book bag boyfriends-kindness of strangers-Daily Prompt


While I was finishing up my undergrad, I decided to take the train to school. It was cheaper than paying for a parking pass. I can’t remember if it was $400 a semester or a year, but either way it was too much money for me. Besides, the train let me off a block away from campus, and I loved walking. Camden sidewalks aren’t conducive for stilettos, so I just put them in the book bag for when I went to work.

In case you weren’t aware, I received my BA in English at Rutgers. Trust me, I am not saying this to brag. I am saying this because my books that were in the book bag consisted of mostly literature anthologies that were easily five to seven pounds. So on any given school day, I had about fifteen to twenty eight pounds on my back. And while I was waiting for my breakfast at the food truck, I let my bag fall to the sidewalk with a thud. This caught the attention of two of the locals.

The first guy was short and really skinny. By his clothing he was either a “user” homeless or both. I came to find out later his name was Winnie. The other guy was dressed better and was well kept. And God forgive me, but I do not remember his name, so I will call him Gus.

Gus was obnoxious to the people on the street. He would speak, almost, yelling at them as if he knew who they were. I found out later Gus had no idea who they were.

Back to the thud of my book bag. Both Winnie and Gus were in awe of the thud it made, and as I were reaching into my back pocket to pay for my breakfast, Winnie tried to pick it up.

Damn Sis, you gotta dead body in there? Gus you try this shit?

I smiled, and that’s when Gus showed off his man strength.

Nah, she just one of dem real smart chicks.

Then he started walking down the block with my bag with Winnie jogging behind him. I started jogging as well.

“Hey, I got it Gus!!” I said a little panicked. I mean he just walked off with hundreds of dollars of books not to mention all my notes. But Gus whipped around sharply, “What building is your first class?”

“Oh no, you don’t…”

“The hell I don’t. My Mom Mom would smack the shit outta me if I let you carry this big ass boulder every day.”

“But I don’t have any mon…”

“Don’t insult me by offering me money. I know we in Camden and all, but there are still kind people here.”

As we reached the front of the building, Gus put my bag down, but Winnie was nowhere to be found. I looked around for him.

“Winnie will be back later. Always is. But one day, Ima buy you somma dem gladiator sandals that tie around your calves. Cuz I know they thick” He said winking at me, “and then I’ll take you to get some seafood when you graduate.”

I smiled and picked up my bag, and gave Gus a hug.

“Thank you Gus.”

“Thank me by learnin sumthin, Sis. See ya tomorrow.”

I saw my buddies every morning until my last semester of school. I found out later from the food truck cook that Winnie was hit by a cab, and Gus got arrested for vagrancy. I never saw them again, but they were good people.


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Saved By The Dog-Daily Prompt


The walk into the woods was slow. Agonizing. She figured this rape would be too. He got off on her fear. Came quicker. Hurt her less. So as if on cue, she started shivering, and he pressed his excitement onto her back. It was disgusting; he was disgusting. But she kept up the façade because without it, she could be there for hours. She was still swollen from the last time. So when a dog darted out from an over grown patch of weeds, she screamed and ran. He didn’t bother to chase her; he figured its owner was nearby.

© michele mitchell, 2014


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Changing Cells-The Daily Post (Flash Fiction)

His grip was too tight, but she kept her head held high. Even though she knew the outcome, she would not shed tears. It was going to be more claustrophobic than the last time. Meals and showers monitored. If she got one hour of freedom, it was because she was exceptionally good. She heard the keys jingle as her door was locked. She had one shred of solace left, and he had no idea. The cell phone delivered by UPS overnight and she only needed it once. “Fuck him” she muttered as she finally dialed 911. It’s over.


Summer Spirit-It’s My Party


In case you didn’t know, I am speaking into existence a home on the beach.

My porch will wrap around the house providing a deck area off of the kitchen which has a gorgeous view of the beach. One would only have to walk down a few wooden steps that led to a wooden path. At the end of this path, would be a beautifully crafted bar. I haven’t decided what material it would be made of but it will have wind chimes attached to the roof. There will be a myriad of fruity alcoholic beverages along with the brown liquor for the more masculine guests.

