#OctPoWriMo Day 17/Photo Challenge: Poem – “Lay Down Your Guns” #amwritingpoetry #PhotoChallenge


For OctPoWriMo Day 17 the Prompt is Madness Reigns. I’m combining with NEKNEERAJ from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie Photo Challenge. Inspired by Joyrose’s piece It’s Not Rocket Science!


Credit: Art Universe @ Instagram

World builder, psycho destroyer

With your purple-pits for eyes,

You black-eyed raven with pitiless guise.

Hiding your intentions,

You cannot snatch them back — nevermore.

You are wicked madness in destruction,

Shedding humanity, no magic world-builder, but you could’ve been.

You could’ve been eloquence or passion,

Most of all you could’ve been sweet-grass alive.

There are a lot of should haves,

Could haves that might have been.

But it comes down to what is, what was —

A descent into wretched madness, no logic nor reason.

Reason so convoluted it reigns hellfire,

Bullets from a gun, shots ricochet, echo in the synagogue.

Flesh squelching, screams, oaths muttered, defiling God’s alter;

You reaped havoc, chaos unleashed.

You were meant to be loved, to persevere;

No to blame others — to forgive.

For we each share responsibility for what we’ve all done;

And we don’t always know the consequences,

How far reaching are actions ripple as stones tossed.

But there are times we’re cognizant,

And some of us, still, desire that the world burn.

Erupt into millions of Hanukkah flames,

The sacred hanukkiyah candles spilled — desolation.

Now we mourn your disaster intended,

Now we mourn children,

Now we mourn families.

You are chaos, pandemonium released.

You did not find absolution,

Only a cause you shouldn’t have killed for.

We all carry our burdens, rocks in our bellies.

We haul them around, as third-world children starving,

Infested with parasites, with death.

Now, the grieving are yoked in disbelief,

And you’re lost endless in the bleak.

No more guns and glory, no more madness;

Help those who need help find it —

Help them not into chaos descend.

Aid those on the edge,

Before off the canyon’s ledge they dive,

Boulders splintering life, bodies of tree husks;

Cut short with a whispered litany.

A Rabbi’s murmured blessings — some people’s last zenith;

Having only ‘just,’ enough time, before their candle flickers.

Rises with smoke, ashes, and incense;

This malice and hatred’s a repetitive cycle — ‘so,’ we beg:

Lay down your guns.

Lay down your guns.

Lay down your guns.


©️Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

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Fiction: What A Million Dollars Won’t Buy #amwriting #fiction


Here’s another piece from my course, edited of course.


Credit: Paul Paul @ProdigyPaul via Unsplash.


Eugene steps onto the plane as his stomach summersaults. In Eugene’s seat, fellow author Jerry Norman, reclines.

“I need the legroom, let an old man have the aisle.”

Eugen shakes his head ‘no.’ He stows his carry on and sits. “Thanks a million for not making this difficult, Jerry. The aisle seats are quicker to leave from when the plane lands.” Eugene winks.

Jerry’s eyes narrow. “I’d watch it if I were you. I don’t like you sassing me.”

Eugene grins, then his stomach flips. The plane’s wheels come off the runway, and he buries his face in his hands. He swears under his breath between prayers until the plane achieves flying altitude.

Jerry laughs, “Think you’re some tough guy, eh? You take an old man’s seat than can’t handle take off?”

Eugene rolls his eyes. He notes Jerry’s red face with sweat gleaming. His hands are fisted tight around the armrests. “I don’t think you’re such a flier yourself. You’re a bit of bullshitter, aren’t you, Jerry?”

“That’s neither here nor there, Eugene. I’ve ridden on a plane that’s nearly crashed. Stop being such an asshole. I’m not a bad guy.”

Eugene snorts. He removes his iPad from the seat pocket and closes his eyes to the latest Avengers movie. When he awakes, screams of terror resonate. His stomach lurches as the plane nose dives, rattling, bumping up, and down as the left engine sputters.

Eugene believes he’s having a nightmare. He blinks, and everything around him occurs in slow-motion. The breathing masks tumble down, and Eugene gulps in oxygen at a slow even pace.

Beside him, Jerry has knocked his head on the window and passed-out. Despite Eugene’s dislike for him, he stretches as far as he can. He displaces his oxygen mask for a moment, and attaches Jerry’s. Then, he does the only thing he can think of doing, he smacks Jerry across the cheek to wake him.

“Jerry, come on. Your head’s bleeding, and you can’t sleep until you see a doctor.” He watches Jerry’s pupils dilate as he sucks in deep breaths of oxygen. Eugene’s numbness permits him to remain calm as the plane alters from a nose dive to a straight position above a grassy field. The landing is rough and jars everyone. At the end, Jerry catch’s his eye. Both mean realize the plane nearly crashed.

Eugene’s numbness fades as his nails dig blood-filled crescents into his palms. When they leave the plane and slide into a verdant feel, he turns to Jerry. “Stay awake, we need to find you an ambulance before you fall down right here.” The other author leans against Eugene, as he supports him. They find a paramedic who checks them both over for injuries.

Eugene thinks of the million dollars he could’ve had for arriving early to the writer’s conference both and he Jerry were attending.

“All that money wasn’t worth this.” Jerry fumbles over his words, but Eugene knows they are the absolute truth. He nods at Jerry lying in a stretcher in an ambulance waiting to leave for the hospital.

“I’ll come with you, Jerry, might as well. Someone has to call your family and let them know what happened.” Jerry makes a noise, Eugene assumes is agreement.

He closes his eyes for a moment. One million dollars.


©Mandibelle16.(2018) All Rights Reserved.

First Line Friday: Fiction – Robbed of Peanut Butter #amwriting #FirstLineFridays


Thanks to Dylan of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting last Friday’s First Line Friday. You can look for my Friday Music Prompt tomorrow!


 

Peaunt Butter
Credit: Rosanna Davison Nutrition

His world had been comprised of hastily constructed philosophies, which upon close examination, had failed him and promptly collapsed. 

“Peanut butter,” he gasped moaning at the delicious taste of the product his mother had refused to feed him as a child. 

“How can you have not tasted Peanut butter, Charlie? You’re thirty-nine years old and have been living on your own for twenty years. Didn’t it ever occur to you buy it, just once, to see what it tasted like?”

Charlie looked at Dana his mouth a gap,”This is mind blowing. All my life I thought Peanut butter would kill me. My mother convinced me my throat would swell, that I would die on the floor gasping for air if I ate it. But I’m fine. I’ve been eating it all day and it hasn’t made me sick  or made me have trouble breathing. My mother was a liar!”

“She was just trying to protect you, Charlie. You did say she saw a kid die from being exposed to peanut butter when she was in school. It’s why they don’t allow it public schools. Your mom should have let you try a bit of Peanut butter first to see if your body reacted,” Dana remarked.

Charlie shook is head and sighed with pleasure. “I’m going to be eating Peanut butter for the rest of my days, for all those years I was robbed of it’s taste and smooth texture.”

Dana laughed,”Careful Charlie, there is a lot of calories in peanut butter. You don’t want to ruin your physique.”

“Who cares. I swear I’ll go to the gym if that happens.”


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Photo Challenge: Poem – Free Verse – “The Healing Touch” #amwriting #poetry 


Thanks to NEKNEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s photo prompt challenge.

——–

Credit: Laura Williams

———

Many faces have I, but don’t let me evaporate.

Too many masks I wear within to cover the scars that bind,

The twisting vines of ruined skin,

Not even plastic surgery could heal.

And the whispers of the dreadful night,

They haunt me in my sleep.

Each nightmare worse than the last, entrenching me in madness.

Crying and shaking, in a world I cannot escape.

My screams echoeing from the domed ceiling,

In St. Peter’s Basilica, my heart a kindled pyre.

Does God hear me, my fervent prayers without pride?

I know if He did, he would answer what I seek,

Provide relief from the cruelty of my suffering;

Of the ache and the burn in my skin.

He’d be a cooling gentle wind to end the burning flames,

I hope in my meekness for God as Elijah knew.

I try to forget. to move on, hiding behind masks so I’m safe.

My scars are not physical but they hide beneath skin,

Where plastic surgery cannot salvage a broken soul.

I’m a wretched bloody mess and my stomach is churning,

Why are the worst injuries, the ones you cannot see?

Why do people only see skin deep?

Not many will peer beneath the perfect layers of white ivory,

To see the layers underneath charred and scorched.

Many will not look past the words on your lips,

They are not interested in how a person says certain words,

Or why they say what do.

Many people hear only what they want to hear,

And if you choose to scream,

Than you’re the crazy one seeking attention.

But many screams are silent,

Before they are ever heard out loud,

This is why we need listeners and those with empathy,

To overcome those overflowing with ignorance and apathy to life;

To realize there is meaning in helping your neighbor out.

For we all have hidden scars and screams,

And most of them are dug deeply within our souls.

They wind around a person’s heart, a choking vine envokes —

A cry for help, so please hear it, long before we shout out loud,

Be still for a moment and listen well.

Respond before the masks hide many other faces and mine;

Act before you start cutting into our hearts,

Doing much more harm than good.

Watch your words and carefully avoid —

Assault and battery, for refusing to help those in need —

Refusing to help those lost in their pain. 

Heal with laughter and conversation,

A piece of your precious time.

Do not forget the meek and lowly,

We all need help discovering pathways into stardust.

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Collage Prompt: Poem – Rictameter – “Books and Cherries” #amwriting #poetry #collage


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this week’s Collage Prompt.


Collage MLMM
Credit: Shawn Van Deale the woman on the left: Johnny Palacois the woman/aloe vera plant on the right.

Humming,

As the bird who’s —

Thrumming in the air,

Struggling for each flutter so

Rapid; so utterly fast it’s blurring.

My wings in flight are haze to you,

You don’t see underneath;

Desperation,

Humming.

——

Darkness,

Arising in —

My stomach, spiraling,

To the surface out of my —

Broken soul that I mend in those worlds found,

In each and every story, novels —

Ending hiding; I’m no —

Crab in my shell’s —

Darkness.

——-

In dreams,

I writhe, I twist,

Tales of old and new —

Follow me when enters Sandman,

To calm adventures stripping me of sleep.

But just as I live in my books,

I live in nightmarish —

Tales at midnight,

In dreams.

——-

Awake,

Oh, sheltered one.

Let the black smoke rise, cleanse

Your body from your shattered self,

Set free your mind, let your spirit live,

Life’s the greatest adventure,

Stories read fill gaps;

Burst forth spirit,

Awake.

———

Cherries,

You’re sexy  as,

Women who curl cherry —

Stems into knots with skillful tongues.

Unafraid to bare your body,

When it’s appreciated.

With love, you expose your —

Soul; All for ripe

Cherries.

—-

As books,

Sweet red cherries,

From the Okanagan,

A valley of delicacies.

Driving through B.C. in summer, you —

Stop at every fruit stand,

Selling juicy fruit — truths;

Cherries savored,

As books.

—–

Smokescreen,

Floats up swirls as —

Papal smoke; the blackness,

Forgiven reading thousands

Of tales, every genre, every language.

Devouring ‘reads’ as cherries,

Demons gone; living with —

Wisdom taught, no —

Smokescreen.

——

Light’s glow,

In each tale read.

Nourishes souls; keeps me —

Aching to learn, wanting to know,

Of worlds, fantastic characters —

With hubris, compelling charm.

While some characters are —

Searching hard for,

Light’s glow.

—–

Writing,

It filled holes,

Torn in souls, in hearts wrecked,

The reader became author,

Discovering within her fingers lies a —

Haven, a solace of peace, rest;

Because the story grows —

In her, exposing —

Writing.


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved

Sunday Photo Fiction: A Round Belly #flashfiction #amwriting #fiction


Thank you to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF. 

——

A Mixed Bag

——

“What’s that?” five-year-old Julia asked. 

“It’s a Buddha, dear,” Aunt Kim replied. 

“What’s a Buddha?” 

