Fall Festive

November 11, 2020Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: 100WordChallenge, Climate Change, Family, Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Global Warming, Making do, Micro-fiction, Relationships 43 Comments

It was barely fully fall but the weather seemed intent on ensuring none of them would be able to ignore the coming winter. Morning frost. Freezing rain. Evening flurries. Weekend snow.

“So much for global warming,” Moise moaned.

“It’s Climate Change, Pops,” Ben interjected. “It makes mayhem to let us know how much we’d messed things up.”

“Whatever it does,” the older man waved at the window, “it is not as it should be.”

“Perhaps,” Bernice entered with arms full of pine bows, lights, and tinsel, “but we can still make it as festive as we want in the interim.”

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

Whistling Into Wind

November 9, 2020November 9, 2020Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Quotes, Reflections, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: Childhood Adversity, Coming to terms, dVerse, Flash Fiction, Memory, Micro-fiction, Moving on, Prosery, Quote, Revisiting, Untold Stories 19 Comments

(Photo: Janko Ferlič on Unsplash)

She had vowed to not come back. Ever. Not to live. For sure not that.

It did not mean she would not try to visit. Or to glimpse. To set out in a morning’s determination only to curl around via rambling roads and pause at every bridge and barn until it got too late to see a thing or she lost nerve and drove home steeped in a tired mix of relief and disappointment.

“I’ll come with you,” Elmira finally said. She placed a warm hand on the base of Anastasia’s neck, hoping to soften the tension it held whenever memories threatened flood.

Anastasia shook her head. “There is nothing behind the wall except a space where the wind whistles.”

“And yet,” Elmira kneaded gently, “the Orphanage’s whistles still tell stories. Perhaps the likes of which your soul insists ought to be heard.”

Prosery prompt: “there is nothing behind the wall except a space where the wind whistles” from “Drawings By Children” by Lisel Mueller

For the dVerse prosery challenge

What She Left

November 7, 2020November 7, 2020Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Memoriam, Muse and Flow, Poetry, Reflections, Writing Tags: Bequeath, Creative writing, Everything's relative, Legacy, Life Lessons, memories, Micro-fiction, Poetry, possessions, Values, Weekend Writing Prompt 30 Comments

(Photo: Sergiu Vălenaș on Unsplash)

There was not much there for her to

Bequeath:

A bit of lore.

A song no one had sung

Before.

Handwritten maps of forest paths

That others were likely yet to

Find.

A man’s sweater someone must have left

Behind.

Assorted photos of odd things,

Like stumps of trees

And rocks

And feathers that her favorite cat would

Bring.

There was not much for her to

Bequeath.

But what she had,

All could concede,

She loved and therefore

Was itself

A gift

Of life well-lived.

For Sammi‘s Weekend Writing Prompt: Bequeath in 85 words

The Long Wait

November 5, 2020Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Funnies, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: CCC, Change, Flash Fiction, Leaving, Letting go, Micro-fiction, Photo prompt, Relationships, Stubborn, Waiting, Writing Challenge 12 Comments

Waiting CrispinaKemp

“You coming?” Betty scanned the space to make sure nothing was forgotten, slung her pack over her shoulder, and headed for the door.

“Nope.”

“Are you serious?!” she swung around to stare at Ron.

“Yep.”

Her arms began to bend and she was just about to press her palms to her hips, when she exhaled, shook her head, and stuck her hands in her jacket pockets instead.

That’s what he wanted. Another argument. Another delay.

Not this time.

“Suit yourself,” she said.

His incredulous intake of breath was almost worth a glance. She resisted the urge.

“You’re a coward!” his words chased her in a continuation of the arguments they’d had. “I’m not a quitter. I’m gonna stay and see this slump through, and when you come crawling back, I will not let you in.”

She drove away.

The town had since dissolved but apparently Ron still waits.

Sort of.

For Crispina’s Crimson’s Creative Challenge

Better Happy Than Sad

November 4, 2020Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Current events, Funnies, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: 100WordChallenge, Choices, Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, friends, Jerusalem, Juice, Micro-fiction, Relationships, The Old City 45 Comments

“You think he’ll win?”