Women will be wearing loose fitting summer attire in an array of colors to represent balance of the Universe. Men, if they should choose, will wear either cream or beige linen outfits since it will more than likely be balmy outside even with the Sea breeze. Shoes, eh, optional since we will be traveling back and forth from sand to porch. If you must wear shoes, flip flops will be just fine. There will be reggae and/or jazz heard from the surround sound speakers on the porch. We will be dancing, swaying, and giggling as our food is being prepared. Hopefully, I will be a full blown pescetarian by then, so there will be a myriad of grilled seafood, vegetable and fruit trays along with a varieties of fondue for dipping delicacies.

Did I mention beside the bar is a hot tub/jacuzzi?  Feel free to take your beverages and relax a while.

As the sun sets, a fire will be built not too far from the water’s edge where will can continue to eat, dance, drink, or dry off after a swim. For those who wish to stay the night, the large mediation room on the bottom floor of my home, is complete with pillows, blankets, and even a few futons. Feel free to freshen up in the large bathroom off of the meditation room for a good night’s sleep.

In the morning, breakfast will be served along with glasses of juice, cups of coffee or flavored teas.

This party is by invitation only and if it is a success will happen once a Summer.

But why wouldn’t it be a success?





Where’s MY Invite??




forever and a day


They were each other’s’ Light. In the darkest days, his aura was an urgent dawn rushing to mate with her blushing dusk. It was no surprise that they would share their vows when the horizon was consumed with the colors of Joy. And when the Sun dipped into the Sea, their Lovemaking made all the stars twinkle.

© michele mitchell, 2014

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Just a Rock


“You do know I lost my breath when I saw your name pop up on my phone?” She said blowing smoke through her nose, while furiously typing on her laptop.

“I’m sorry about that, but you are the only person who I know who could help me with this.” He said as he lowered his head onto the steering wheel.

She chuckled and smiled, “And I always told you I would help you. Are you there yet?”

“Yeah, I have been sitting in the parking lot afraid to go in.”

“You should be dammit.” She was toying with him initially. “At this point you should have it memorized.”

“Size seven. Emerald cut. Platinum band.” He said like he was out of breath.

“Do you need me to come there with you? I can. But there’s really no need to be this nervous. She Loves YOU. Not your words, not a tortured piece of coal, YOU. You could get her a malachite set in silver and she would ADORE it. But there is one thing you should know.”

His whole body tensed up, “What’s that?”

“It’s about damn time.”


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The Power of Magic


James could still hear the baby wailing as he locked the door behind him. His wife’s words were like an obnoxious alarm clock buzzing in his ears.

You need to do something James.

Aren’t you tired of living like this?

What kind of man are you anyway?

He pulled his wool hat over his ears. It muffled the baby’s cries. But his head still echoed with all the insults and insinuations. It infuriated him. He wrapped his hand around the pistol he hand in his jacket pocket as he pushed open the door of the corner store.

Instead of the normal sleigh bells that would bang against the glass. He heard a twinkling. James frowned slightly and pushed his hat back off of his ears. He took a deep breath and was startled by the aroma of newborn clouds and cotton candy James’ eyes darted around the store, but he saw no one. Then he heard the twinkling again; he whipped around quickly.

And came face to face with Magic.

Magic looked like just what one would imagine him to look like. His dark clothing flowed from his body and had its own aura surrounding it that glimmered like shooting Stars. He had the face of a cherub except with a long ivory beard with strands of silver woven within it.

As he went to place his hand on James’ shoulder, his arm left a trail of indigo in the now completely dark store.

More twinkling before Magic spoke.

“Your rent and utilities have been paid for a year. Groceries will be delivered once a week .At the end of the year, they will start building along the waterfront and will need a foreman at the site.”

The only condition is that you let me train you for a year…

© michele mitchell, 2014


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Stranger Than My Fiction


Every day, I wake up, put on my uniform and smile. My gait is swift as I deliver the neighborhoods wishes and wants from my sack. It’s better than being Santa Claus.

And I smile.

My customers await me with open arms eager to make pleasant conversation as they let their dogs back in the house. They offer a hand with the bulky packages. We don’t speak about the weather because it is always sunny, but not hot not cold , never humid.

And pollen?


I smile. Because although the sun is still shining, there is no glare on the drive home.

Home- a beautiful, clean, comfortable place of solace. My kids are in their rooms doing their homework while the aroma of my favorite meal drifts from the kitchen and makes my mouth water.

And I smile.

After dinner, a hot bath awaits me as my clothes are pressed for work the next day. I meditate and pray then get rubbed down in lavender oil before I climb in my bed and hold her. Breathe in her essence. She’s the writer, but she edited my world for me.

And I smiled.

For real.


© michele mitchell, 2014


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intimate stranger


There’s a guy sitting on a park bench reading a newspaper. Next to him was knapsack. I smiled at him and he winked at me.

“Would you care to sit here?” He asked moving the bag onto his lap. His eyes were a sparkling hazel, and they made his copper complexion glow. His red locks were carefully tucked under his cap.

“I don’t want to disturb you,” I said.

“You haven’t and you won’t. Come sit. Share my lunch.”

As I sat down, I tucked my sundress beneath me, “No I couldn’t.”

He smiled, “But you’re hungry.”

I looked at him quizzically, “But how…”

“And don’t worry about that man. He sincerely Loves you. He just needs some time to comprehend he is worthy of you.”

Stunned, I watched him reach into his bag and he pulled out a sandwich wrapped in tin foil and a small thermos, “It’s tuna fish on a Kaiser roll. I have some rippled potato chips in here as well.”

“They’re my…”

“Favorites. I know. Do you want to guess what is in the thermos, or should I tell you?”

“Is it grape juice?”

He smiled, and unwrapped the sandwich giving me half along with some chips on a napkin, “Help yourself to the grape juice. My bus is coming.”

“But what is your name?” I asked frantically seeing a bus rounding the corner.

“My friends call me, Joe. And watch the pigeons before they eat the other half of the sandwich.”

I turned around to shoo the pigeons away, but they took off in the other direction. Thank God, because I am scared of pigeons. When I turned back around, the bus was away and Joe was gone. I prayed that he knew how grateful I was to him, but I wondered how he knew all of those things about me. I went back to the bench, twisted open the thermos, but when I went to take a sip a folded index card hit me in the lip. I took it out, opened it and read:

St. Joseph is the patron saint of answered prayers

There is another thermos in the bag with your grape juice.

God says you’re welcome.


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Meeting of The Souls-Short Story Prompt-Poets and Writers


“So are you excited about Hawaii?” My brother asked me.

“Yeah, but not for the reasons you think.” I answered.

When I arrived on the beach in Maui. I took the longest inhale I could ever remember taking. If heaven has a scent, it would be that of orchids and salted sea air. I exhaled slowly as I wanted to linger in the aroma for as long as I could.

Then, I saw him. The scene looked like a brochure. Jean-Michel was sitting Indian-style on a huge wicker mat surrounded by shells different shapes and colors. His locks were probably down to his waist now, but he had them tied up in a bun atop his head. His smile rivaled the sparkle in his eyes as he grabbed my hand to help me sit down next to him.

“You’re not going to publish anything we say here today are you?” he asked as he offered me a piece of mango from a Tupperware bowl.

I took a piece and smiled warmly, “Not without your permission.”

“Good.” He then took a shell and started scribbling crowns and birds in the wet sand.

“So you never stopped creating?” I asked him.

“Does anyone? We are always creating something. Goals, meals, excuses, our own hype even.”

“Did you create your own hype?”

He sighed and rubbed his bronzed cheeks leaving streaks of sand that crept into the creases of his smile.

“So you think my success was hype?” He asked wrinkling his nose at me.

“No. I was just piggybacking off your statement.”

“Great choice of words. I am having a luau later. Would you like to join me?”

“I can’t think of a reason not to. Who else will be there?”

“Us, Andy, and the pig.”

“Andy is here with you?”

“Why wouldn’t he be?”

“Well where is he?”

He took a fistful of sand and let it fall through his fingers. A breeze caught it and sprinkled some sand in the container with the mango. “He is so porcelain; he can’t enjoy the sun. He will join us at sundown.
I dared not ask where we would be. I’m sure he would tell me. Besides, I had so many other things I needed to know about soul mate with only twenty nine more days to ask.

“I am honored that you invited me here. So thank you.”

He popped a piece of sandy mango into his mouth and giggled as the nectar dripped down his chin, “How could I not. You’re story about my whereabouts intrigued me. Not too many people think about me anymore.”

Stunned, my mouth dropped open in a gasp, “You’re kidding me?! You are an artistic icon!!!”

“But my paintings aren’t what I am speaking about. From your letter, you wanted to get to know me.”

My heart pounded, “I do.”

He smiled, “You have mango juice on your chin.”

“I do?”

“Let me get that for you.”

Then he kissed me.


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