“For some people, Buddha is their god.” 

“Oh,” Julia asked perturbed. “But I thought he had a belly, a big one.” 

“Certain statues of Buddha have a belly,” Aunt Kim remarked. 

“But why?” Julia asked, “What does Buddha want?” 

“I think he wants enlightenment dear. I’m not sure why he’s portrayed as having a round belly only sometimes.” 

” He must eat a lot. My friend says he does yoga? I think a downward dog would be too hard for him. His stomach would get in the way,” Julia said thoughtfully, 

“I’m sure he manages, Julia.” Aunt Kim said chuckling. 

“What’s enlightenment?” 

Kim sighed, “Understanding and awareness. A lot to do with meditation, sitting still, thinking, and breathing in and out.” 

“Oh, but who put Buddha in your house?” 

“I’m not sure dear. Everyday I wake up and Buddha is on the shelves near the back door outside. I think the neighbour lady keeps putting him there for me. And each day I keep returning him,” Aunt Kim said agitated. 

” Tell the neighbour lady, we’ll keep Buddha if he has a round belly,” Julia replied with a giggle and grin. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Music Prompt: Teegan’s Potion – Part 3: Teegan’s Potion and His Passion (Rated R) #fiction #paranormal #romance #amwriting


Thanks to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for Friday’s music prompt, “I Don’t Want To Talk About It” by Rod Stewart. The song is loosely used in part three. Warning Part Three contains Adult Content. 

——-

“I Don’t Want To Talk About It” – Rod Stewart

——-

http://www.pinterest.com

———-

Tallia drove back to Fairy Dust as fast as her Vespa would take her without losing the giant fish off the Vespa’s back compartment. She was feeling afraid because she knew Teegan would be nearly awake, but felt certain he would be in enough of a fog she would have time to make the potion he required. She prayed the tonic took his darkness away, the shadow that stalked him. But at the same time Tallia knew, the shadow was Teegan.

The presence of darkness lurked as Tallia quietly opened the back door, slipping inside her shop. She set the goldfish in his bag, down on a countertop and stood for a moment blinking tiredly. It was the middle of the afternoon and a wave of fatigue overwhelmed her. She had been up late thinking about Teegan, what he could have possibly done hundreds of years ago to be cursed so wickedly. She was thinking about him in other ways too, Tallia realized blushing.

She wasn’t sure what she’d do if Teegan knew she’d drugged him, what he’d say or do. She didn’t know how much in control Teegan was of his darkness right now. The wisest thing Tallia could do was make him his potion whenever he needed it, whatever kind of potion it was. She thought about the wisdom Teegan hopefully acquired in his centuries alive. Would it make him extra understanding?

Then again, she could be wrong. Some people never learned their lessons despite experience. Yet Tallia was sure, in Teegan’s startling green eyes had been knowledge of dark deeds and lessons learned with difficulty. The blackness in his gaze almost had the affect of repelling Tallia at first.

At the same time, his emerald eyes were seductive and drew her too Teegan. No matter his real age, he appeared to be in his thirties. He was ridiculously good looking in the truest sense. She could smell his particular pleasing scent from where she leaned against the counter in the back of her store. Where she put together potions and caste spells for magical items customer’s required.

Perhaps, it was her heightened sense of smell which brought to life Teegan’s addictive scent, or maybe her memories were more vivid due to her attraction to him.

Tallia jumped when a voice whispered in her ear.

——-

“Where’d you go? How come my potion’s not made? I need it now Tallia,” he whispered.
“Teegan?”

“Yep, I’m awake, thanks for the nap by the way. Did you find out what you needed too? I see you got the giant gold fish. You’re worried about me and the shadow around me which makes you sick. You went and talked to Jude. He’s been around over a century. Old for most humans, but not as old as me, Tallia.”

“I didn’t talk to Jude, he’s in the hospital because he had a stroke and isn’t doing well,” Tallia sad with sadness.” I talked to his great-grandson Aspen. He run’s the store now I guess. He said you were cursed, that you did something terrible. That’s why you’ve so much darkness. How do you make it go away Teegan? What happens if you don’t take this potion?”

