The Interview

September 30, 2018October 1, 2018Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: Asylum, Broadmoor, Elderly, empathy, Flash Fiction, Interview, Life Lessons, Micro-fiction, Short Story, Trauma, Writing prompt Leave a comment

The Broadmoor in Crowthorne Berkshire "opened in 1863 as the first building in England built as an asylum for the criminally insane." Today it houses dangerous criminals including the Yorkshire Ripper and the Suffolk Strangler. There is now talk of turning this building into a luxury hotel.

“How did I get here? Too many times of the world painting life in bleak pain and despair,” her wrinkled hand passed over a face lined with history and sorrow.

I looked down at my own hands, fingers marked with blots of ink. I never managed to learn how to hold writing implements far enough from the tip.

Mrs. Glendale leaned forward and her hand touched my knee. The attendant didn’t flinch but I held my breath and wondered, again, what made me choose the asylum for the criminally insane for my project.

“Whatever happens, child,” she whispered, “remember it is best for your heart to brandish hope, not revenge.”

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt

Pink Duo

September 30, 2018Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Photography, Reflections, Things Kids Say, Writing Tags: Family, InThePink, Peeking, Photo Challenge, Photography, Poetry, Siblings, Sisters, Things Kids Say, Toddlers, travel, View 4 Comments

Photo: Chagit Moriah-Gibor

Come on Sis

Let us peek

Through the slats

On this bridge

At the world

That flows through

Underneath

Me and you.

For Square in September: Pink

Fleecy Sky

September 30, 2018Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Meditations, Muse and Flow, Photography, Reflections, Writing Tags: Cirrus clouds, Clouds, Lens-Artists, Looking up, Meditation, Metaphor, Photo Challenge, Photography, Poetry, Reflections, Sky 6 Comments

Photo: Orly Fuchs Galchen

When the clouds

Wrap the heavens

With fleece specs

Lined to dry,

Will the skies

Warm the living

With dappled light

From on high?

For the Lens-Artist Photo Challenge: Look up

Commuting Perspective

September 30, 2018September 30, 2018Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Photography, Reflections, Writing Tags: City life, Commuting, Going to work, hardship, Perspective, Photo Challenge, Photography, Sunday Stills, Transportation, World travel 2 Comments

Photo: Smadar Halperin-Epshtein

When stuck in stalled traffic

Or standing smooshed on the train

I remind myself how

For many

The commute is truly a strain.

For Sunday Stills: Transportation

Pollinate Hope

September 29, 2018Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Photography, Reflections, Writing Tags: Bees, Flower, Fruit, Nature, Opuntia, Photo Challenge, Photography, Poetry, Pollinate, Prickly Pear, Sabres, World's future 6 Comments

Opuntia Flower (Photo: Amitai Asif)

In the prickliest places

Where the sun blazes hot

And the rain rarely stops

Lays a possible promise

For nectar

And hope.

For Cee’s Flower of the Day Challenge

Pink Elephant

September 29, 2018Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Funnies, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Photography, Reflections, Writing Tags: children, Elephant in the living room, InThePink, Metaphor, Muse, New York City, Odd, Photo Challenge, Photography, Silly, Writing prompt 5 Comments

Photo: Na’ama Yehuda

There’s a very pink

Elephant on the sidewalk

With nail polish

Half done.

Children stare

Babies point

But many others walk on.

As in many a living room

Where elephants silently stand,

Perhaps New York City adults

Aren’t easily stunned.

For Square in September

Horse Spirit

September 29, 2018September 29, 2018Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: Archeology, art, Flash Fiction, History, Micro-fiction, Paleolithic, Portugal, Short Story, What Pegman Saw, Writing, Writing prompt 27 Comments

Photo: Palaeolithic art at Foz Côa’s Archaeological Park, Portugal

“Why do you hit the rock with sharpened stones?”

Golin quaked under The Elder’s frown. It was forbidden to harm The Rocks That Shelter. The big stones protected them from biting teeth and snarling maws. They stopped the wind. They held back scorching sun. They reflected heat from fires.

And let flames paint shadows, Golin thought.

“He will drive away Horse Spirit and we will starve,” Morsen scowled predictably.

“Let him answer,” The Elder said.

Morsen seethed. The old man always favored Golin.

“The Rocks That Shelter do not anger when the fire lives in them,” Golin pointed at the dancing reflection on the wall.

“He makes no sense,” Morsen pouted. A few others nodded but The Elder’s stony gaze did not leave Golin’s face.

“They draw the fire near,” Golin stressed. Couldn’t they see? “Perhaps The Rocks That Shelter will welcome Horse Spirit and call it here.”

For What Pegman Saw: Douro, Portugal

Pink Perch

September 28, 2018Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Meditations, Muse and Flow, Photography, Reflections, Writing Tags: Breathe, Briefly, Butterfly, flowers, InThePink, Nature, Photo Challenge, Photography, Poetry, Sanctuary, Take a moment 5 Comments

Photo: Adi Rozen-Zvi

A pink perch

For the flutter

A brief pause

On the fly

For the moment

That lapses

As a breath

Passes by.

For Square in September

The Service

September 28, 2018September 28, 2018Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: 100WordChallenge, Eulogy, Family, Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Loss, Memorial service, Micro-fiction, Short Story, Speaking up, Truth, Writing prompt 42 Comments

All was set for the service.

Programs lounged on chairs in the next room. The adequately melancholy music played. Discrete tissue boxes rested at either end of the first row.

She waited as heels clicked on marble and black fabrics swished and the somber faces of acquaintances, rearranged for the occasion, nodded at her. She endured the hugs and shoulder pats and too-long handshakes. She breathed through the words.

The room quieted.

She rose and stared at the ornate urn on the dais before turning to face the living.

“You should know,” she began, “that Dad was not a good man.

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers