100 Word Wednesday: The Beginning of Us #flashfiction #100WordWednesday #amwriting 


Thanks to Bikurgurl for hosting #100WordWednesday. 

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Credit: Zachary Staines

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Hungry! Need food. Opening the fridge door I notice the shelves are empty. I sigh agitated, but leave my apartment, renting one of the bicycles nearby. I’ve half of a grocery list on my phone at least.

Walking inside the store I wrench on a cart out and begin shopping for fruit.  I mutter to myself checking off the items on my grocery list and adding others. 

“Ouch,” I hear, “Nice aim.” 

I gaze up from my phone. Crinkled azure eyes, mussed brown hair, and a killer smile greet me. I blush when I notice he’s checking me out, rubbing his injured shin. 

He holds out his hand while standing up. “I’m Ryan. Nice to meet you.” 

I shake his hand. “Sherise. Sorry, about your leg.” 

“Oh, I’ll live,” he grins. “Do you want some company? I’ve just got to pay for the milk. Wait here.”

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want.” 

A grin with crinkled eyes. “I want to.” 

Five minutes later Ryan is back, pushing the cart. He makes jokes as I fill it with my grocery items. He insists on driving me home, placing my rented bike in the back of his SUV. 

I smile now thinking back. That day had been the beginning of us. 
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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.  

Flash Fiction for The Purposeful Practitioner: The Open Road


Thanks to Roger Shipp for hosting FFftPP.


road
Credit: Roger Shipp

The open road can take you anywhere. There are many places to go, its so difficult to decide precisely which road you will take. On one hand, you have opportunity and potential before you. You’re bursting with aspirations and a chance to discover a new or familiar place and make it your own. You’ve a desire to create lasting and meaningful memories.

But on the other hand, there’s the downside of open roads. Roads aren’t always safe. You believe the road ahead is empty, but you never see a speeding car whipping out, when you both crash. You aren’t paying attention when you see a moose in the middle of the road, directly in your path. You may have the SUV but he’s huge and more likely to kill you.

Journeys aren’t what we think they’ll be. Some of them lead to misery and pain.Some of them lead to mistakes and learning the hard way. But it’s the price of travelling the open road. As you’ve little idea if you’re playing the correct card in a Black Jack, you have little idea where that open road will lead, or end.


©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Flash Fiction for The Purposeful Practitioner: Wrong Horror Movie. #amwriting


Thanks to Roger Shipp for hosting FFfTPP.

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http://www.pixebay.com

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“I’m so tired we’ve been driving for hours,” Luc muttered to Felicia.

“Well there’s a motel up ahead. No nevermind. We’re not staying here honey.” 

Luc yawned. “I can’t drive anymore tonight. It’s 12:30 a.m.”

“This motel has dusty rooms crawling with roaches and resembles the Bate’s Motel.”

“It’ll be fine you’ll see.” Luc said. He parked the car infront of Reception and came back with a key card. He showed Felicia the key card.

“I’ll sleep in the damn car. If you’re still alive in the morning I’ll come in and shower.”

“If you’re sure,” Luc said. “Want to see it first?” Felicia remained mute.

Luc opened room 62 which was surprisingly clean and modern. The beds and linens were new and the bathroom had been renovated. 

He thought about getting Felicia but Luc was also fond of stretching out in a bed to himself.

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It was 8:00 am when Luc received a knock on his room door. “Sir are you Luc Rareson?” A grisly state trooper asked.

“Yes,” Luc said tentivily. 

“Is this your car?” The trooper pointed to a black SUV, half covered up.

“Yes, my girlfriend was sleeping in there. She refused to sleep in the room.”Luc said ashen.

“What’s your girlfriend’s name Mr. Rareson?” 

“Felicia Mayer, where is she? What happened to her?” 

“I’m sorry to tell you this sir but Felicia Mayer was murdered in your car last night.” The trooper said gently.

Tears leaked out Luc’s eyes.”I should’ve made her stay inside the room. I should’ve insisted.” 

 “We have the individual who murdered Felicia in custody. He won’t tell us his real name. He was wearing an old goalie mask from hockey and says his name is Jason Voorhees.” 

“Are you kidding me?” Luc sobbed.

“No,” the state trooper said.”Ironically enough, today is Friday May 13.” 

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Moral Monday’s Flash Fiction: One Confession too Many


Thanks to Nortina for hosting Moral Monday’s prompts. This week’s prompt is: “Listen before you speak.”

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http://www.colourbox.com

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 Merrik’s husband was guilt-ridden over a car accident involving their son. Mike became distant and bitter because Tristan was left severly mentally handicapped after the accident. Merrik wanted to tell Mike both she and Tristan forgave him, but Mike cut her off before she could speak that night:

“I’m having an affair with Ana at my office, she doesn’t care what a horrible guy I am.” Mike confessed. “I was driving the SUV last year after Tristan’s soccer practice when the accident occurred. He went through the windshield because I didnt ensure his seat belt was buckled; I handicapped Tristan for life.” Mike admitted feeling cathartic after his confession.

“You’ve been sleeping with Ana?” Merrik shrieked.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Sunday Photo Fiction: The Boss Who Froze


After a half-hour dozing in bed, Cara realized she had slept-in. She jumped into her shower then decided to style her hair into a messy bun. She slathered on face products, blended her foundation, and applied mascara. Cara was relieved a pinstripe dress and black cardigan greeted her when she opened her closet. She threw on a wool coat, warm scarf, and applied her lipstick. Cara zipped up her tall black boots and put on leather gloves.

The wind stung Cara’s face as she walked against it to her SUV, which had been warming up as she prepared for work. The storm was awful and Cara arrived at the office thankful she made it to work without incident. Only two cars were in the parking lot. She ran to the office main door and noticed a sign saying the office would be closed today. Cara wished someone had emailed her before she left home.

As Cara ran back to her car, she tripped over something solid. She glimpsed behind her only to see the frozen body of one of the founding Lawyers of the firm, Mr. Duncan. Cara screamed, arising lightening fast and getting into her SUV. She fumbled with her phone, dialing the police as tears blurred her vision.

 

Snowy Car
A Mixed Bag 2010 A Snowy Winter Day

Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF. You can join too!

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

 

Sunday Photo Fiction: One Thing at a Time


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

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

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

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

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


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting!

Go Eskimos Go! Bring the Greycup to Edmonton!

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.