(Photo: Amitai Asif)
She didn’t know that where they lived was sacred. She thought all places of sleep were.
“When the body rests, the soul may travel,” her grandfather taught. “The dark makes space for dreams to manifest.”
She never doubted this referred to sleep of various lengths.
Hers, which ended when she woke. Others’, who slept on.
The catacombs were home.
To her.
To them.
One day her grandfather did not wake.
His voice now traveled in her dreams.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: catacomb in 77 words
Na'ama Yehuda 
Beautiful.
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Thank you! 🙂
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You handled that in such a comforting way. Nicely told, Na’ama.
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Thanks, Bill! 🙂
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🙂
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Yes, my friend. This was beautifully done.
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Thank you, Dale! XOXO I thought you’d understand!
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Of course! xoxo
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muah!
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Seeped in soothing wisdom, such a bond between narrator and grandfather. Very nice.
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Thank you! I am so glad this got communicated!
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Hauntingly beautiful, Na’ama.
-David
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Thank you, David! I am glad this spoke to you!
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