Tallia felt warm and comfortable and realized Teegan had moved to hold her from behind, his arms crossed against her stomach. Teegan’s head suddenly lay against hers and she could feel him sigh as if he could finally relax. Tallia had never been so near to Teegan, she felt dizzy in good way. It felt wonderful to be held so gently, though she wondered if Teegan realized he had moved to comfort her.

——

Moments later, Tallia felt Teegan’s lips firmly on the side of her neck, traveling up under her ear and sucking gently on her earlobe. His lips moved back down her neck to the v-neck of her sweater. He kissed her over her heart and Tallia shivered when his lips traced her neck, went over her chin, and landed on her lips. Her heart was racing, she felt hot and cold all over.

Teegan bit her lip gently, seeking access to her mouth. His tongue met hears with need. Tallia couldn’t think, could only feel. Her connection with Teegan was something new to her. This sense of knowing him and recognizing him, beyond the physical sense. In her mind, she could feel him encouraging her to relax.

“I’ll take care of you,” he whispered.

Teegan kissed Tallia until she was breathless, his hands massaging her stomach, sides, and hips. His hand moved up to squeezing her breast over her sweater and short coat. She moaned when he broke off his the kiss leaving Tallia wanting. He breathed in the crook of her neck, his hand not moving, but not leaving either. It seemed as if hours had passed but it had only been minutes.

Teegan collected himself and moved a distance from Tallia as he spoke: “Tallia, I can’t. I want to, but I shouldn’t have done that; it confused you. I need you to make my potion now please. You’re the only one who can do it. It has to be one of your bloodline. And if you don’t I’ll turn evil. I’ll be a curse myself, a terrible man. I’ve done such evil because I’m cursed, or was before your gifted ancestor came up with this potion. It’s the only way to keep me from turning, Tallia. You and I, we’re tied together because of your ancestor. You remind me of her,” Teegan remarked.

“You need to tell me the entire story. This isn’t fair Teegan. Of course, I’ll make the potion. But my Aunt never told me any of this. The cancer took her a way in so little time. I need more answers from you,” Tallia pleaded.

I don’t want to talk about it Tallia. Make the potion. You’re breaking my heart here,” Teegan said rolling his eyes.

“What if I don’t?”

“I’ll be evil, as I’ve said and as I’m sure Aspen told you. I’ll hurt you, probably kill you, and I don’t want to do that. If I kill you, I’ll be evil forever — until someone kills me. You’re the last in your line. Make the potion, Tallia, we could be happy.”

“We?”

“Tallia, make it now! You know I’m not trying to deceive you. You can feel it.”

“Yes, you’re right. I do feel you’re being genuine. I’ll make it as fast I can.”

——

Tallia gathered all the ingredients she had laid out earlier and brought them to an extremely large mixing bowl. She measured all the ingredients into the bowl quickly and accurately, barely thinking. She followed the directions in Aunt Willow’s tome and chanted the right words when she needed to say them. Pouring out the water of the giant gold fish’s bag in a sink, she slid the giant flopping gold fish into her bowl. With wide eyes she watched the potion simmer and turn scarlet.

Aspen had been right, the goldfish was a sacrifice of life. Although a mouse or anything small would’ve done the job, but her ancestor’s writing said the giant goldfish was preferred. Tallia strained the chunks of ingredients from the mixture; the goldfish had disintegrated.

Tallia pulled a beer stein out of her cupboard to Teegan’s surprise. She poured half of the scarlet liquid into the earthen beer stein. Teegan had been watching Tallia create the potion the entire time. He hadn’t said anything, only watched her, familiar with her actions. He’d probably watched her Aunt Willow and her Great-Aunt do the same. And many of Tallia’s ancestors, if she could believe his story.

She turned around from the giant bowl and found Teegan beside her, leaning against the counter studying her. His hand moved, pushing her light purple-grey hair behind her ear. He was so much taller than her, Tallia thought.

Teegan smiled when she offered him the beer stein.”Where’s yours?”he asked her.

“Where’s my what?”

Your half of the potion? You have to drink it with me,” Teegan told her.

Tallia was about to protest but he was gazing at her in a particular way. She noticed the pain usually hidden in his eyes present. She felt it through her being and it softened her heart; her protests crumbled.

” I wish I wasn’t so intuitive, Teegan. You do really need me to drink your tonic with you? Do you promise I’ll be okay?”

“I promise. Your Aunt, she was always fine. You’ll find it invigorating actually,” he said.

Tallia nodded reading what Teegan had told her in the tome beside her on the counter. How did she miss that direction? Peering up she noticed him pouring her a beer stein of the remaining liquid. She took the potion from him, grimacing because she knew the ingredients in it. She tasted a bit of the potion, testing the flavour. It tasted like cinnamon and a woodsy red wine. How could that be? 

“Bottoms up?” Teegan said holding up his stein.

Talia clinked her stein with his, “Slainte,” she said.

—–

Teegan’s potion was easy going down. Tallia could feel a lightness, as if her cares were floating free. She felt energy, Teegan was right. His potion did feel invigorating. Her mind felt intensely perceptive as well. Swallowing the remenants of the liquid she saw Teegan had already finished his.

“Better, huh?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’s amazing stuff,” she said peering everywhere, everything around her was completely crystal clear. Her early fatigue was gone. Tallia noticed Teegan’s dark circles had faded. He appeared younger, his few wrinkles smoothed out. He was gazing at her again in certain way, and she knew from the flicker in his green-eyes what he wanted. Tallia felt almost drunk, except the potion made everything feel real.

She laughed aloud and Teegan frowned,”What?”

“No you’re not getting that from me,” she said.

“It wasn’t difficult to get a kiss and more from you before. You like me. I can tell, I like you too,” Teegan said, eyes darkening and meeting her own.

“No,” Tallia said laughing again. “You have to earn it. Take me out. Tell me about yourself and my ancestors. Did you sleep with one of my great- great – female relatives?”

“Don’t you feel like you’re burning up inside? I don’t know what I’ll do if I can’t . . .” he said approaching Tallia, following her as if she were prey. “I slept with the first of your ancestors I knew, she was my .  . .  my woman, for a while. But she died and we never had a child.”

Tallia backed away from Teegan smiling, wary but turned on at the same time. He was irresistible and Tallia found herself trapped against a wall. She laughed more as Teegan stripped off his shirt and unbuckled his belt. Her mouth ran dry seeing his finely sculpted body. He grinned and grabbed both her hands, holding her hands above her head. Tallia whimpered and Teegan chuckled.

“I’m not, I’m not a one night type of girl and you’re . . . you smell so good. But you’ve lived so much longer than me, what could you possibly see in me,” she murmured.

“You’re not one night Tallia.  I was thinking many many and I see you’re beautiful and gifted; you’re also intelligent.You didn’t immediately trust me.”

“Okay . . .” Tallia began but Teegan’s lips roughly met hers and she gasped as his tongue invaded sliding against hers. His hands were everywhere beneath her shirt and bralette. Then her shirt and bralette were gone and his mouth was there and she couldn’t contain her cries. “Oh no . . .”

He removed his mouth breathing hard, “Stop?”

“Oh please no!” Tallia said.

He chuckled and continued loving her with his mouth. “Teegan . . .” she whispered, feeling her body melt into his.

He pulled off the rest of her clothes, kissing her slightly round stomach and turning her around to kiss Tallia all over back and to her surprise, over her hips and bottom. His fingers found her center and rubbed below, circling her sweet spot, his thumb pressing against her.

“Please please. . .”

Teegan kissed her bottom again and turned her around so his head was level with Tallia’s belly button. He kissed her stomach before thrusting two fingers into her core, she shook and nearly screamed. It hurt but it was okay because the pleasure of his fingers going in and out of her was intense. She wailed when his fingers took her over the edge.

He kissed her, his lips and tongue centered on her core. The sensations Tallia felt were indescribable. Teegan was teasing her, he knew she need to come again but wasn’t letting her; he was making her wait for him. Teegan removed the rest of his clothes and gently lifted Tallia’s body onto the counter. He pushed both his fingers inside her again, adding a third.

