Little Brother

October 9, 2021October 9, 2021Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Funnies, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Uncategorized, Writing Tags: Allegory, Chores, Flash Fiction, Growing up, Hard work, Just for fun, Micro-fiction, Personification, Siblings, training, Weekend Writing Prompt 34 Comments

(Photo: Jan Kopřiva on Unsplash)

When he grew up, he was going to be like his big brother.

Tall. Proud. Sturdy. Up to the task.

For now, he had to comfort himself with the benefits of smaller stature.

Getting into nooks and crannies, fitting where his brother could not bend or fold to reach.

When he grew up, he was going to be like his brother.

Heavily bristled. Proudly mustached.

Meanwhile, Brush put his still-short-bristles to good use through many chores.

This way, once grown, he could graduate to being a Broom.

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Brush in 87 words

A Heart of Stone

October 8, 2021October 8, 2021Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: Adversity, CCC, Determination, Flash Fiction, Grief, Hard work, heart, Micro-fiction, Photo prompt, Siblings, Tenacity 12 Comments

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“All you have is this little wheelbarrow?”

Marsha nodded.

Shelly shook his head.

“I don’t mind how long it takes,” the despair in Martha’s voice was overshadowed by determination. “And anyway, this won’t be too heavy.”

Shelly shrugged. “You’d change your mind after you make a few trips pushing this rusty thing uphill against the wind.”

In the weeks that followed Marsha wondered more than once if her brother had conjured the wind just to spite her. Dust and grit found purchase in her eyes and throat. Her palms grew red, then raw, then rough.

And still, she pushed the loaded wheelbarrow through gravel and scrub brush and small canyons of cracked earth that manifested overnight upon the path she forged across the steppe.

Slowly the grave-marker took shape.

“I’ve brought the stones from our creek, Mama,” she whispered as she placed each carefully. “Your heart will never again thirst.”

For Crispina‘s Crimson’s Creative Challenge

The Better To See You

October 6, 2021Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Uncategorized, Writing Tags: 100WordChallenge, Ancient, Antiques, Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Micro-fiction, Mystery, Premonitions, Spirits, Spooky, Visitors 56 Comments

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They were almost at their hotel when they decided to explore one more alley. The afternoon light painted shadows on cracked asphalt and colored the buildings sepia-toned.

How apt, Barbara thought, for an antique shop.

Phrenology skulls stared blankly through incongruous shades. Ancient radios stood amidst forgotten family photographs.

“Shall we check it out?”

Avigdor shuddered. “I feel watched.”

Barbara’s arm hairs raised at the thought. Or was it more? She giggled, a bit too loudly. They wouldn’t, would they? Not all the way here?

Avigdor turned to leave. The neon glasses blinked.

“Won’t you come in?” a skull voiced.

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

Photo prompt: © Roger Bultot

By The Books

October 2, 2021Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Poetry, Reflections, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: books, Choices, cleaning up, Inheritance, Loss, Micro Fiction, New Beginnings, Poetry, Priorities, Taking Stock, Weekend Writing Prompt 24 Comments

Photo: MoneyforCoffee on Pixabay

Now that it was all hers, she wanted none of it.

She didn’t give an iota for questions or neighbors’ looks.

Out went the furniture. The clothing. The towels.

The reminders of swindlers and rooks.

She got rid of the bedding, the shelving,

The whole kit and caboodle in numerous crannies and nooks.

There was naught in the house for her

But memories of pain and emotional hooks.

She cleaned out the lot

And left only the books.

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Caboodle in 78 words

The Bet

September 29, 2021Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: 100WordChallenge, Family, Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, grandparents, Loss, Memoriam, Micro-fiction, Spin, Surprise, Weather vane 72 Comments

“Stop the car!”

Milly hit the breaks and hid her smile. They’d wondered how long it would take Pappy to notice what they’d done.

Only two days … Which meant she won the bet and Ben will be raking leaves all autumn.

When Pappy climbed back into the vehicle, there was wetness on his cheeks.

“Your doing?” he whispered.

“And Ben’s.”

It had taken considerable begging and a promise to maintain the church’s lawn, for the pastor to agree to put Granny’s beloved weather vane atop the bell tower.

Pappy chuckled. “She always put on a good spin, didn’t she?”

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

Photo by: Dale Rogerson

The Marshal

August 28, 2021Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Poetry, Reflections, Writing Tags: contrast, Making the most of it, Marshal, Micro-fiction, Parade, Poetry, rain, Silver Lining, Weekend Writing Prompt 31 Comments

(Photo: Lily on Unsplash)

The day rose bright but she knew better than to trust

Cornflower

Skies.

It will turn wet,

She knew,

As soon as her boots

Hit the ground.

The gift of rain

On golden epaulets

Glittering through muddy parade

Grounds.

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Marshal in 39 words

Unsuitable For Your Kind

August 21, 2021Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Professional Development, Reflections, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: adoption, Childhood Adversity, empathy, Flash Fiction, Micro-fiction, New Beginnings, orphanage, Trauma and Development, Weekend Writing Prompt 27 Comments

(Photo: Kristian Strand on Unsplash)

“The best,” the man swept a heavy arm across the offerings.

“And there?” the woman gestured at the shadows.

“Nothing worth your time, Madam.” He looked pointedly at her tailored attire, “Unsuitable for your kind.”

“Nonsense,” she ordered.

He frowned but snapped his fingers. “Silvia!”

The child looked underfed even in comparison to the other orphans.

“Trouble,” he warned. “Used up her chances twice.”

“Or,” the woman smiled, “very insufficiently pre-loved.”

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Pre-loved in 71 words

Self Employed

August 20, 2021August 20, 2021Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: CCC, Childhood trauma, Choices, Coming of age, Courage, Flash Fiction, Micro-fiction, New Beginnings, Overcoming, Photo prompt, Self sufficiency 8 Comments

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“This is not what we invested all that tuition money for, Robert.”

His mother’s voice remained soft, even pleasant. One may think she was but mildly annoyed.

Rob knew better.

It was the same voice that had sent his boyhood self to the attic without dinner for the slightest infraction. That left a small child to shiver there through endless winter nights. That told his father to retrieve the paddle and “do what needed to be done to make a man of an ungrateful son.”

“I am sorry, Mother,” Rob bowed politely in her direction. Bowed just enough to let her know that he no longer cared nor feared her. “I had made it clear that your plans did not fit mine.”

“Your father expects a partner,” she stated. Ordered.

“That ship had sailed, Mother,” he replied. “I bought the farm. I’ll be my own man. Chart my own course.”

For Crispina’s Crimson’s Creative Challenge

On The Road Again

August 19, 2021Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: 100WordChallenge, Aging, Determination, Elderly, End of life, Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Micro-fiction, Motorcycle, Veterans 39 Comments

All those of little faith who did not think he’d go for it!

They must be turning in their graves or keening over walkers. Also the doctors who shook heads at him. The nurses who fussed with his linens as if treating him as an invalid would have him forget that he’s a grown man who had lifted others and carried them first across burning sands and later out of burning buildings.

He always knew that where the rubber meets the road is where he’d meet his maker.

He’d left the Rolex.

The aide can always get another motorcycle.

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers