MLMM Sunday Writing Prompt- The Quiet One

Today’s Sunday Writing Prompt is: The Quiet One

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Angel was named after her great-grandmother. But, it became more of a burden, than anything charming, early on.
Beside the fact that half the people who read it, called her Angle, it represented a level of grace and goodness impossible to live up to.
Being a gorgeous child was another mixed blessing. Blue eyes that any Snow Queen would envy and thick golden curls spun from sunlight itself.

But the worst inheritance great-grandma passed on, was also a really big secret she never expected because along with her great-grandmother’s name, and beauty, she had inherited her ‘gift’. It was never talked about even after Angel learned that she could look into people’s eyes and see their souls. Her family NEVER acknowledge it.
Angel first recognized her ability when she was four and the mail carrier knocked on her door asking if she might unlock it to receive a package. She peeked through the mail slot as the man stooped and said, “You’re such a lovely little girl. I have some candy in my truck. Come on out, sweetie.”. When she met his eyes, his face turn into an ugly troll which sent her screaming to find her mother!
From that day on, she denied eye contact as often as she could and according to multiple doctor evaluations, was soon labeled ‘simple’ so very little was ever asked of her and few even knew she existed.
Angel was 20 before she left her house. A memorial service for her tragically killed, lifelong caregiving parents, required it. Thankfully, people dabbed their eyes with tissues and closed them in prayer, so no one needed to be ‘looked at’ directly. Her curse never worked when she watched TV or videos. She actually wondered if she’d outgrown it but was terrified to try.
Whispers that she overheard at the funeral all had the term “Quiet one.” in reference to her.

Then people crowded to a podium to speak. Angel knew her future was going to open her to the world soon so she took a chance. It was heavenly! She was surrounded by breathtakingly colorful shining souls. A weight was lifted and she shook everyone’s hands thanking them.
She walked to the store, and went to the library, thereafter. “Pretty people” were everywhere!
Angel blossomed and got a custodian job at a church with a tiny congregation. She still avoided crowds but empty buildings weren’t a problem and she held her head up again. Some, ‘Pretty people’ became her friends.

A disturbance broke out in the alley one day, as she took out the garbage. Two young men had chased a businessman, knocked him down, and had stolen his wallet. She rushed to help him to stand. He claimed to be okay so she turned to reenter her parish, and lock up, when a voice behind her said, ” You’re a lovely girl. Stay here sweetie. I’ve got candy. “
Angel charged through the door and bolted it.
When she peaked through the barred windows, she fainted.

(500 words)

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Sunday Writing Prompt, July 18/21 – The Quiet One | Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie (

MLMM Sunday Prompt- Poetic Justice- Obituary of the Virtuous 2021

The KICKER for this week is, I would prefer anyone who feels inspired by this prompt to write in a poetic fashion. It doesn’t have to rhyme, but there should be a tempo, pace, a personal cadence.

Here lies:
Wisdom, Excellence, and Truth

Survived by:
Subjectivity, Equity, and Nihilism

Cause of death:
Narcissism, Ignorance, and Apathy

Eulogy will be given by:
Intellectual Honesty, Freedom, and Honor, as they knew them best and will soon join them.

Make charitable donations in their memory to:
Meaningfulness, the Work Ethic, and Justice
It’s unknown how, or if, they’ll survive on their own.

Sunday Writing Prompt, June 13/2021 – Poetic Justice | Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie (

MLMM Sunday Prompt~ A Fictional Futuristic Nightmare

Today’s Sunday Writing Prompt: Beautiful Mistake

It’s Autumn 2023, and the Covid-19 scare has lost its clout with many Americans.
Cases are down but, far more importantly, deaths from Covid-19 are well below those being recorded from the seasonal flu. A success that vaccinations fully claimed.
Chancy had not been vaccinated. She was a nurse who’d found the suppression of information on excellent early treatments terribly unnerving since 2020 and she also resisted the flood of media propaganda rationalization that the ‘vaccine’ was totally safe. There was NO way of being that certain. It was, after all, an experiment.
Chancy wasn’t obese, and had no other comorbidities that would lower her chances of survival from the virus below 99%. So, after checking with her doctor that he had access to early treatments, she couldn’t reasonably consider an “emergency experimental vaccine” as a good choice. Chancy couldn’t put her finger on it, but something just seemed terribly wrong.
Still, she was told by everyone she knew that her decision was a mistake. Ultimately she responded to all of them, “It’s my mistake to make!”.
Of course, with a barrage of many coercive forces, a part of her wondered if she had made the wrong decision?
It was early November 2023, when an alarming news story suddenly filled the media. The headline was: A New Version of Corona Virus Is Sweeping the World!
The rest of the story claimed that it was primarily targeting, and killing, the vaccinated population.
“How could that be?” she wondered.
Apparently, the new virus was also coming from China. Those citizens, who’d been vaccinated, had artificially, and inadvertently, trained their immune system to simply ignore new corona viruses through the experimental vaccination process! The success rate had been good but the unanticipated future of the ‘experiment’ was now decimating the world.
Chancy slipped on her shoes and headed straight for the hospital to offer aid. This was going to be cataclysmic!
A futuristic nightmare of epic proportion.
For matters of her own health, she took only a little comfort in knowing she’d made one beautiful ‘mistake’ by not getting vaccinated. But, this wasn’t a time for ‘I told ya so’.