“I’ve never . . .” she whispered suddenly shy.

“At your age? I’m flattered, no one values that these days,” Teegan whispered.

Tallia flushed, “Well it’s complicated. It’s gone but, I never had sex.”

“What do you mean?” Teegan asked stopping. His voice sounded grim.

Don’t stop, don’t,” Tallia begged.

“Okay, but I will kill whoever did it to you,” he promised.

Tallia believed Teegan, he appeared dead serious even though they were having sex.”It’s fine,” she mumbled. “It was a university party. I was too drunk and fell asleep and he was there sometime. When I woke up he was gone and I hurt,” Tallia admitted anxious for Teegan to continue loving her.

“Are you okay, are . . .”

“Please don’t, don’t stop. Please I need you.”

Teegan nodded, understanding. “You’ve got me,” he replied.He guided himself to her entrance and gently pushed inside.

“Okay?”

“Good, more.” Tallia said gripping his sides until Teegan was completely inside her. It stung and hurt but it was also the best feeling she could imagine when he began to move. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he whispered dirty things in her ear, all the things he wanted to do to her.

She felt his rhythm increase and her own body released again, more powerfully this time. She felt the final pushes of him in her body as he came. Teegan breathed heavily, holding Tallia and kissing her forehead.

Then, Tallia was crying, amazed tears were falling down her face. But Teegan gently hushed her and kissed her tears. It was hard for her to believe Teegan could ever be an evil monster. Tallia needed to know more about his past, when he was ready to tell her; she hoped it was soon.

——-

©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 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.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Poem: A L’Arora – “Lover’s Afternoon” #amwriting #poetry #relationships


A L’Arora, a form created by Laura Lamarca, consists of 8-lined stanzas. The rhyme scheme for this form is a, b, c, d, e, f, g, f with no syllable count per line. The minimum length for the poem is 4 stanzas with no maximum length stipulation. The A L’Arora is named after Laura Lamarca as “La” is her signature. “Aurora” is Italian and means “dawn” – “Arora” is derived from this. This form is dedicated to Chad Edwards.

Please see Shadow Poetry for more information.

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http://www.pinterest.com

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Two of us, we one world in us create.

Timelessness, a feeling we want not to escape.

Not minding how seconds bleed, seemlessly into hours;

Our exploration, decadent; our time spent, 

Meandering paths on skin, journeys in memory well preserved.

The lazy summer days completed, wrapped in your arms hold.

Connection of body, mimics engagement to heart.

I’m safe; limbs meshing with yours, arms hold.

——-

Your each finger wandering my skin, I anticipate, 

In kind, returning the favour; your body I sate.

We two beings, unity forming; while it pours, rain showers.

Rain the melody; bliss an aspiring presence.

Leaving fire in my path, past your hip bones swerve,

Wetness of your mouth past my stomach, bold.

Can’t protect my heart but wisdom of touch you impart,

No hiding; you perceive my naked soul, so I’m bold.

——-

Enthralling euphoria of twilight; I burn, don’t wait.

Kissing shoulder blades; your cheekbones carved of slate, 

Breasts, hands take your fill; lips rapturous devour.

Stroking limbs, both are hands spark, pleasure sensual.

Evocative areas found, your body with desire I observe;

Tongue tracing small of my back; gratified, I won’t withhold.

Laughter, exchange; the language of touch, adoringly imparted.

Revelling in silken skin, with you as no other; nothing I withhold.

——

Our minutes keep stretching; nipping skin, heat burns, captivated.

Bodies combined, as moths to the flame; cannot hunger sate.

Sure hands, wandering mouth; inbetween, all around, retains prowess, 

Your body never leaving me; your kisses across fragile skin ascend, 

 Scared to be known, body, spirit, heart; you’ve me without reserve.

Tender eyes see through me, arms defined, clasp me tight, enfold; 

Ages later, we’re dressed, faces on; a soul wrenching kiss; you depart, 

My lover safekeep; our lives in each other, now enfold.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.