Animals/Pets, Fairy Tale Themed, Fiction, Finish Off Fridays/Saturday Mix FlashFiction, Lune - 5,3,5 or 5 words, 3 words, 5 words, MindLoveMisery's Menagerie, My Thoughts, Nature, Poetry, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Saturday Mix/ Photo Challenge: Poem – Lunes – “The Raven’s Kaw” #poetry #saturdaymix #photochallenge


Thanks to Teresa of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting the prompt on flashbacks. And also thanks to NENEERAJ of MindLoveMisery’s Menageriefor hosting this week’s Photo Challenge. 

——-

Credit: Laura Makabesku

——-

Such blackness here, wild fears, 

Cannot be helped;

Once I paused, and saw —

——-

His Raven eyes spellbinding me.

Tapping the window, 

Glass shattering, I’m breathless

——-

Bedroom door locked, all asleep —

But for I, 

Raven kaws, advances towards me.

—–

I’m prey, what he desires, 

Shapeshifting bird becomes —

Enchanting man, tapping tappered fingers. 

—–

“Stop playing games and come away,” 

But in my —

Dreams of week’s before I —

——

Dreamt the Raven ripped out —

My throat raw; 

I became his dark companion.

—–

Life was grand but I —

Lost myself, 

In him; was loved but —

——

Destined for a fate I —

Scarce imagined with —

No place of my own. 

—-

When his world became too —

Much, I required —

Thinking space, some breathing room. 

——-

So when the Raven man, 

Of my dreams, 

Arrived — I knew him well. 

—-

And while he stared with —

Fascination at my, 

Coffee eyes purple-bruised, I —

——

Begged, if he was going —

To love me; 

I required a quiet space. 

—–

I couldn’t be his mistress, 

His everything without —

“A room of [my] own.” *

—–

Without, I couldn’t function well, 

And soar with –

Him at night; unless he —

——-

Promised to stay outside my —

Head, my. mind, 

And leave my thoughts alone.  

——-

We both needed some privacy. 

So with shiny, 

Wings bold we together flew. 

——

Before our flight, he gifted —

Mint-sapphire ring,

Binding us both in our —

—–

Promises — me that I had, 

Quiet space; he —

That I was his companion;

——-

His forever mate; loved well —

Our life together,

Shapeshifters seek dawn — Ravens night. 

——–

*Virginia Woolf – A Room of Her Own 

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved. 

dVerse, Fiction, Italian Sonnet - Iambic Pentameter - Octave (abbaabba) - Sestet (cdcdcd), Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Nature, Nonfiction, Photography/Visual Art, Poetry, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Writing, Writing Challenges

Poem: Italian Sonnet “What We Could Become” #dVerse #amwriting #poetry


Thanks to Lillian from #dVerse Poetics Pub for hosting last week’s prompt on Windows, looking in and looking out,.

——–

Credit: Jade Limcaco via UnSplash

———

Here I stand, watching the sea, in and out, 
The tide flows, paces itself in and out. 
Though I should be outside in the surf’s shout. 
Quiet of the indoors keeps me about. 
At grande window stopped, my mind with such doubt. 
Wrapping my sweater tightly thinking long, 
Of days gone by, the future’s pull, a song. 
Watching boats sail by, sea birds diving flout, 
Captured fish, tiny sea creatures, I pause. 
Unsure where to start, where to go, no hint —
Of what lies before me, from the before. 
So I wait, I wander, I wait for you, flaws —
And all; unsure if you were a dream or —  
Some hopeful vision, what we could become. 

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved 

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

Sunday Photo Fiction: Good Juju #amwriting #flashfiction #magic 


Thank you to Alastair Forbes for hosting SPF.

——

Credit: Dawn Miller
——

“So what are those exactly?” Todd asked Cheryl.

“Maybe the shop owner can tell us more. . . Hello Sir, what are these pottery items used for?”

“Little stoves. Keep you warm through winter’s night and keep the dark ones away.”

“Dark ones?” Todd and Cheryl asked in unison.

“Yes,” the man said, ” The evil spirits. The ones you don’t see. These stoves are good juju.”

“Juju?”

“They’re for candles. See venting in top lids. You leave them on when you sleep because bad ones will only leave then; it’s when they come out.”

“But what’s juju?” Todd asked the shop owner perplexed.

He sighed, frustrated, “Juju are items of magic. Can be magic for good or magic for bad. A curse or a blessing.”

Cheryl smiled. “That’s neat actually. I’ll take two, I don’t know about leaving them on at night . . .”

“Madam must leave them on this night or it will be too late.”

“Pardon?” Cheryl said nervously. She gazed at the shopowner thinking he was off his rocker.

Todd noticed the agitation of the shop owner and seeing how inexpensive the simple candle holders were, paid for four.

“Best choice. Spirits will flee,”the shop owner said bowing.

That night Cheryl awoke and to her terror she saw dark shadows such as dementors surrounding the bedroom ceiling above their bed.

Her eyes flew towards the candle holders nearby and she was relieved to see the dementor-like beings stayed away from the candle light. They left via the window which somehow had been opened.

Getting up Cheryl closed the window shivering both from cold and fear. 

——

©Mandibelke16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Fiction, Friday Fictioneer, My Thoughts, Nature

Friday Fictioneer: The Mystery of the Chair in The Middle of The Lake #amwriting #flashfiction 


Thanks to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields for hosting FF.

——

Credit: Ted Strutz

——–

“Hey Liz, what’s your kitchen chair doing out in the middle of the lake?” Barb asked.

Liz was perplexed, “My first thought was that my boys had done this, thinking it would be funny. But this is just the type of thing their Dad would think was hilarious too.”

“Maybe Mark did it?” 

“No he was out like a light at 10:00 pm. The boys were genuinely surprised about the chair and ran to the window to see it. I actually believe they didn’t do it,” Liz said. 

—–

The next day the snow was blizzarding, the temperatures so frigid the lake froze thickly. When warmer weather returned Liz saw her Dad outside fishing through a hole in the ice. 

She smiled walking out to the ice where her Dad sat:”Dad, did you move this chair outside for fishing?” 

Liz’s Dad laughed,” I did not. But it was just sitting here so I figured why not use it?” 

The mystery of the chair in the middle of the lake continues. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.

Current Events, Health, Inverted Refrain - abab (ba) or (ab) - 8 syllable - indent last two lines., Memories/Childhood, My Thoughts, Nature, Nonfiction, Poetry, Relationship, Religion/Morality, Writing

Poem: Inverted Refrain – “Light His Words” #poetry #amwriting #christmas 


Credit: Christmas Moment

——

For more information on the Inverted Refrain Type of Poetry see HERE

——

You told me to seek out glowing light, 

Shining through the shadow’s eerie prowl. 

You told me to search, put up a fight. 

But darkness creeping made me scowl,

            In a shuttered room, such a sight, 

            Light entered in my heart soft white.

——

You told me to seek beyond all glimmer, 

In rough housing, a dank stable. 

Prayers answered found in the dim. 

Move through sadness as I’m able. 

           Sunlight came in through a window.

            Broken pieces fit, once more cabled

——

You told me to seek out a source of hope, 

It’s difficult when you’re fragmented. 

When life makes no sense, and you choke, 

Forgetting life is heaven sent. 

          Words, many vital unspoken, 

          Fading dream; to him not present. 

——

You told me keep reaching for light, 

Guidence from your blessed kind words.

I’m still dealing, an unglued fright, 

But I found my resting place, heard —

         Such honour, glorious of sights, 

          A babe at Christmas, light His words. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved. 

Fiction, Music and Performers, My Thoughts, November Notes, Poetry, Relationship, San San - abcabdcd - three terms repeat in poem., Writing, Writing Challenges

November Notes: Poem – Day 20 – San San – “Friends With Pain” #amwriting #novembernotes #poetry #writing


Today’s prompt song is “Pain Told By Love” by Tribe Society.


 

“Pain Told By Love” – Tribe Society 

 


 

Credit: Alyssa Monks – Combustus

She said she’d learned, it was okay to cry, though she hurt,

More than rain commingled on her window, love and pain

Two sides of a coin, commingled; both were needed.

That’s why she made a friend of pain, she’d learned, it’s worth.

Built world surrounding misery, love and pain, 

Realized that hurricanes commingled her feelings.

She would always need both love and pain to succeed,

Hurricanes made flowers grow, she learned, don’t hide — feel.


 


©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Fiction, Flash Fiction, My Thoughts, Relationship, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Travel, Writing

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


Thanks to Alistair Forbes for hosting SPF.

—–

A Mixed Bag

——-

Chad awoke finding himself in an indistinguishable bedroom, lying in bed. He knew he’d recently had surgery for his gun shot wound.

He gazed out the window at miserable surroundings. A muddy canal separated this gated house from apartments under construction. 

Chad rubbed his heavy eyes, shocked to see Garig standing infront of his bed. “What do you want?” Chad squeeked.

Garig shrugged, sitting on the bed close to Chad. He smacked Chad on his side, jarring his wound.

 “I’ve been in the dark for many years.” Garig said, his nearly, albino complexion frightening with a gritty voice.

“The dark?” 

” I thought Tom and I were both siding with the Russians Chad. Tom played a double agent well. He acted like my best friend for decades. I believed, like you, you were Tom’s son.” 

Chad tried to speak but Garig shushed him. 

“I rescued Tom from near death in military prison in the US and nursed him back to life in Russia. But I had never trusted Tom after he stole Mona, your Mom from me. The nuclear bomb hidden in your tattoo was my fail safe –Tom wouldn’t betray me again.”

“I didn’t know Tom was deep undercover all this time and I was his commander. But our Russian higher-ups, they liked Tom, he always got the job done. It wasn’t until I found out he’d been siphoning secrets to the US — for nineteen-years, that I caught on. Mona told me you were actually Sam’s son Chad.” Garig said, then smiled disturbingly.

“You wouldn’t know this, but your mother and I have kept in touch for years. How do you think I found Sam and you with Bastion?” 

Chad angerily shoved at Garig, but Garig smacked Chad’s side again. 

“At the museum where Bastion died, Tom was there –but not with me. I knew he was probably trying to save you, that he found out about the special code I put in your tattoo. Then, some idiot marine wounded you and deactivated the bomb.”Garig said disgusted. 

“But Garig, I  . . .” Chad started mumbling before Garig cut him off.

Garig’s smile was malevolent: “Chad, I can’t let you live. Sam has been chasing me since you were born and I owe him; not to mention, Sam slept with Mona. Add to that Tom’s betrayel of almost twenty-years, and I have a deserved reason to kill you.”  

“How can you kill me since you obviously, love my Mom?”  Chad asked trembling.

“Your Mom is dead Chad. She would have prevented me from killing you. Mona was the only person who knew Tom was alive all this time. She needed to pay for betraying my trust and being such a slut and having you in the first place.” 

Garig took out a large hunting knife from his leather jacket, grazing it’s sharp edge against  Chad’s throat. 

“I think we should give Sam and Tom some lasting memories of you Chad. Don’t you?” 

———

Sorry, part nine is so long. Wrapping things up is hard!  

Read Part Eight here. 
———

©Mandibelle16.(2016) All Rights Reserved.

Free Verse, My Thoughts, Nonfiction, Poetry, Relationship, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Travel, Writing

Poem: Free Verse – “Walls and Wings” (Reposted from Aug 2013)  #poetry #amwriting #relationship


This came up on my FB feed. I wrote it three-years ago and actually am happy with the way the poem was written, with some small changes. 

I was in a relationship and felt trapped. I longed to escape. I did; for this reason, I smile when I read this poem.

I broke free and things are all the better because I was given the strength to fly.

———–

http://www.motaen.com

——–

When the walls press in on me, cold stone, slimy, and grainy.

I search for the window which opens, when prison doors close.

Metal bolted tightly, oppression ripe in stale breath;

Little holes for air, aligned metal cylinder by metal cylinder.

I peer out the door and see a tiny hope blooming.

A Lilly in the cell corner opens slowly — white, soft, and curled.

Beautiful, lonely; the more you try to understand beauty, 

The more you see it’s fleeting.

 A Lily in the corner, with little light — it’s dying.

No window will shine sunlight on it’s glory, 

The cryptic darkness covers and creeps. 

The beautiful wilts, wanes, warped – a brown wasted mess.

Sitting in the corner, nothing pretty here — the pretty is ghostly.

The length of light, coming through, above the window sill fades;

All were left with is darkness, and dusk sets in quickly.

Purple bruises in the sky, which I can scarcely see, 

Slither into to a deep black dullness, 

No stars shine in the prisoner’s sky.

———–

Bracelets of steel, cold, and unforgiving — small wrists will not fit;

Through these round holes, which cut and divide, 

Hand from praying hand, at the 4:00 am hour.

I do not understand or know, how long I can take this.

To not want the fate of another, is it too much to ask? 

To be disappointed, not understood, used until I’m broken. 

To always be alone right next to another person, 

To always write these words sad and full of loathing.

Guns in the night, shoot me first.

These shackles are no golden bracelets, 

No silver charms adorn them;

You can’t buy this jewelry at Pandora

Steel is only made at rough factories. 

Oppressive, only manufactured, never crafted —

In grace and finery, with delicacy and laughter tingling.

Every time you shake the charms, tiny bells ring.

What do you do when charms no longer charm?

And brightness narrows into a black hole? 

——–

I think you run, slipping through the window.

You don’t look back,  though your feet hurt, 
To run on rocks and sand, and weep blood to be free.

I think you go, no matter how. 

Before you’re trapped, and chained to walls of slimy stone.

You turn and go, before those eyes see you; 

Those eyes you thought saw you but — don’t see you at all.

 And only have memories of days gone by.

You run because to be alone with eyes,

Is too alone; the stone angel trapped in fragility of life,

 Wasting her days, growing bitter and aged;

Never forgiving, the young, who see light with possibility.

The light rises over, a cold moon rises;

 Refreshes and results in absolution.

A crime has been committed, but sometimes laws, 

Must be broken to live in self – forgiveness, in self-acceptance.

This world is not black and white; my feet take off —

Crouch, then sprout talons, and white wings at my back. 

All of this for freedom, to become a bird, 

A lesser creature, all to fly in heavens glory.

All for that feeling in your chest, 

Where you can finally breathe. 

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Etheree - 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10 syllable count, Fiction, My Thoughts, Poetry, Relationship, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Word High July, Writing

 Poem: Cascading Etherees- “A Lovers Portrait Of Her Tinatangi.” #wordhighjuly #introtopoetry


The poetry 101 prompt is faces with alliteration. 

——–


——-

http://www.favim.com

——–

You were sleeping so soundly, tinatangi

Sun through window, I stifled a grin when, 

Turned towards me tangled in your, 

Dreams, whispering words; couldn’t —

Understand what you said, 

But I studied your face,

Relaxed, peaceful, 

Why are you, 

Always, 

Grim.

——

Mask, 

Yourself, 

Expression, 

Sober reflection, 

Until I made you smile, 

Until You cornered me, 

Stealing a kiss and, 

I stole a few more and you, 

Never resisted until you, 

Pulled back, gasping, feeling was —

Mutual; then you turned emotionless.

—-

But the hallway kisses sparked repeats and, 

Clothes half-off, avoiding all others, 

Enough of closets, empty rooms, 

So now, I’m in your bed and, 

Passions had its day.

Do you soundly sleep?

Replete, happy?

Or are you, 

Hiding, 

Us.

—–

I’ve

Watched your, 

Face alter, 

Become gentle, soft, 

I’ve seen your eyes gleem, 

Small wrinkles, laugh lines in–

Corners of eyes and your smile, 

Sends me spinning, lips plush and full.

Your nose rubs against mine in a kind of, 

Kiss, they kiss in other lands; here we’ve our mouths.

——

Wonderously blessed, to oversee your sleep,

You lay vulnerable to the world but, 

From me never hide; I’ll keep you, 

Safe from prying eyes but mine, 

Allow me adventure, 

Cheekbones high, stubbled,

Jaw; dip in chin.

Scent of fresh, 

Showered, 

Skin.

—–

I

Know your, 

Hard gazes, 

And brown eyes soft, 

For me to love you best.

After, you rest tranquil.

Breath, so comforting; lulling me, 

Into another nap; exploring paused, 

Then, hands sifting your dark silky hair, mussed.

——-

Smoothing thumb, curved brows; trace eyelashes, 

Long and sinfully dark; then over mouth.

Lush, inviting; I imprint my own, 

Over collarbone, hollow–

Of your throat, back up to,

Plush lips; you wake and, 

Caress my cheek.

Laughing of

My love, 

Trace.

——

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.

Fiction, Flash Fiction, May Day Prompts, My Thoughts, Short Stories And Serial Stories, Writing

Maydays: Fiction – Part 2 – After The Plane Crash #Maydays


——-

Thanks to K.L. Caley of new2writing for hosting #Mayday prompts. Today’s theme is a battle or fight of some kind. Also, Part 2 of a continuing series After The Plane Crash. Read Part 1 here. The battle I’m showing is the main characters fight through her fever and aches from being lost in the wild two weeks.

———

Please read Part 1 here.

——-

“Young lady are you awake.” A woman’s voice whispered to me quietly. “What’s your name?”

I make a noise, not wanting to leave the land of my dreams. It’s safe and peaceful here. Danny is with me and we’re drinking a beer together like old times. I know my friend is not real but I don’t want to admit to myself in my dreams; Danny is dead.

A gentle hand feels my forehead. “She has a high fever. I’m not surprised being out in the wilderness that long. She’s sweating. I think it was an excellent thing the doctor got here so fast and we were able to hook her up to an IV to get some fluid and nutrition into her body.”

 The woman’s voice was soft and sensible. She sounded like the voice of a lady who was a mother. She smoothed back my hair and I sighed in my state of half sleep. I was cold and sweating at the same time. Iceness overcame me and I shivered trying to pull plush blankets around me as I sweated.

“Aunt Tabitha, what can we do? If we keep giving her the IV as the doctor said, and introduce her to some soup and other food in a few days, do you think she’ll be alright?” 

The voice I heard speaking was the deep male voice I had heard before I passed out. The voice had a rich timber, it sounded young and attractive. 

A small smile shaped my lips, then I groaned as cold sweat overcame me. “Poor thing,” Aunt Tabitha said. “I’ll take care of her Eric. Don’t worry, your Auntie took care of you when you were ill as a child and I would do the same for this poor young woman.”

“I appreciate it Aunt Tabitha. I really do. I didn’t know who else to call. The workers wanted nothing to do with her.They thought she had some awful disease the way she appeared to them.”

Tabitha gave a harsh laugh. “Ha, those locals are full of stories and superstitions which have no basis in reality. This woman will be fine. When I clean her up a bit and later when she can wash her hair, I imagine she’s a beautiful girl, Eric. I hope the man who died in that plane crash wasn’t her boyfriend.”

“ I don’t know . . .” Eric said softly. “I’ll leave you too it.” I heard him walk away and a door shutting.

 I was awake but not fully. I faded in and out of feverish dreams, nightmares where I was trapped in a never ending forest. No animals in sight. Nothing edible and carrying no water. Only dead silence filling my ears.

I was dressed in a bra and panties and had nothing else on — not even shoes. Darkness descended and it began to snow and my body was wracked by cold as the wind picked up and the snow built up around me. I couldn’t move. I was so cold I was frozen stiff like an ice sculpture; I shrieked aloud.

——–

Eons pass where I am stuck inbetween what’s real and what’s in my dreams. I dream about my Mom and Dad, how worried they would be about me. I know it’s been past two-weeks now since the plane crash. My feaver hasn’t abated for days but Aunt Tabitha dutifully stays at my side. At night there is a hired nurse. A thin bird-like woman who doesn’t speak English but sees to my needs. 

Aunt Tabitha is with me whenever she can be. I’m aware of her reading on her tablet. Sometimes she reads to me, but I want to tell her she’s only giving my mind more material for nightmares. 

I know she has asked me my name several times but I have trouble finding a voice strong enough to answer her when I feel semi-lucid. Only when nightmares overwhelm me do I scream and plead for them to stop using my voice loudly.

Today my head feels much clearer. I look to see the IV attached to my arm and am thankful it’s giving me nutrients because I think food would repulse me right now. With heavy eyes I scan the room. Strangely, Aunt Tabitha isn’t here. 

I move my head and neck gently, testing my muscles which ache from being in bed too long and from hiking through the woods. I wiggle my toes and stretch my legs. I straighten my arms infront of me and put my arms above my head, stretching my whole body like a cat. I feel a jolt of pain in my side.

Pain throughout my body becomes apparent. Bruises and scrapes mostly. I look at my one wrist and see it’s wrapped in a bandage.I must have sprained it. I’m not sure why I didn’t notice when the sprain occurred.

I feel dirty and have the urge to scrub my body until my skin is pink. A bath would be heavenly. My hair is limp and greasy on my head, I can’t remember ever having hair this scungy. 

I lean up in bed regarding the room around me. It’s a large bedroom and the room,  a work of art and design. The room has a peaceful ambiance, painted in grey-blue.

The furniture including the head board behind me is bleached wood like drift wood from the ocean. I feel relaxed in this place, gazing towards a giant white window with a padded blue window seat full of pillows matching my bed’s dark ink blue duvet and silver and white striped sheets.

I haven’t seen the sun in days. The bright white light of the sun bathes me through the window, but is too bright for my eyes. I shade my face with my hand and gaze in awe at the lush greeness of the mansions front yard. They’re fountains and flowers in the distance.

“Wow,” I say and my voice feels gravelly. I start saying random words and sentences aloud to make my voice sound normal but I can’t seem to rid my voice of its weakness.

 I raise my body into a sitting position, crossing my legs under the bed covers. My body cooperates slowly and with aches, but I manage. 

I have decided to have a bath or showe.  I’m certain I can stand and walk. On careful feet as if I were a toddler, I slip out of the bed and start walking to the bathroom I spied at the end of the room. 

It feels so far away at first but my legs remember how to walk quickly and my steps are more assured as I go. Resting against the door frame, I peer into the bathroom.

There is a large tiled glass shower with a wooden bench inside; I am thankful for the bench.The bathroom is designed well with a heavy marble countertop, twin sinks, and dark blue cabinets underneath the counter. A vanity table near by, holds a few cosmetics, clearly for a woman. The toilet is inside a closet in the corner of the bathroom.

I drop my clothes on the wood floor, carefully removing them as my muscles are still sore. The loose grey sweat pants and large white T-shirt are far too roomy to be my clothing and I leave them on the floor.

 I open up the shower door and hobble over to the bench where I sit turning on the shower nozzle convienantly located near my head. The shower is hot, too hot at first. But the showerhead gives a cleansing rainfall shower. I sigh in pleasure as the water washes over me. Picking up a puff hanging on the wall, I squirt jasmine scented Dior body wash on it. I scrub my body free of natures dirt and fevers sweat. 

My body’s skin is as pink as I imagined, when I reach for Dior face wash and volumizing shampoo. I wash my hair four-times before I’m satisfied it’s clean and I condition it, letting the conditioner soak into my dry long brunette strands before washing it out. The sun has caused some of my brunette strands to bleach blond.

When I’m done washing, I relax and let the hot rainfall water run massaging my muscles which ache. I stay inside the shower longer then necessary but I haven’t felt this well in forever.

 “Are you ever coming out?” a deep voice asks outside the shower chuckling.

I gasp and quickly turn the shower off fumbling. I cover myself with my hands uselessly. Eric is outside the glass shower and I’m naked inside, no towel within reach.

——–

©Mandibelle16. (2016) All Rights Reserved.