Sunday Writing Prompt, May 9/2021 – Beautiful Mistake | Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie (

MLMM Prompt 5/2/21- Celestial Theme- Undone

Marcia didn’t have a last name. It just wasn’t done.

Mars had been colonized over the last decade, but not fully explored, so her mission was to wander and learn. Her observational skills were unrivaled. Base camp had grown to the size of a small city. An American and Australian flag hung motionless over the 1000 domes of various sizes and shapes, but she’d never been inside any of them. It just wasn’t done.

Out of nowhere, explosions happened! A fleet of successive concussions assaulted her outpost station. Marcia’s two comrades were thrown skyward, and blown to bits, moments after the roof disintegrated. If she hadn’t been anchored to a medical analytic machine, she would have ceased to exist too. A red mushroom shaped dust cloud rose into the thin atmosphere and just kept going while baseball-sized debris rained down for as far as the eye could see. Her station was pummeled mercilessly and holes were punched through every surface. Luckily, she made it to the ‘storm cellar’ and secured the cement lid without damage.

Fifty hours was the emergency protocol for allowing storms to pass so that was how long she’d stay put. The automatic generator was functioning which was her only need. But, the absence of her comrades weighed heavily on Marcia’s processor.

“This is what loss feels like?”, she queried.

It was unfamiliar, and most unpleasant. She would have liked to have been prepared for that response… but that just wasn’t done.

In her first moments outside the bunker, fifty hours later, Marcia’s bionic vision scanned the outpost and the base camp. G-O-N-E typed across her visor. An odd vibration filled her midsection.

“This is stress.”, she confirmed.

That had happened during her training and her memory banks recalled it. It was not supposed to happen to an android but it had. An order had been placed to fix that, but it just wasn’t done.
On closer inspection of the colony, she found a ‘storm cellar’ wide open and one escape pod missing.

“This must be relief.”, she verbalized. Her mechanical voice rising an octave.

That night, Marcia sat on the highest stone outcropping. Some humans most certainly had survived but none had retrieved her. That just wasn’t done.

“This must be the feeling of abandonment.”, she thought.

With her hands on her face, her shoulders shook in the darkness.

Sunday Writing Prompt, May 2/2021 – Out of This World | Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie (

MLMM Sunday Writing Prompt- Sounds of Birds

THIS WEEK’S CHALLENGE: Choose either sight, sound, or smell, and write a memory it triggers in you.

I’m a big fan of actively purposefully connecting with my senses. When something catches my eye, I pursue it for more sensual input. Yes, that’s probably why my career with children has been so rewarding. That’s exactly what kids do and why not being able to touch or sniff a priceless work of art, is unbearable for them.
My example comes from an experiment that asked me to recall a sensation.
I became intrigued by articles about Native American Spirit Animals. There’s no doubt in my mind that human beings are inseparable from Nature and that spiritual signs are everywhere.
So, there was a proposed experiment to find your own ‘spirit animal’. I thought, why not?
The experiment suggested a quiet calm space where you could just clear your mind in a meditative state and the first animal that presented itself to you would be your spirit guide. Did I mention that I was skeptical? I wasn’t even sure that I was capable of clearing my mind.
Well, I did it.
As I sat quietly, I suddenly heard the sound of red-winged blackbirds. I hadn’t heard them in a long while, at that time, because I wasn’t living by a marshy area. (That sound also triggered happy childhood memories of my grandparents’ farm.)
Red winged blackbirds were so outside of what I expected, and so specific, that I became a guarded believer that very day.
I look up animal meaning information often now, especially when I notice an unusual array of them in a time period.
There was such a time period right after my first granddaughter was born, when my photo adventures turned from frogs and salamanders to spiders. I was ALL about finding spiders!
A few years into that new photo fetish, I found my book on animal meanings.
I looked up spiders, for fun.
Spiders mean Grandmother. “The spirit of grandmotherly love.”
Just sayin’.

MLMM Sunday Writing Prompt – Three Senses | Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie (