Flash Fiction, History, My Thoughts, Nature, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Sunday Photo Fiction, Writing, Writing Challenges

Sunday Photo Fiction: For Joy #amwriting #flashfiction


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

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Credit: Sally- An Hodgekiss

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All was as it had been that day, a harsh purple-blackness filled the sky and the towers of the palace appeared to cage him in. Their ruthlessly straight architecture left no room for imagination and no room for failure such as the sins that had made King Salivoir a statue.

A thousand years ago, Jupiter had been furious with King Salivoir. His handsome features scorned the human king who had dared to bed his beloved Venus. Jupiter was so furious with Salivoir his mighty hands crushed the stone of the palace fountain. Salivoir had ended up in the water begging for his life. 

Then, Jupiter had said something shocking, “King Salivoir, I forgive you your transgressions with Venus.”

Salivoir gasped and Jupiter smiled in arrogance turning wretched King Salivoir into solid marble — yet Salivoir still lived within his frozen form. For ages he was there, his marble body cowering in fear. 

Then today a storm just as the one that occurred a millennia ago came and instead of the mighty Jupiter, Venus strode from the violent sky. The clouds turned a brilliant shade of sunset orange. Salivoir was freed and Venus in her benevolence granted him a new life in a new time; Salivoir wept for joy. 

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Shakespearean Sonnet - iambic pentameter abab cdcd efef gg, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

NaPoWriMo: Poem – Shakespearen Sonnet – “Guiding Each Other “


And finally, our prompt (optional, as always). Today, I challenge you to write a sonnet. Traditionally, sonnets are 14-line poems, with ten syllables per line, written in iambs (i.e., with a meter in which an unstressed syllable is followed by one stressed syllable, and so on). There are several traditional rhyme schemes, including the Petrarchan, Spenserian, and Shakespearean sonnets. But beyond the strictures of form, sonnets usually pose a question of a sort, explore the ideas raised by the question, and then come to a conclusion. In a way, they are essays written in verse! This means you can write a “sonnet” that doesn’t have meet all of the traditional formal elements, but still functions as a mini-essay of a sort. The main point is to keep your poem tight, not rangy, and to use the shorter confines of the form to fuel the poem’s energy. As Wordsworth put it, in a very formal sonnet indeed, “Nuns fret not at their convent’s narrow room.” Happy writing!

Please see the website for NaPoWriMo for more information. Rhyme scheme is abab, cdcd, efef, gg.

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http://www.womensweb.in

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Why do we forge ahead in life, no thought,

For others in our path, hindrance to steps,

Walking on people, won’t provide what’s sought.

Pick-up the down trodden, those who have wept,

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Provide helping hands, pick other’s up, give —

Show undeserved grace, to the sufferring,

We were there once, desperate, needing to live.

Falling apart at the seems, blustering.

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We’re here to aid others as we journey,

Time ticking past until, our lives are over.

Assisting friends, before they’re lost, learning.

Life isn’t ‘us;’ let kindness spillover.

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Emerging fresh, considering our steps,

Aiding ourselves, others, placing footsteps.

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©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved

Event, Flash Fiction, My Thoughts, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers: Goodbye Old San Francisco


Jacklyn loved the old part of San Francisco. She couldn’t think of anything she adored more than spending a morning walking and browsing in various shops.

As Jacklyn devoured Chinese food, the sky began to darken. A rumbling thunder could be be heard in the distance. Jacklyn felt apprehensive.

Fat drops of rain fell and became numerous. The rain fell in torrid sheets, pooling on the streets. Jacklyn and many others were soaked as they ran inside. The the wind arose strongly and it began to hail.  An eerie green light was cast upon the sky and Jacklyn froze as she saw a funnel cloud near.

The wind picked up as Jacklyn and others hid under tables in the Chinese restaurant. The acrid taste of fear was in her mouth. Jacklyn heard a roaring as the Tornado blew through the area; the sound went on forever.

Later, when the Tornado had passed, Jacklyn and the people inside the Chinese Restaurant’s building came outside. To Jacklyn’s shock, it was the only building in old San Francisco standing. She wept.

Word Count: 177 words

Town
The Story Tellers Abode: The Old Part of San Francisco

Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting the challenge!

Note: I have never been to San Francisco. I don’t know if they get Tornado’s there. But for the purposes of this story they do.

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©Mandibelle16. All Rights Reserved.

 

 

Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Writing 101 – The Red Sweater


www.optimalchiro.ie
http://www.optimalchiro.ie

A man and a woman walk through the park together, holding hands. They pass an old woman sitting on a bench. The old woman is knitting a small, red sweater. The man begins to cry. Write this scene.

Today’s twist: write the scene from three different points of view: from the perspective of the man, then the woman, and finally the old woman.

 

He hadn’t always wanted  a child. Michael found them messy and loud, a disturbance to his peace of mind. Then, Natalie became pregnant and the way he thought about a child changed. He could see her belly grow and feel the child kicking, a life force all her own saying, ” It’s me Dad. It’s me Mom. Are you out there?” Then the day came when Natalie started having large contractions and he drove her to the hospital excitedly proud that he would be a new Dad soon. The labour took hours and when the baby was born Natalie and Michael waited for it to give that first piercing cry of life, but the little one never cried. She didn’t move, she was still and remained still.

Walking through the park that day with Natalie the tiny red sweater reminded him of their lost baby and he wept. Was it his fault because he hadn’t wanted a baby in the first place that their little girl died?

Natalie watched her husband cry and at first, she didn’t know why. Mike was not an emotional man, she had rarely seen him cry except for maybe after she had given birth to a still-born child in the hospital. Then Natalie saw the little red sweater an old women was knitting and she understood why Michael wept. He was remembering the baby. She grimaced. Hours of labour and she had give birth to a lifeless doll. She didn’t understand why but the baby episode, all the preparations, the looking forward to the baby, the labour, had all made her feel numb. Natalie felt as if she didn’t exist as if her and Michael were 2 completely different people since that time 2-years ago. Mike had wanted another baby as soon as possible, she had shaken her head sadly at him and said, ” Maybe in a few years.” But Natalie didn’t know if a few years would ever come.

Grandma Florence sat happily knitting a little red sweater for her first grandchild. She was ecstatic and had even thought that none of her kids would have grandchildren, since they were all in their late 30’s anyways. She held up the tiny red sweater and a man walking by her with his wife begin to cry in earnest. Florence wondered why she holding up a little red sweater, would make anybody cry? Babies brought joy the world. They were the promise that life, that the world would continue with a piece of you in it. She shook her head absently, noticed she had goofed up the last stitch and went back to finishing the sweater on the bench. Her sparkling eyes and ruddy cheeks gave her the look of a grandma who was extremely happy and had never experienced what Natalie and Michael went through. She had other things to focus on.