The Truth

April 12, 2020Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Current events, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: Adversity, Creative writing, Flash Fiction, hope, Intuition, Micro-fiction, Moral compass, RDP, Secrets, Truth, Writing Challenge, Writing prompt 10 Comments

Photo: Randy Laybourne on Unsplash

There was something she didn’t share, but knew.

She held it, close, against her heart. A snuggle for her spirit. They could not take away what they did not realize she understood.

So she hid her comprehension. Her perceptions. Her realizations that what was presented as truth, was not.

Real Truth, that which resonated with her soul, was different. It sang.

She’d been quite young when she’d learned how to discern the babble from the song. It hadn’t been easy to maintain Truth, to blanket her face with masks of complacent adoration. Still she labored at it, keeping hope afloat.

For the RDP Sunday prompt: Truth

His Destiny

April 11, 2020April 11, 2020Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: being yourself, Creative writing, Destiny, Flash Fiction, Micro-fiction, Nomad, Outside the box, Roam, Self-acceptance, Weekend Writing Prompt, Writing Challenge 14 Comments

Photo: Adi Yusuf on Unsplash

“It is my destiny,” he insisted.

“It is laziness,” they countered.

He shrugged and hoisted his belongings.

They wrung their hands and shook their heads and offered dire endings. Yet there was little they could do, short of straitjacketing. And they’d been down that road with others years ago and found it sorely lacking.

Settling down suffocated him. He was Nomad born. He could heed only that calling.

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Nomad in 68 words

Toppers

April 10, 2020Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: Adversity, CCC, Finding a way, Flash Fiction, Inequality, Ingenuity, Making do, Micro-fiction, Photo prompt, Survival, Tenacity, Writing prompt 10 Comments

tall-frames CrispinaKemp

It wasn’t an easy thing for a Bottom-Feeder to achieve Topper status. Most born to the Lower Gradients remained in the dank shadows of the towers, foraging for what could be found.

But Bronson never took the easy route. Not in birth, where his footling position had almost killed his mama and had left him only one usable hand. Not in growing, when he was often the last to be fed and the first to be beaten. Not in young adulthood, when he decided that wit and perseverance would have to do what his physique could not.

He lurked. He flattered. He kept abreast of Toppers’ visits to the LG’s for the vices, and used his nonthreatening appearance to offer guidance, and sometimes, services.

When Lorena’s ankle broke on twisted pavement, he lent a shoulder, led her home, and stayed. Life was better at the Tops, even as a pet.

For Crispina’s Crimson’s Creative Challenge

Not Out Of Joint

April 10, 2020Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Current events, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Photography, Poetry, Reflections, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: Caring, compassion, Current events, Gratitude, humanity, Interconnectedness, Light it blue, New York City, Overcoming, Poetry, SoCS, Stream of Consciousness 13 Comments

LIght-it-Blue-NY-One-World-Trade-2-credit-One-World-Observatory-@OneWorldNYC

The farmer pruning rows of trees,

The seller in the market.

The hens that daily lay their eggs,

For tomorrow’s nest (or basket).

The driver navigating streets,

The postman carting packets.

The parent shepherding a child

In mask and zipped up jacket.

The nurses, doctors

Plumbers, pets,

Who have become our mascots.

The slower pace

The seeking gaze

In meetings held in tablet.

The smaller gifts

That bloom in hearts,

As parks in flowers blanket.

The ebb and flow of day to day

The births, the hope, the caskets.

The love that feeds

The good of deeds,

The evenings’ clapping racket.

For as so many things are stalled,

Kindness grows in ranking,

And we are really not at all

Out of joint in thanking.

For Linda Hill’s SoCS writing prompt: joint

In The Dell

April 9, 2020April 9, 2020Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: children, Fairies, Fantasy, Flash Fiction, Forest, imagination, Just for fun, Photo prompt, Trust, WritePhoto, Writing prompt 19 Comments

Photo: Sue Vincent

They built the cone carefully. Everyone knew things like that had to be just so.

“Will they come?” Nelly fretted, slim fingers worrying the edge of her tunic.

“Sure thing,” Dahlia’s nod was as resolute as her voice. “We did it exactly. And it is the right time.”

Nelly nibbled on a lip. Aunt Lorena’s mind wasn’t what it used to be. What if the elder’s confusion extended to passing on instructions?

“There,” Dahlia placed the last stick, straightened, and took a step back to admire their handiwork. She tucked a wild lock of dark hair behind an ear and chuckled. “Looks as if they’re putting their heads together.”

More like a bunch of kindling in a miniature teepee, Nelly thought. She shook doubt out of her head. “Do we wait here?” she scanned the expanse of bluebells that carpeted the ground amidst the trees.

Dahlia twisted her mouth, stuck a corner of that disobedient lock of hair into her mouth, and pondered. The small wood felt quiet. Almost as if the air itself was waiting. “I don’t think so,” she said finally. “We better give them space.”

Nelly wasn’t sure if she felt relieved or disappointed.

After a last scan of the area, the two girls walked away, stealing glances every few paces, lest they miss something when their backs were turned.

