab her with this . . .” Talise said picking up a thin particularly, sharp dagger.” I received this dagger from a friend who was retiring,” Talise murmured smiling murderously.” Well, actually I killed her. She was an old seawitch, at the end of a terrible dark reign. It was my turn to embrace my darkness, to be the most feared seawitch in the Sirene. I traded my soul for this John, and you’ll never find my soul. It was taken from me by the dark powers that be.” Talise said a crazed laugh escaping her throat.

John looked at the dagger Talise held in her hand. It was tarnished silver with red jewels on the hilt, it looked dangerous. Talise grasped the dagger in her small hands, hands that had appeared to have aged too. There were tiny wrinkles and visible blue veins, on the skin of Talise’s hands. In the harsh light, John could see wrinkles around Talise’s eyes and mouth. Part of her youth was a price Talise had paid to become a demonic seawitch, John thought.

“Please,” John begged Talise.” I will do whatever you want Tia. Just leave Nina out of our feud. I should’ve kept away from her, I understand that now. But Talise, you and I can still be together. We can have a lifetime together such as you and Ethan had. I will always be faithful to you. I won’t hurt you like I did before, or like Ethan did.” John said softly, cajolingly. He watched as a tiny smile appear on Talise’s lips, bringing back an echo of her youthful glow. But then Talise opened her mouth and laughed, a crazed unstable sound.

“Nice try John,” Talise uttered darkly. “But it’s too late for our ‘happily ever after.’ I told you Nina’s heart or yours .  .  and you didn’t decide which heart you wanted to give-up. But I know you love Nina, so I know you cannot give me your heart freely. And it’s too late for me because I’ve made my choice. I’ve turned…dark and now I’m going to thrust this dagger through Nina’s heart, and I’m going to take her soul.” Talise said chillingly. She sounded disgustingly cheerful about her decision. “Don’t worry John I’ll be back for your heart. I have special plans for you…”

John’s mind raced back to the nightmares he had been thinking about before entering Talise’s secret cave. He had been right, to his horror, the nightmares were a forebodence to what could happen to Nina and John. John’s nightmare was coming true. He should’ve known before coming here, he knew his dreams could be premonitions of terrible events.

John watched Talise closely, waiting for a moment when he could attack her and steal the dagger. He pictured ramming the dagger through Talise’s demonic heart. At the same time, he felt a twinge of guilt. It made John sad to think about the girl, Tia. But now John had to think about the woman he loved forever. He chose Nina over Talise, he always would.

“I know your plans Tia because I have dreamt about them. You want to bewitch me so I have no free will. You want to force me to watch as you murder Nina.” John said, watching Talise and waiting for the right moment. Talise looked surprised at John’s admission.

“I’ve never given you any nightmares John, except for the one where I asked you to choose Nina’s heart or your own. Your dreams are a sign of your own guilt, your imagination running wild. You’re at fault for the position you and Nina are in. Now it’s too late.” Talise yelled turning to face the crystal mirror on the cave wall as it came to life like a television screen. To his amazement, John could see Nina, home at her condo. She was waving goodbye to Rianne. His body tensed, Nina wasn’t safe alone.

“Here John,” Talise said. ” You can watch me bewitch Nina in the looking glass.Watch me take Nina out to the Sirene and thrust my dagger through her heart. No one will find her body. I’ll bring you back her soul when I come to take your heart, to take your free will. Just as in your dream . . . I’m coming for Nina and there is nothing you can do to stop me John.”

Talise closed her clouded green eyes and began to chant a spell, holding the dagger between her hands, as if she were praying to the devil. John seized the moment to jump Talise and wrestle the dagger from her hands. Talise screamed as John fought her. As in his dreams, Talise was abnormally physically strong.

John’s hands grasped the hilt of the dagger after several minutes struggling. He finally, threw Talise to the ground. She had stopped chanting and was fighting John’s hold on the dagger in earnest on her knees. Talise grasped the edge of dagger’s hilt. But John’s grip was stronger, he was too determined to keep the dagger.

Talise’s eyes filled with loathing and fear as John thrust the dagger at her chest.Talise rolled away and  John stabbed Talise in the arm and stumbled. He watched dirty red blood flow from her wound. A filmy red mess stained the floor of the cave, visible in the bright light Talise had first cast.

“Arggg….” Talise shouted. She chanted words under her breath quickly. The wound healed slightly, but still bled. “I’m going to kill Nina,” Talise remarked coldly, her voice weaker. “I can still drown her, even if I can’t stab her heart or take her soul.” She cackled with glee.

Talise fled the cave and John tried to follow her, but an invisible magical force stopped him. Tia looked back at John and she smiled, an evil gleam in her dull green eyes. “This will hold you, John. The spell will last long enough for me to drown Nina.” Talise said darkly.

“Remember to watch the looking glass John, watch me kill the woman you love.” Then Talise was gone and John heard nothing but strange echoes in the cave until he heard the engine of the motor boat purring.

John swore and pushed against the magical shield, multiple times, and he couldn’t break through the magic. He had the dagger, but Talise would be at Nina’s condo soon. John had no phone signal in the cave and he wanted to kick himself for his own stupidity.

He shouldn’t have come here alone. John should have brought Jordan with him when he borrowed Jordan’s motor boat. John yelled helplessly, letting off some of his frustration. He turned around to punch the cave wall, and the looking glass crackled and shattered beneath his fist which had struck it dead centre.

John watched in awe as the crystal mirror splintered into hundreds of pieces. He saw the magic field at the cave entrance shimmering purple. To John’s surprise, he was able to dive out of the cave into the sand. His hand hurt awfully and was bleeding, cut in several places from the broken looking glass crystals.John didn’t have time to access and care for his wound. He needed to swim quickly if he had any hope of reaching Nina and hindering Talise’s threat.

In the back of his mind, John thought he might be able to finally break the curse and save Nina. He would sacrifice his life for Nina’s. It didn’t matter much to John if he survived, unless he could spend his life with her. His ray of hope, his favourite lazy Sunday afternoon with popcorn and Netflix.

What mattered most to John was Nina’s survival. There was a painful uneasy feeling in John’s stomach. It made him think he might already be too late. He concentrated on his hand which stung terribly as he swam in the Sirene, hoping to reach the shore fast.

Please Read Chapter 21 here.


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.