Shlomi shrugged. Elections or not, he was distracted by the scents wafting from the cart across the stone-paved alley. His wife would kill him if he drank any of the juices. Diabetes would kill him, too. So it was just a matter of whether it’ll happen on his terms.

Or not.

He sighed.

“Get that pomegranate juice,” Abdul urged. “You know no one makes it like my father does.”

Better die happy than sad.

“Abu Abdul,” Shlomi called across the narrow alley. “One pomegranate?”

“For sure, Habibi,” the old man grinned. “Want that fake-sugar in there?”

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

Simple Pleasures

November 2, 2020Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Meditations, Muse and Flow, Poetry, Reflections, Writing, Yummy Tags: Cherries, dVerse, happiness, Meditation, Poetry, Quadrille, Query, Simple pleasures, Sweetness, Warmth, Writing prompt 33 Comments

Photo: Smadar Epshtein

“What does happiness mean,” she asked,

Her eyes round with the query

Of the lost

Awaiting to be

Found.

“It is the sun warming your skin,” he said,

His own eyes taking on the mist.

“And the unexpected sweetness

Of cherries on your

Tongue.”

For the dVerse quadrille challenge: Happiness

His Insatiable Need

October 31, 2020Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Current events, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Poetry, Reflections, Trauma and Development, Writing Tags: Authoritarianism, Creative writing, Cult, Current events, Drama, Hystrionics, Poetry, Politics, Reality check, Truth, Weekend Writing Prompt 24 Comments

Dictator-

He is known for his insatiable

Need

For drama.

Histrionics

Are his drug.

He requires frequent dosing

Of idolizing

Chants by crowds.

He does not believe in

Science

Or in reason

Or in truth,

Which to him detract from

The ardent fervor

He craves as complete

Fealty

Proof.

For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Histrionics in 48 words

Aftermath

October 29, 2020Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Writing Tags: Acceptance, Assessing, CCC, Coming to terms, Flash Fiction, Loss, Micro-fiction, Mother Nature, New Beginnings, Photo Fiction, Storm 14 Comments

bricks CrispinaKemp

“This is all that’s left.”

Marshall nodded and surveyed the area, hands clasped behind his back in a show of control that did not quite hide his devastation.

Danielle caught Sandy’s eye and the latter blinked acknowledgement. Marshall’s white-knuckled grip and the way he rocked ever so slightly on the balls of his feet communicated volumes. Danielle didn’t think he trusted his voice.

The moment stretched.

“We did find some items scattered farther on,” Danielle pressed, distressed by his unnamed grief.

“Mostly parts of items,” Sandy clarified. Won’t do to raise hopes when they already knew nothing was salvageable.

Marshall lifted his head and gazed at the path of destruction the freak storm had left on the barrier island. A quietude spread inside him. An ebb and flow of sorrow and release.

“Thank you ladies,” he told the county’s disaster inspectors. “Mother Nature had spoken. I will not rebuild.”

For Crispina’s Crimson’s Creative Challenge

Not Invisible

October 28, 2020October 28, 2020Na'ama Yehuda Anecdotes of Life, Life and love, Muse and Flow, Reflections, Things Kids Say, Writing Tags: 100WordChallenge, City life, Flash Fiction, Friday Fictioneers, Invisible, Making friends, Micro-fiction, New Beginnings, New life, school 44 Comments

He crouched by the lockers.

Feet swarmed by. Sneakers, sandals, loafers, tennis-shoes. The hallways rang with voices and a smell wafted from the floor. A mix of sweat, old puke, and industrial cleaner. The smell of school.

It was odd. To be invisible.

Not literally, but still. A new kid in a city with more kids in this one building than in the whole town he’d come from.

“Hey, you,” a foot in a shiny Mary Jane nudged the edge of his bag.

He looked up.

“You Mark?”

He nodded.

“Cool. Come with. I’m Clara. Welcoming committee. Show you around.”

For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers

(Photo credit: J Hardy Carroll)