“I think that’s far enough,” Dahlia suggested when they’d gone about twenty yards. “We don’t want the fairies to think we left completely.” Or to miss them.

Nelly nodded silently.

An afternoon ray of sun wove through the branches to rest on her cousin’s narrow face, and Dahlia noted to herself how Nelly’s golden braid and cornflower eyes blended seamlessly into the magical scenery. Like a princess, she thought in satisfaction. Exactly what they needed.

For Sue Vincent’s WritePhoto

The Spectrum

April 8, 2020Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: 100WordChallenge, Complementary, Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Half-full, Micro-fiction, Optimism, Perspective, Pessimism, Rainbow, Relationships 54 Comments

Photo prompt: © Jeff Arnold

She always saw the half-full of the cup. He always saw the empty.

She saw the rain’s potential. The green to manifest. The flowers. He saw mud and wet and ruinous showers.

She saw the sun and warmth. He saw the cancer.

She pointed out the good. He, the plausible con-men in every alley.

She laughed. He frowned.

She hugged babies and puppies, while he kept both at warning distance.

“We’re like the rainbow,” she explained, when others wondered how she kept sane in the face of constant pessimism. “Our perspectives of mist and light blend a full spectrum’s beauty.”

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

Travel Home

April 7, 2020Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Current events, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Photography, Poetry, Reflections, Writing Tags: Airplane, Approach, Current events, fpj-photo-challenge, Home, Island, Memory, New York City, Photo Challenge, Photography, Poetry, travel 10 Comments

Photo: Na’ama Yehuda

Travel home

To where the shadow

Replicates

What your heart knows:

The lives

The parks

The bustling city

That seems so quiet

And yet flows,

Even when appearing

To hold its breath

In forced repose.

For the Tuesday Photo Challenge: Travel

Never Closed

April 6, 2020Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Current events, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Poetry, Reflections, Writing Tags: Adversity, Creative writing, dVerse, Inn, Making do, Old, Open Heart, Poetry, Quadrille, Shelter, Warmth, Welcome, Writing Challenge 22 Comments

Photo: Lynn Jordan on Unsplash

Shuttered windows did not

Matter,

For all who lacked knew that

The door remained unlatched

The rusty locks, unfastened,

To let the needy enter

And rest their weary heads

Within,

Their huddled warmth

Steadfast in lieu of

Hearth,

Never closed from

The ancient inn.

For the dVerse poetry quadrille challenge: close

For Keeps Sake

April 5, 2020April 5, 2020Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Current events, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Photography, Poetry, Reflections, Things Kids Say, Writing Tags: attention, big-sister, books, children, Family, Keepsake, listening, Memory, Poetry, Siblings, Story Time, Sweetness, Weekend Writing Prompt 15 Comments

Photo: Osnat Halperin-Barlev

Hold your toes

And attention

On the story she tells.

Lean in more

To inspect

Every image as well.

For no matter

The weather

Or the chatter

Outside,

There’s not much like

The keepsake

Of a big sister’s

Pride,

And the magic of

Words

In your sweet heart,

Amplified.

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Keepsake in 49 words

Tomorrow’s Orb

April 4, 2020April 4, 2020Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: Adversity, Bedtime story, Dystopia, Evening, Finding a way, Flash Fiction, hope, Keeping children safe, parenting, Photo prompt, Protection, WritePhoto 21 Comments

Photo: Sue Vincent

” … And that is when the sun became the liquid gold …” Marianna tucked the blanket tighter around the child and bent to kiss the flaxen head. The short soft hairs tickled her lips. She hadn’t yet gotten used to the severe buzz cut. She resisted touching her own head.

“…and in the morning?” the little one murmured, half-asleep.

“It will turn itself back into an orb and rise into the dawn …”

The almost translucent eyelids fluttered open once to rest on the flaming horizon, before closing, heavy, onto the small cheeks. The girl’s breathing deepened and slowed in time with the surf, arms secured around a well-loved doll.

Marianna stared at the reflection of molten lava on the water, listened to the murmured rush of the waves, rocked on her heels, and hugged herself.

At least the weather’s holding.

The child turned. An arm slipped out of the protection of the blanket and Marianna tucked the slim limb back under the covers, securing the doll where it could not be seen. It was a forbidden toy, yet Marianna could not bring herself to discard it. Not when so much had already been lost. She swallowed, and her hand rose of its own accord to feel the expanse of her head, the hair no longer there.

It was the least of it. Better they be seen as male, anyway.

The sun sank, gold, into the sea. She thought of the bedtime story and of the simple acceptance of young minds. Of the trust, the effervescent hope. Her own breath deepened as her daughter’s face at rest loosened a coil of tension in her chest into tendrils of comfort.

They’d made it this far. The beach was secluded. The trees and darkness offered their own respite. She, too, needed sleep.

May morning come, she thought. She lay her head on their pack of belongings and spooned the child against her heart. The last of the light licked the dampness from her cheek. May we safely see tomorrow’s orb rebirthed.

For Sue Vincent’s Write Photo prompt